Chapter Six
Four Months Earlier…
Parties were only good if I had a plan. So long as I had a fallback, I could get through them without finding myself sobbing in my car afterwards, without being flooded by the memories I worked so hard to deaden. I’d been working on an exit strategy for my office Christmas party for six weeks now. Six weeks of research, of prep, of forcing myself to sit through lunch with women who had never really liked me, and what had it gotten me?
Absolutely nothing.
The original plan had been to make an appearance at the beginning of the night. I was going to say hello to my boss, to the office manager, to Kim who always brings me a juice on Friday mornings. I was going to make myself memorable to the important people, but the rule was to never chat for more than five minutes. I had to becirculatingand then, if I was lucky, a commotion would happen at about two hours in and I could slip out the back door without so much as a batted eye. If it was a really important party, I disappeared out to my car for a few hours, read my book, and then reappeared for final goodbyes, but more often than not, I found myself driving home. It was a plan that would have worked tonight had Judy not retired three weeks ago.
Judy used to cover for me.
Judy used to fill me in on the gossip Monday morning.
Judy was my saviour and now that she was gone, all that was left was to grin and bear it. With her gone, it would be too easy for people to ask where I was, to consider going out to watch the freakshow sit in her car. No. I was alone now, and as I settled into my seat in the corner, I tried to make the best of a bad situation. The glass of wine I’d been nursing for the past two hours helped.
The party really wasn’t that bad. To save money, the office decided to host our annual get together on one of the top floors, and while that was normally a depressing idea, floor to ceiling decorations made the place shine. One of the girls in accounting, the one who refused to look at me when I entered a room, had taken pride in decorating the place all afternoon. A sparking tree lit up the center of the floor, desks had been pushed back to open up the room, and there was enough sparkle to guarantee that the cleaning staff would spend the next six weeks cursing her name. The drinks were free, the food was good, and the music was a good mix of classics and modern jams. If I just hunkered down in my spot, I could almost find a way to enjoy it— until I was reminded of the one thing the party didn’t have. Namely? A trap door that could swallow me up.
A party is only as good as its best escape route, and the office had none.
Tristan’s bright blonde hair had a way of cutting through the crowd. Blue eyes scanned the room twice before finally noticing me curled up at a chair in the back, and once he locked onto me, there was no escape. I’d managed to tell him twice that I didn’t want to be his date to our office party, but as I watched his grin grow, I worried I’d made the whole thing up. Ihadshot him down, hadn’t I? Hedidsulk for two weeks, didn’t he?
“What’re you doing over here?”
I offered the boy the kindest smile I could muster. “Parties aren’t really my thing,” I explained. “Sometimes I just need a bit of a break alone before I get up and—”
The sound died before it ever reached his ear. Tristan took up the seat beside me, slid one of the drinks in his hand towards me, and then nestled back into his own chair. Six years ago, when Michael used to laugh at my excuses, it was almost nice. Now, an age-old fear prickled at the base of my neck.
“It’s supposed to be a party, ya know?” His grin had a way of glowing in the low light, and Tristan pushed another drink towards me. “Might as well celebrate the year in style.”
“I’m really not much of a drinker.”
When his smile faltered, my stomach knotted. Saying no to Tristan made me feel just as awful as saying no to the five-year-old who lived next door— a comparison I was sure Tristan would have snapped at.
“I was actually thinking of just heading—”
“One drink,” he countered, pushing the plastic cup towards me again. “One drink with me. Just to celebrate the close of the Emmans case.”
I wouldn’t let my disappointment dim my smile. He wasn’t wrong. The firm had just won a massive case, one that had already managed to bring in a few big fish. The project that we’d spent all year working together on had finally wrapped up and that was reason to celebrate, right?
One more drink and then you can leave.
“Fine,” I agreed, finishing off the last few mouthfuls of my wine.
Tristan clapped in excitement as he watched me put the drink down, but as he pushed the next into my hand, I couldn’t help the way my stomach churned. I was just doing it to appease him, wasn’t I? As Tristan threw his head back with another drink, my collapsing throat only let me swallow a single mouthful of the concoction he’d brought me. His encouragement, his disappointment, reminded me of the last man I bent for. When I tried to appease Josh, that was when everything started going downhill. Still, somehow, the mouthful was enough to relax him. Tristan’s shoulders drooped and the man turned his gaze across the office floor.
“Kim didn’t do half bad. Considering, I guess.” His face twisted into a grin that made my head hurt. Or was that just the music? Suddenly, things had gotten too loud. “I heard she got in shit with that labelling mix up, you know? James said in the lunchroom that she’d be flat out on her ass if it didn’t cost so much to—”
When the ache in my neck started, the drink was the first thing I put down. It also happened to be the thing Tristan couldn’t take his eyes off. As I rubbed at the back of my neck, the man pushed the cup back towards me.
“Oh, come on,” he chuckled. “You can’t be that much of a lightweight.”
“My head is killing me,” I murmured.
“Even more of a reason,” he hummed, another pathetic attempt to push the drink into my hand. “You’re probably just not used to it. You never come to these.”
“Maybe for a good reason,” I hummed in defeat. As I pushed myself upright, I tried to pretend the entire world didn’t spin with me and instead, offered Tristan the nicest smile I could. “I think I’m just going to head home.”
“Wait.” His choked protest fell quiet as my head began to buzz, but a few blinks brought me upright again. At least, it made me alert enough to recognize the man at my side. Tristan had shot up, a hand on my back as I tried to steady myself. “I can at least drive you home,” he offered. “You don’t look great.”