Stephen flashes a rare smile. “So am I. The hardest part was not saying a damn word when you didn’t get the promotion. But I had bigger thingsplanned for you.” He clears his throat, his gaze drifting briefly around the room, like he’s scanning for something. “Ah. I need to chat with Paul for a few. Drew, if you need anything, Brooke is the legal liaison to the press department this season. She’s tasked with helping to make sure we present the best public face, and don’t break any rules. I’ll let you two get to know each other since I need to chat with a few folks.”
Then he spins on his heel and takes off.
I gulp. My buffer is gone. I am all alone with the man I desperately wanted to see again but who didn’t want to see me.
I take another drink of my water. And that was a rookie mistake. My skull turns to tundra. I fight off a wince. I will not let Drew see my face contort from the brain freeze. I ignore the ice headache as I say, “What a great event.”
What a bland comment.
But I can barely think. My forehead is still pulsing with a mind-numbing headache. I grit my teeth.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine,” I bite out, then I draw in air and smile wider. The pain starts to ebb.
“You sure?”
“Of course,” I say, “Congratulations on joining the team. Everyone is thrilled to have you.”
He smirks again. “You said that already.”
My face flushes. Great. Now he’s pointing out my mistakes. Real fun.
I can’t be around him right now. I need a moment to regroup. “Excuse me, Drew,” I say, and I jet off, leaving the ballroom and rushing to the ladies’ room, my brain freeze melting off along the way.
Once inside, I grab my phone and dial Rachel’s number. She owns a jewelry boutique on the main drag in Venice and the store probably just closed.
Thankfully, my friend answers right away, and I dive into my emergency. “He’s here, like I suspected he’d be, and I’m doing such a bang-up job at being a badass that I ran into the ladies’ room to hide.” I spin around, hunting for an escape hatch. “Can I just pull down the air vent like they do in the movies and crawl out?”
“That’s an option. Maybe not a wise one, but it’s one nonetheless.”
I gaze upward at the vent, doing some quick calculations. “It’s seven feet high. Maybe I can step on the sink and sort of swing my legs up.”
“Sure. That doesn’t sound likely to break your neck at all.”
I assess the distance. “I think I can make it.”
“Or just a wild idea. You could face him. And be merciless, like I said.”
Closing my eyes, I slump against the sink. “The worst part is he’s all…cheery.”
“Bastard,” she mutters. “That pisses me off.”Then she seems to brighten, or perhaps turn devilishly clever since she says, “Oh, wait. If he’s acting like he didn’t ditch you, you should do the same to him.”
I perk up. Lift my face. “I should?”
“Yes, pretend you never texted him. Act like you’re cool with everything. Don’t let on you were checking your phone like it was going to give birth.”
That’s genius, birthing analogy aside. “You’re brilliant and I love you,” I say, then hang up.
When I turn around, I take a deep breath, smooth my hands down my skirt, then leave, ready to resume normal human operations again.
But when I exit the restroom, I stifle a shriek.
The tall, broad, and too-handsome quarterback waits here in the hall, away from the event and the crowds. His hazel eyes brim with concern. “Hey,” he says gently. “Are you okay?”
Pretend, Brooke.
I lift my chin defiantly. My queen move. Then I smile for the camera. “I’m fabulous. Just had to powder my nose,” I say, waving my clutch toward the restroom.