Page 89 of Everything But Mine

Applause breaks out. But I’m left feeling I miscalculated. The echo of Simo’s words sits right there, in my ribs, my own body more attuned to Eric’s wounds than when the day started.

The open reception hums with that strange blend of relief and professional calculation—people shaking hands, air-kissing, eyeing name tags and affiliations to decide who to speak to next. I’m holding a flute of something sparkling and nonalcoholic when, again, Simo wraps his arm around my waist from behind.

“Bellissima,” Beautiful, he says, he tightens his fingers around the curve of my waist, too close to my belly.

As I turn to face him, his hand slides to the other side of my waist. “Simo⁠—”

He waves me off, pressing his hand into the small of my back so I move forward. “Let’s pay our respects so we can take that walk, yeah? Where’s Val? And the head of your department?”

I’m about to step away from him, already forming the words I should have spoken before, when my gaze lifts to the ballroom doors and catches on Eric.

He’s pressed his mouth into a thin line of tension that travels down his jaw until it ticks just once. His irises, usually a steady dark chocolate, falter with hurt there and gone in a blink, swallowed down by something darker.

And just looking at him, I can tell he has overthought everything about today. He looks professional but not overdone in a dark navy suit jacket and charcoal slacks. His brown hair falls in easy waves, just unruly enough to seem intentional. The knot of his tie sits slightly crooked. He clocks the way I shift to make Simo’s hand fall from me, then he holds my gaze, betraying there’s more he wants to say than he will as he walks toward me.

“Eric.” I take a step toward him.

“I’ll schmooze at yours if you schmooze at mine.” He studies Simo, registering his shape from head to toe and back up, then chuckles darkly. “I thought we had a deal. Maybe you don’t need me here at all.”

“I want you here, Eric. This⁠—”

But Simo cuts in. “Are you in the field?” he asks. “You missed Amanda’s moderation. It was excellent.” He turns back to me, hand on my elbow. “You did a fantastic job crafting questions to spotlight the differences in everyone’s topics. Sharp, fluid, so very you.”

“Thanks,” I say, distracted, eyes still locked on Eric, dissecting how his jaw juts out in tension.

“I thought you weren’t presenting?” he asks, irritation slipping into his tone.

“Yeah, I still didn’t,” I say unhelpfully. “I just had to step in and facilitate a roundtable. I didn’t share any research.”

Eric hums derisively.

Simo glances over at him again, extending his hand. “Hi, I’m Simone.”

Eric looks at the offered hand, then his eyes shift to me. With a visible exhale, he shakes it. “I’m Eric,” he says, and then adds, “Amanda’s partner.”

My eyes widen, and Eric’s intense stare catches my shock, making his gaze downward.

Simo raises a brow. “Partner?” He turns to me. “I thought you said you didn’t have a boyfriend.”

The comment drops on Eric like a bucket of ice water, squaring his shoulders while his amber eyes search my expression. When I don’t cut in to explain, he nods and shuts his eyes tightly. I hurt him.

“You’re right. Not the boyfriend,” Eric adds, licking his lips, then shoves his hands into his pockets. The outline of his fists tightens the fabric of his slacks. “Amanda, I’m glad you had a good conference. I’m going to go.”

“You just got here,” I say, desperate to stall him.

“And now I am leaving,” he says.

“Eric—”

He stops, turns slightly. His gaze on me feels devoid of emotion, and I can’t stand that this is how he’s looking at me now.

“What about the key?” I rush the words out before he leaves.

“What about it?”

“Eric, I—” The words are stuck in my throat, any action lodged in my muscles.

“Amanda,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Let yourself in. Text me. Or find somewhere else to sleep tonight. Your call.” He says it like he always does, like I get to choose, but this is different; he’s walking away. His back retreating in a sea of people who don’t matter.