Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 103754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
I watch Gregory make his way through the crowd toward the hallway to check our coats, remaining where I am and smiling as if I belong here. I don’t. I get out of the flow of traffic and head to the back, though there are no real openings where I can wait without being in the way. “Sosie?” a woman calls my name, and I look around until I’m met with a smiling face.
My shoulders ease as I walk toward her. “Jerilyn, it’s so good to see you again.” We met a few months ago at a party the Lafoons hosted. She was the only one who seemed genuine. She reminds me a lot of Marcy.
She throws her arms around me like we’re old friends. “It’s so good to see you, too.” I find comfort in the stranger, something I don’t find much around other people currently in my life. “I thought about texting you to see if you wanted to grab coffee or a cocktail, but I didn’t know if you’d remember who I was.”
“Of course, I do. You made that night tolerable, the only bright spot from what I remember.”
She quirks her head, her high ponytail falling to one side. “Wasn’t that the party where the Lafoons announced they were expanding their overseas offices?”
To her, it’s a good thing to be close to their power. They used it for something beneficial for the company, so I understand her excitement.
For me, I just want out of their world, no matter the circumstance. “That was good news,” I say, needing to guard my true feelings, especially at his company party.
Her smile reappears as if she didn’t clock the negative blip in my reaction. “How are you so gorgeous? Gregory is a very lucky man.”
I’m the worst at taking compliments, but I kind of hope my looks are the least interesting thing about me. “I should hang around you more often,” I reply with a laugh. Swinging it back to her, I say, “Look at you. I love this dress. It was made for you.”
“Thank you.” She peers down at the dress, and her smile is more contagious than ever. I hate the jealousy that swarms under my skin. I used to be like that. Living life like there were endless possibilities. I’d love to know her secrets to finding this kind of happiness, but I have a feeling that not being threatened by her parents might be adding to her glow.
Gregory appears from the revelers with our drinks in hand. He hands me the martini glass, then says, “I’ll be right back. I need to make announcements.” He gives me another wink, which seems like overkill at this point. Is that a new habit he picked up from the office, or is the alcohol from dinner kicking in?
Jerilyn nudges me, whispering, “No offense, but I thought you two were just friends the first time I saw you together.” The “no offense” already raised my hackles, but maybe I’m not such a great actress after all. “Were you friends before you got together, or was it love at first sight?” The question lingers with the lilt at the end, begging me to confess to the truth that neither applies to him. But that’s not something I can do.
I should hate how often Keats comes to mind, but I always welcome the memories and the warmth that wraps around me like he once did. If love at first sight exists, that is what we were.
Despite how she makes me feel like a close confidant, she works for him, and I need to remember that. A thrill runs through her expression just before she adds, “I’m so happy for you. You make a beautiful couple.”
I’m starting to believe that’s all we are. Attractive. Everything seems to come back to that. There’s no mention of our chemistry. We look good together on paper and in real life. But that’s where it begins and ends for Gregory and me. “Thank—”
“Hello! Hello,” Gregory says with a microphone in his hands. “Thank you for coming tonight when you could be heavily drinking with your families instead.” That earns him a round of laughter from the drinking crowd.
A few glasses are raised in the air, and someone shouts, “Thanks for the drinks, boss.”
I keep wanting to brush Gregory with the same stroke as my father, but he’s not him. He never has been, so it’s not fair to hold him to that standard of evil. It hadn’t even occurred to me how he’ll react when he finds out I’ve left. His feelings were never a concern of mine. Should they have been? Did I lead him on in some way that he would think that I would fall in love with him?
When his eyes connect with mine, I smile and lift my glass enough for him to see the praise, but I’m conflicted. Sparing myself from further pain means inflicting it on him. Pain seems heavy-handed. Will he really be that heartbroken when I’m gone?