Page 57 of The Heart You Kept

You know what…. Fuck you too. How is this my fault?

I weave through the chairs as I make my way to the exit. Okay, so we kissed…. But he doesn’t know that…yet. Of course I am going to tell him…. I imagine having that conversation and how it will go.

Argh, I kissed him.

My god, this is the worst night of all time.

I’m a ho.

I make my way out of the ballroom, take my phone from my purse and hold it to my ear as I pretend to take a call as an excuse to leave the party. What I really want to do is get on a plane and get the hell out of here because damn it, in three hours flat my life just got stupidly complicated.

I walk out the front doors and find a chair in the garden and sit in the dark.

Echoes of the party inside float through the air.

Though the sound of my heart beating in my chest does nothing to comfort me; if anything it just reminds me that a cardiac arrest is near.

In through my nose and out through my mouth…. In through my nose and out through my mouth. I repeat the mantra to try and calm myself down. In through the nose and out through the mouth.

I cannot fight with Pascal tonight, who knows what I will say in the heat of the moment. I need to think this through, and tonight is not the night to tell him what happened in that library.

Especially now after the auction. Five hundred thousand euros….

Fuck.

“You okay, miss?” I hear a voice from behind.

I turn and see a doorman walking toward me. “Yes.” I stand. “Just getting some fresh air. I’m going back inside now.”

He gives me a kind smile and turns and walks back to the doors with me as a silent escort. I make my way back into the ballroom and as I walk toward my table I see an empty seat.

Where’s Pascal?

I look around and I lock eyes with Edward who is sitting at his table, he gives me the best come-fuck-me look of all time and I snap my eyes away.

Don’t even….

Your girlfriend is sitting right next to you, you know.

Ugh…why the hell is she so beautiful anyway? I take a seat at the table and pick up my glass of champagne and take another gulp. Yep…. This is turning into an outright disaster.

Where is Pascal?

I subtly look around, what if he knows what we did?

Eventually he appears through the crowd and he takes a seat beside me. “You okay?” I whisper.

He smiles and takes my hand in his. “Just at the bathroom.”

“Okay.” I squeeze his hand in mine and it’s familiar and safe and exactly what I need in my life. Just having him beside me is comforting, and no matter what happens….

I can’t ever forget that.

EDWARD

Glenfiddich Grand, has there ever been a better-tasting drop? Sitting in front of the open fire with my feet up on the ottoman, I sip it slowly and feel it all the way down. I type into Google:

Who is Alora Sorenson? Nice Antiques