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However, dwelling in my feelings is not productive, and it’s something I try to avoid these days. I have things to do and spending time stuck in my emotions won’t get those things done.
“Okay,” I say to her, “I’m going to check on the volunteers and ensure they have everything they need. Can you go and see that the kitchen is running on time?”
Mom and I have spent over a year planning this charity ball that is on track to raise around ten million dollars. It’s the first time we’ve held the ball and the support for it has blown my mind.
I called in every person in my network, knocked on the door of fashion designers and celebrities asking them to get involved, and asked for a million favors from so many people to make it a success. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine it being the success it is. I’m not only proud of the work I’ve put into it, but I’m also proud of what we will be able to do with the money raised. When I think of the number of women we’ll be able to help, I tear up.
This is the work of my life.
“Yes,” Mom says, “And I’ll also make sure things are running smoothly outside.” She’s referring to the red carpet that celebrities are currently walking to enter the ball.
“Great,” I say, quickly moving onto my next thought, my next task, barely noticing Mom’s departure.
It turns out I love this work. It may be unpaid, and it may not give the kind of recognition a job would, but what I’m doing feels important. It also turns out that what I really love is being in charge of a project like I am this time. Usually, I’m part of a planning committee, but this ball was my idea, my baby, and I’m head of the committee. It’s fulfilling in a way I never imagined.
I make my way toward the volunteers. I’m stopped quite a few times by our team to answer questions and give directions, so it takes me longer than I prefer to reach my destination. I’m almost there when I hear a deep voice I would know anywhere. A voice that never fails to slow me down.
Bradford’s eyes meet mine when I turn to look at him. He’s talking with his best friend, and while he continues the conversation, he doesn’t remove his gaze from me. When Owen says something to him after eyeing me, he nods and walks my way.
I’m suddenly nervous in a way I haven’t been since the last time we spoke just over six months ago. That was a conversation I wished I wasn’t a part of because it involved his fiancée who was holding the floor with three other couples besides Johnathon and me. Carla has a way of holding everyone’s attention based solely on her intelligence that makes me wish I was as smart as her. I’d caught Bradford watching me during that conversation but I’d quickly glanced away. I couldn’t look at him while he had his arm around her the way he did.
I’ve made it a point to avoid him at every turn since then. I don’t need the reminder of what I can’t have.
“Hey,” he says when he reaches me.
God, this man knows how to wear a tux. I think about being the woman in his life who helps him with his bow tie. The woman who sits on the bathroom vanity talking to him while he shaves. The woman who slides her hands up over his pecs at the end of the night and shrugs that jacket off him.
I smile even though I don’t feel in a smiling mood. “Hey.”
Something flashes in his eyes. It’s the look he used to get when he was about to ask me what was wrong. Tonight, he doesn’t pursue that line of questioning. “I heard how much you’ve raised so far with the ball. You’ve done an incredible job, Kristen.”
My hands go to my stomach. They’re trying to get my butterflies under control. But just like every other time my hands try to settle the feelings that Bradford causes in me, they fail. There is never any settling to be had in his presence.
“Thank you.” His praise feels good. Genuine. This time, my smile is authentic.
He turns silent and in my desperation to fill the gaping space between us, I blurt, “Congratulations on the success of your new app.” Bradford launched another app a few months ago, a business management app that’s also gone to number one in its category.
“Thank you.”
God, we’re in a wasteland of stilted conversation with too many things left hanging between us. And since I’m a woman who doesn’t do well with awkwardness, I feel the need to fix this. Not that it can be fixed in the way I want, but at the least, I can make it so that when we run into each other we’re not stuck where we are right now.
I turn my smile up. “You and Carla must be excited. Not long now until the wedding. Where are you honeymooning?” I don’t actually want to know the answer to that question. I don’t even want to attend his wedding. Not because I don’t want to see him happy, but because I don’t think I can handle seeing him sayI doto another woman. But he invited me and I called upon deep reserves of strength and said yes.
I may not want to see Bradford with another woman, but I do want happiness for him.
“We’re not taking a honeymoon straight away. We’ve both got a lot going on at work at the moment.”
I’m secretly glad to know this fact. I instantly push that thought aside. I’m engaged to Johnathon, after all. I love Johnathon. I’m going to be Johnathon’s wife in eight months. Bradford is in my past and I need to let him go.
I look around the ballroom, trying to find someone,anyone, who needs me. When no one puts me out of my misery, I meet Bradford’s gaze again, smoothing my dress over my stomach while smiling brightly at him. “Well, I’m sure you two will find time soon.” I glance past him, at nothing in particular but trying desperately to make out that I’m looking at something in particular. “I better get back to work. There’s still so much to do.”
I try to step around him and almost succeed in my mission, but his fingers curve around my wrist and he stops me. “How are you, Kristen?”
Oh, God.
No.
I don’t want to do this with him tonight.
