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I push the thought away and look in his direction. He’s pacing and talking. And smiling that relaxed, genuine smile he wears so well.
I wouldn’t want him to know my ugly either, to be honest. How I have abandonment issues because of my older brother. Why I have a hard time loving myself. How I question myself.
Blamemyself.
Why I run from things.
He must sense my eyes on him because his gaze makes its way to me. I give him a small grin I’m not sure he can see. He winks and turns back around.
My stomach flutters.
Ugh.
If only he didn’t affect me in all the ways he does, this would be so much easier.
I then think of something I want to ask, but if I do, I’ll have to be careful with how I do it. After his comments in the bedroom and around his family, the things that made me wonder if he remembers our one-night stand after all, I’d like to prod him. But if he doesn’t remember, I also don’t want to reignite the memories. They’re still better left hidden.
As I debate how in the hell I’ll manage to pull that off, he turns and heads my way again. It sounds like they’re working out a time to talk more tomorrow. Eleven o’clock-ish, right in the middle of the benefit brunch. He ends the call and zeros in on me.
