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When he leaves, I allow myself to finally relax. I want to sit here for a while and think about my future, but a cold draft has me going back inside the living room. The sight of happy couples and their children hits me with a terrible longing for a family of my own.
My thoughts move to Miles. I reach for my phone in my jacket pocket and see that he hasn’t replied to my ‘Happy Thanksgiving’ message. I guess he’s so busy with his family that he has forgotten about me.
I let out a heavy sigh. There’s no point building castles in the air. I have to face reality. The bitter truth is that he is unavailable for a committed long-term relationship. I must break things off with him and make space in my life for someone who will love me for all to see. All we have is good companionship and great sex. Our relationship . . . or whatever this is, doesn’t go past the bedroom.
Hell will freeze over before I allow myself to get dragged along like this for years. Although I enjoy fucking him, I deserve more. I thought being in his home was taking things to the next level, but it only made me realize that he isn’t over his late wife yet. He hasn’t changed a single thing in his house that she decorated and refused to talk about her, even though I created several openings. He’s still very much holding onto her. I don’t begrudge him that, but I can’t wait around for him to move on . . . if he ever does.
I’m better off single than with a man who might never get over the loss of his wife.
CHAPTER17
MILES
As I stroll into the Met a week later, I have only one mission in mind, and that’s seeing Giselle. It’s been too long since I saw her after dropping her off at her place and heading to my parents’.
The last message I received from her was wishing me a happy Thanksgiving. Wrapped up with meal preparations and chores, I didn’t reply right away. When I called later, she didn’t pick up and didn’t reply to my messages. Since then, she’s been silent. I wonder if she’s mad at me for not reaching out to her until much later. But I don’t think so. Giselle is too smart to be upset and sulking over an unanswered message. Something else is going on.
A smile crosses my lips when I survey the place and see the guests dressed in cocktail attire and staring at the Mayan art and sculptures. As expected, the star of the exhibit isThe Old Man of Copán. In the background, a band is playing and waiters are moving around serving drinks and finger foods.
I recognize several of the people here, board members, staff of the Met, and acquaintances, but my eyes trail the buzzing place for the red-haired beauty that has captured my heart. My face breaks into a smile when I see her talking to some patrons by the sculpture of the god, Itzamna.
As usual, she looks stunning in an elegant navy-blue silk dress with a V-neck and a small slit on the side that falls slightly below her knees, showing off her shapely legs. Her feet are encased in heels, which make her taller and even more captivating. Although I enjoy seeing her lovely hair bouncing on her shoulders and back, the French twist she’s wearing adds a sophisticated touch to her attire and accentuates her beautiful face.
Even though I see that she’s busy and enjoying her role as a hostess, I long to go and speak to her. It’s the wrong place and time to tell her how much she means to me, and yet, I must do it soon. But I have to respect that this is her workplace and she put this successful event together.
Still watching her, I reach for a glass of champagne from a passing server’s tray. Pride flows inside me as I observe her move from one group to another, talking and smiling with them. She once told me that she loved dressing up for events and socializing with people at the various occasions she coordinates. Knowing how sophisticated, stylish, and well-read she is, I can’t help noticing that she’s very comfortable interacting with the wealthy Met patrons. Unexpectedly, I envision her hosting my family and friends. She would be perfect.
I have to talk to her.
Slightly annoyed when I get waylaid by acquaintances and board members alike, I give up on the idea of speaking to Giselle for the time being. Perhaps after the event, we can go somewhere to talk.
By the time I disengage from the last couple who stopped me to compliment the successful exhibit, Giselle is nowhere to be found. I’m a little alarmed by her absence because guests are still arriving that will need her attention. I don’t think she has called it a night, though. She possibly went to the ladies’ room.
With my eyes still searching for her, I go over to the bar, where I meet a friend who I did business with a while back.
“Dave! It’s been a while.” I shake hands with him, smiling.
“It has, hasn’t it?” He sips from his brandy.
I order a martini and sit on the empty stool next to him. “What have you been up to? When did you get back from Germany?”
“A week ago. I meant to reach out, but I had a little family issue,” he says with a slight wince.
My brows shoot up. “I hope it wasn’t serious and you’ve handled it.”
He tilts his head to the side. “Let’s just say it’s partially resolved.”
I sip from my drink. “That serious, huh?”
He nods and sighs. “Tell me, Miles, how do you separate your affairs . . . er . . . relationships from your family? I mean from your daughter.”
A frown wrinkles my forehead. Dave is divorced. His three children live with him, while his ex-wife lives in London.
“What happened, Dave?”
“My girls discovered I have a girlfriend, and they made a huge fuss about it because they had the hope that Shirley and I would get back together.” He sighs heavily. “I know you haven’t had a girlfriend since your wife passed away, but surely you have casual flings, don’t you?” Then he eyes me with wonder. “How have you been able to manage?”
I can’t help grinning at his apparent stupefaction. “Because I made Ashlyn my entire world.”
