“I’d like to meet her. Let her come. It’s not a big deal. I’ll see you soon.”
•••
Knowing Damon as well as she did, tonight would be an elegant black-tie affair. Damon came from a very wealthy family, and they dressed up for every occasion. Isabel decided to wear the black dress.
She called the concierge, followed his instructions, and took the service elevator to the garage. The driver Regan had hired was waiting for her. There was another man in the car with him who rushed around to open the car door for her. He was around six feet and solid. She guessed his job was bodyguard.
“Who are you?” she bluntly asked.
“My name is Conrad,” the driver answered. “And with me is Jones. If you don’t mind, he’ll hang around with you at the party. He’ll stay outside the ballroom but keep an eye on you. When you’re ready to leave, he’ll walk you to the car.”
“I don’t think I need a bodyguard at the party.”
“Mrs. Regan Buchanan thought it was a good idea.”
“I appreciate her thoughtfulness, but I really don’t think I need you to escort me, Mr. Jones.”
“Just Jones,” he corrected. “Mrs. Buchanan thought it was a good idea, and we wouldn’t say no to her.”
Isabel gave in. They were following orders and weren’t going to budge. She wasn’t going to make their job more difficult.
“Thank you for your assistance, then,” she conceded.
Guests at the party were going to think that Jones was her date. He was young enough—early thirties, she thought—and nice-looking. Not that that mattered.
Not as handsome as Michael, of course. The second that thought popped into her head she got angry. She reminded herself that she wasn’t going to think about him tonight.
The Sienna Hotel was twenty minutes away from the Hamilton. The ballrooms were on the lower level, and Conrad pulled the car around to the lower entrance.
Isabel couldn’t wait to see her friends. The party started at eight, and Isabel, with Jones at her side, strode through the people milling around outside the ballroom. She didn’t think anyone noticed her until some young girls rushed over to her with notepads and pens and cell phones. They wanted photos and autographs. Four teenage girls multiplied to eight within a minute. Isabel tried to be gracious as she made her way to the doors.
Jones stayed outside the entrance. The party was in full swing when Isabel walked in. Lexi spotted her first and ran to her. Then Damon and Mia rushed over to hug her. Mia showed Isabel her beautiful engagement ring and demanded to know if Isabel would come to their wedding. Isabel promised she wouldn’t miss it.
With all the introductions to Damon’s and Mia’s family and friends, it took a good hour before she was finally able to relax and enjoy the party. Damon brought her a beer, and Lexi carried over two plates of hors d’oeuvres. The two of them sat at the table, but before Isabel could take a drink, she was pulled to the stage to sing a song for the guests. She didn’t want to sing, but she accommodated her friends and sang the song they had heard the last time they were together.
Wild cheering followed, and she was pressed to sing another song. Then she was done. For another hour Isabel was grabbed and pulled to pose for cell phone photos and answer question after question about Xavier. One brash young girl pushed her way to Isabel and asked if she was going to marry the love of her life. She held her cell phone up and was obviously recording. The girl had to be Brigit, Isabel thought. She was petite with freckles. Brigit resembled her sister but wore braces and, according to Mia, was going through an obnoxious stage.
“Hello, Brigit. No, I’m not going to marry the love of my life,” she said. “And I’m not going to marry Xavier. He’s just a friend.”
“Are you mad at me? Mia’s mad at me.”
Thus began a fifteen-minute discussion on being mad and not being mad. It was exhausting.
When Mia’s mother finally dragged Brigit away, Isabel asked a passing waiter for a sparkling water with lime. Then she walked to the back of the ballroom for a moment alone without people grabbing her. The band was playing a romantic ballad, and couples were swaying to the music. Damon was dancing with Mia. The way they looked into each other’s eyes was so loving. They were lucky they had found each other. Damon was loyal and steadfast. He would stay by Mia’s side in the good and the bad times. He wouldn’t go away for four weeks and six days without calling. In fact, he probably wouldn’t leave her at all.
Uh-oh, she knew where this was heading.
Standing there, drinking her sparkling water and feeling like a wallflower, Isabel made a decision. She would give him one more week to figure it out, and if she still hadn’t heard from him, she was going to hunt him down and explain it all to him. She would very calmly tell him that he loved her. She was pretty sure she was going to call him a bonehead, too. It couldn’t be helped.
The clock was ticking. Now that there was a deadline she felt better and was ready to get back to the party. She was here to celebrate Damon and Mia’s engagement, and she was going to do exactly that.
She went up on the stage, picked up the microphone, and belted out a rousing old rock-and-roll song that made everyone rush to the dance floor and let loose. Afterward, the band continued to play old songs everyone could dance to. Isabel joined the fun. She danced and laughed and talked to old friends and met new ones. She and Lexi even did an intervention. They took JoAnn into the ladies’ room and, as gently as possible, told her she had a problem. If she didn’t stop coloring her hair a different shade every week, using bleach to strip the old color each time, her hair was going to fall out. It was a brassy blond tonight with streaks of orange, which JoAnn confessed weren’t supposed to be there.
The party was still going strong after midnight, but Isabel was weary. She was standing in a room filled with happy people, and she was suddenly feeling alone again. Oh, how she missed Michael.
She heard a commotion, looked up, and there he was. She was so shocked she actually closed her eyes and opened them again just to make sure. He hadn’t disappeared. Michael Buchanan was standing just inside the door, talking to Damon.
Hands shaking, Isabel pulled her glasses out of her purse and put them on. Michael was still there.