We don’t dance the same way we did on New Year's Eve, but our bodies are just as close, his hands never leaving me. The celebrity DJ, who used to be on some trashy reality show, keeps screaming to do it for the deer and keeps trying to get more donations. I don’t know how much it would cost to relocate deer, but I imagine the over one million dollars raised just in tables is enough. A slow song starts and couples pull their significant other closer to sway with the music. Charlie dips his head so that he can get closer to me. I turn and press a kiss to his lips.
“I love you,” I say, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.
He spins me out on the floor before pulling me close to him. “I love you, too. There isn’t anything that will change that.”
I grin like a fool. The love between us is easy but it's the other voices around us that make it difficult. If his trust fund is as big as he likes to brag, maybe we should just move the kittens to Bora Bora and live the rest of our lives away from the detractors and naysayers.
We separate when I go to use the ladies room. I manage to get turned around, too tipsy and confused to know where in the museum I am. When I try to return, I wind up taking a wrong turn and catch sight of Charlie’s back. I pause, hoping he might be talking to Ainsley like I suggested. It’s wrong to eavesdrop, but I never claimed to be above it.
“I hope you’re happy now. The Seaborns are withdrawing their investment. The Japanese social media company deal tanked because you were too busy thinking with your prick. You’re missing meetings and you’re being sloppy. Ashley keeps trying to cover for you but I know you’re leaving work early to get soup dumplings or some other shit. If you want to keep your whore on hand, get her an apartment near the office so at least your time offline is reduced.”
I can’t see Charlie’s face as his father says this, but I can see the rise and fall of his shoulders as his father dresses him down, shoving a finger in his face.
“Another thing: if you’re incapable of actually doing your job, Brad emailed looking for an internship. Maybe I can have one son who isn’t a total fucking failure. I was apparently wrong about all the business acumen I thought you had. Your brother might be better suited for taking over the company. Fuck, even Jack is doing a better job than you. You’re an embarrassment to me and my company.”
I’m sure they can both hear my heart hammering in my chest as I step just out of sight when I hear footsteps.
“Either you ditch the girl or you can find a new job. You can say goodbye to the cushy corporate card and doorman building and all your other luxuries. I will blacklist you in this industry, boy.”
I watch as Charlie’s father storms past me, not even noticing where I’m pressed against the wall. A moment later, Charlie’s footfalls follow his father’s out of the hallway, hands buried deep in his pockets. He doesn’t notice me either.
I can’t imagine how Charlie feels if I need to take a steadying breath from that encounter. I knew things weren’t good, that being offered a payoff wasn’t good, but fuck. Fuck. I can’t think straight as I head back to the table. The light effervescent buzz I had going from dancing in Charlie’s arms and the glasses of champagne is gone.
When I get to the table, Charlie is seated, laughing at something Jack has said. Jack is alone, I’m unsure where Vivian is, and it just makes my stomach turn seeing him. I don’t want to face Jack, who will no doubt tell Charlie what a mistake staying with me would be. Who will reinforce that I’m the worst thing to happen to him, as if that wasn’t already echoing in my mind.
Maybe, because of how much I love Charlie, I need to let him go. I have blown up his life in so many ways, I can’t be the reason that he loses his job and his father. I can’t imagine that would ease things with Jack either. My mind keeps jumping to that old adage, if you love someone let them go.
I shake off these thoughts, these worries, as I approach the table. I’m hobbling, thanks to my poorly broken-in heels, and I try to focus on the physical pain rather than the emotional pain I’m inflicting on myself. When Jack sees me approach, he nudges Charlie, gesturing to me before rising to leave us alone at the table. Charlie smiles at me, rising to pull out my chair, but the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
A waiter drops off plates of various desserts. The petit fours are gorgeous, looking like tiny presents, and I can’t wait to dig in. I press my hand on top of Charlie’s, wanting to say something, suggest we leave. For all the glamor that the night has brought, I just want us to go home. It feels like every time we take a step forward, we’re shoved five steps back.
“Lia?”
I look up, recognizing a nickname that my parents used to call me. I take in the sight of the waiter, but I don’t recognize him. He clearly recognizes me. He has piercing blue eyes and is a few inches shorter than Charlie, but still towers over me. His hair is jet black, slicked for this job, but it’s trying to fight back; a few strands are pointing in the wrong directions.
“I’m sorry, have we met?” I ask, feeling Charlie’s hand on my hip lending me strength. I can feel him move closer to me, curious and cautious about this man.
“You don’t…” he hesitates, looking confused, “remember me?” he barely chokes out. The stranger’s eyes don’t move from me, not even to look at Charlie.
“I’m sorry, I had an accident a few months ago, and have some related memory problems.”
This crushes the man and he sits down in Vivian’s vacant seat. I glance at Charlie and we both remain standing.
“I wondered,” he sighs, looking at me. “You dyed your hair. But I would recognize you anywhere.”
“How do you know her?” Charlie asks as he subtly puffs out his chest. His hand has moved to my shoulder and he gives me a little squeeze.
“I am, or, I guess, was, her fiancé.” His words are a physical blow and I stumble back.
Charlie’s hands catch me, steadying me. I ease down into the chair, finding my knees weak. He sits beside me, his hand staying on me.
“Fiancé?” I choke. “Can you elaborate?” I try to remember his face, his lips, anything about him, but I find nothing, emptiness. My soul doesn't reach for his, trying to reconnect us; he’s as good as some random person on the street.
“What is there to elaborate on? We were engaged,” this man says simply. I wish he were wearing a name tag.
“And you haven't looked for her in the five months since the accident?” Charlie asks incredulously. There is a hint of fury in his words. “She didn’t have a ring on during the accident. Why is that? What was your name?” he demands.
“I’m sorry, but who are you? I’m Bryan. And no. She wouldn’t have been wearing a ring. Our relationship was above such materialistic displays of ownership. We had a huge fight and I thought you were done with me. I tried to call you, but I got a message that the number was disconnected. I went to your apartment but no one answered when I knocked. I thought this was your way of cutting me out.” He exhales sharply. “And now, to find out that you didn’t leave me. That you don’t even remember me. I should have been there.” Bryan slams his fists on the table, seemingly angry with himself.