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I throw back some whiskey before commenting, “No good deed goes unpunished.”
“It seems you still don’t know what some words mean. You need to add a dictionary to your wish list for Christmas. I highly recommend you look the wordgoodup. And while you’re there, take another look atviolent.”
“I’m good on that one. You taught me the meaning nine months ago.”
Jenna takes this moment to trudge into the conversation. Her expression tells me she’s concerned that Kristen and I will just keep going until we spill blood. “Kris, let’s get some air.”
Kristen’s eyes can’t be swayed from mine just as mine can’t be coaxed from hers. Not even as others join the conversation.
“I, for one, would like to get what I want more often,” Poppy says.
“I think you do just fine,” Adeline says.
“There could always be more sex,” Poppy says.
Kristen finally looks away and glances at Jenna as some of the group discuss getting more sex in their lives. Kristen says something to her sister before standing and leaving the table.
I watch her walk to the bathroom.
The look on her face as she got up to leave was pure anger, which confuses me. I’m the one who received that text from her nine months ago. Not the other way around. She acts like it was nothing. It wasn’t nothing to me. That was a conversation that should have been had in person. It surprised me that she didn’t show me the respect I thought I deserved by coming to me with it.
It fucking killed me that the woman I loved had it in her to do that to me. And then to see me three hours later at a gala with Phillip on her arm and ignore me the way she did. There’s no way I will ever forget her actions.
* * *
I stayout of Kristen’s way for the rest of the night. I play some Blackjack with the guys in between answering texts from Alan, my political consultant. We’ve been working together for six months and he’s competent as hell. The guy doesn’t sleep as far as I can tell. There’s nothing he can’t sell, including my marriage to Cecelia. He’s spent the six months with me working on selling that, and the pollsters have just come back with information that tells me he's been successful. Cecelia was always going to be a hard sell due to the fact she’s a successful lawyer with a highly public profile and has openly stated in the past that she wasn’t interested in dating men. Alan told me he could fix that and it seems he didn’t lie. We’ve still got work to do, but we’ve come a long way in a short time.
After all the couples head up to their rooms, I stay at the tables and play for longer. I leave about half an hour later after my winning streak disappears. I receive a text from Beckett on the way to the elevator.
Beckett: Bradford, this is Jenna. Are you in your room?
Me: I will be soon. Why?
Beckett: Can you please do me a favor and check on Kristen. She’s in the room next to yours, right?
Me: Yes. Is she okay?
Beckett: She doesn’t have her phone on her and she’s not answering the phone in her room. I’m sure she’s okay but I just want to make sure.
Me: I’ll check on her and let you know.
Beckett: Thank you!
The elevator arrives and I step inside, trying to deny the concern I’m feeling over Kristen. It doesn’t seem to matter how much I think I’ve moved on; I can’t help worrying about her.
She doesn’t answer my knock, and after spending a couple of minutes trying to gain her attention, I decide she isn’t in there and make my way back downstairs to look for her.
It takes me five minutes to locate her in one of the casino bars. She’s sitting on a stool, talking with the bartender. I slow my approach and watch her for a minute, taking in how animated she is, how expressive her face and hands are. Whatever they’re discussing is something she’s highly passionate about.
This is the Kristen I haven’t seen in years. Her energy reminds me of the night we met. The night she lit New York up for me.
She laughs, sweeping her long brown hair off her shoulder, revealing cleavage that the sexy, glittery gold dress she’s wearing does nothing to hide. The neckline is a deep V that slices almost all the way to her waist, and since the tiny dress is held up by two thin straps, there’s not a lot to it on the top half. Christ, there’s not a lot to the dress on the bottom half either. It’s designed to slay any man treated to it.
She catches sight of me and her sparkle dims. When I move next to her at the bar, she says, “For a man who doesn’t want to have a conversation with me, you’re failing epically this weekend.”
“Jenna asked me to check on you.”
She lifts her cocktail to her lips and takes a sip. As she places it back down, she says, “Consider me checked on. Your job here is done.”
