Against the white backdrop of the walls and the golden reflection from the chandeliers above, a vibrant flash of red movement toward the back of the room demands my attention. But then again I always notice women with red hair. I squint, trying to see past the shadows of the bright lights. Suddenly my world stops and I hope I don’t gasp out loud in the wake of all the air leaving my lungs. Is it really her?
My heart races and time stops as lust explodes within me. Red hair flows past her shoulders, and a tight green dress hugs her sexy body perfectly. I’d know her natural beauty anywhere—that knockout figure that is sexy as hell. No matter how hard I have tried, I could never seem to forget the way her body felt pressed up against mine.
I don’t even have to see those otherworldly emerald eyes to know it’s her, I can tell by the way she moves. She’s S’belle Wilde. We shared only one unbelievable night together, but it’s seared in my mind forever.
Wetting my lips, willing my heart to beat at a normal pace, I try to bring my thoughts back to why I’m here. But I’m having a hard time tearing my eyes from her—I’m drawn to her. I begrudgingly force my mouth to recite the rest of my speech. And even though the words that I’ve rehearsed flow out easily, I can’t focus on them at all. My thoughts are locked on her.
I remember the night we shared together so long ago and how she rocked my world. I remember how we reconnected this past summer and how I screwed everything up by acting inappropriately with our mutual client. I remember it all as it flashes through my mind—the good and the bad, the hot and the cold. And I remember how much I craved her then, and I can’t deny that I still do.
When I pause for a moment I’m momentarily distracted by the way she cocks her hip when she gives orders to the waitstaff. She marches to another table in those high heels, and my eyes sweep her body, from the curve of her hips, to the fullness of her breasts, to the pout of her mouth. With a pencil tucked behind her ear, she pauses, biting her lip as if assessing the position of everything on the table with a precision that is sexy as fuck. I suck in a breath and refocus on why I’m standing up here. “Sorry about that. I have to say I’m a little nervous. . . .”
I glance across the many faces in the audience as the words spill from my mouth and my gaze locks on hers. Her lips tip down into a frown when she notices my stare and she hastily averts her attention. Good. At least I can focus again. I continue, but I can’t stop constantly canvassing the space around me for her position. When I spot her directing those around her at the carving station, my pulse thunders at the sight. I shift my gaze to follow her and notice some of the women in the audience dabbing their eyes with napkins. I can only assume my heartfelt words have moved them. When I notice S’belle pick up one of the black linen pieces of cloth and do the same, it takes my breath away. Not only does she seem to be impacted by my presence, but fuck me if she isn’t wearing my watch, the one I left for her this summer after she told me hers had broken.
As I finish my speech, a strange feeling runs through me. I’m not sure if it’s finality, closure, hope, or a sense of new beginnings, but whatever it is—I’ll take it. It beats the despair and isolation that have kept me company for the past year. I raise the glass typewriter in the air. “I leave you all with these final thoughts. . . .”
My last words come out softer as the syllables catch in my throat. Applause reverberates through the grand ballroom and I close my eyes for a few moments, absorbing everything. When I open them a grin crosses my lips. But my smile isn’t for the strangers who surround me or even for my friends before me. It’s for the redheaded girl in the back of the room whose gaze keeps flickering over mine.