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"We decided to give our partnership a shot, and it's been nothing short of amazing since then. Michael is my business partner, best friend, and brother." He adds, unable to conceal his admiration for him.
John rarely gets impressed by people, and his being fascinated by him only means that he is as good as John is painting him.
"Hmm." I hum absent-mindedly, twirling with my wine glass.
"Are you sure you are okay, Serena?" John's worry is evident in his voice.
I glance up at him, nodding my head.
"Yes, John. I am fine." I add to assure him.
His eyes linger on me momentarily, and my heart jumps.
"Why are you suddenly so curious about him, though? You’ve just met him." He asks, looking a bit confused.
I chuckle nervously. I drop my empty wine glass on the table and stand up.
"No reason, old man." I tease him, grinning, and he frowns at my word choice, causing me to chuckle.
"Is there anything wrong with wanting to know about your friends?" I respond with the question to avoid answering his question.
And he played right into it.
"What? No!" He counters me, chuckling. I rose, leaning over the table to kiss his cheek.
"Let me get back to the party," I tell him.
"All right, Pumpkin."
I huff and walk out of his study.
The moment I step out and shut the door, I slam my back against it, releasing a shuddering breath. I still can’t believe what’s just happened. I pinch myself to make sure this is not a dream.
So, the man I had a one-night stand with three years ago is my uncle's best friend and business partner.
Great, Serena. Just great.
"Girl, you are so screwed," I mumble to myself.
I move away from the door. My heels suddenly seem like the wrong choice of shoes because I feel like I am going to trip if I try to move any faster.
My mind is plagued with thoughts of Michael as I head down the stairs, and the more I try to shut them down, the harder it becomes.
I rush to descend the stairs, desperate to escape from the hallways that lead to John's study, where Michael’s presence lingers everywhere.
I ran into one of the waiters that had a tray filled with champagne flutes in his hand. I snatch one from the tray, chugging champagne down my throat, hoping it would erase his memories from my head, but it doesn't help.
I walk further into the living room, still bustling with the crowd. The bubbly atmosphere, in sync with the loud music blaring from the speakers, does nothing more than spike my irritation further.
My eyes survey the room in search of Cassie or anything that can serve as an escape from my thoughts that threaten to consume me.
We only had one night together. It should not have so much effect on me. Why am I so frazzled by this?
Is it because he suddenly shows up in my life again after all these years when I had moved past it? No, I don’t think I ever moved past it. A tiny voice echoed in my head, but I shut it out.
I take a moment to wrap my head around how my night would have been if he didn't show up. I would have enjoyed the party with my friends and family. They put such a massive effort into making this evening memorable for me.
But then, everything goes down the drain when he shows up. The only thing I can think of now is him. It’s a total disaster!
