I followed him to the small high-top where he set the hors d’oeuvres, and I did the same with our drinks.
“I realized I forgot to give you the other half of my fundraiser survival guide,” Adam said, tapping the flute. “While you don’t want the well to run dry, you also need to make sure to wrangle up some food during the cocktail portion. Once the presentations and speeches start, it’s a good hour-plus before they even serve the salad. And too much champagne on an empty stomach can lead to one of two things.”
“Oh yeah? What are those?” I asked, leaning in closer and slurping up an oyster.
“Either spending your whole evening praying to the porcelain god in some very posh hotel bathroom or spending all of your money at the event’s silent auction. Trust me, I know this from experience. Though this time, I have my eye on a bike tour through Provence for two,” he offered with a charming smile, a flash of one deep-set dimple catching my eye.
“Provence. Sounds nice. So are you like a professional fundraiser attendee or something? Or do you have an actual job you report to?” I asked playfully.
He chuckled and took a sip from his flute before responding. “It’s a bit complicated to explain, but to put it simply, I’m in market research.”
“That’s interesting.”
“Not really. What about you? What do you do?”
“I’m a struggling actress, and it just so happens I blew the biggest audition of my life today.” The horror of me swinging through the air like the pendulum of a great cow clock repeated over and over again in my brain, and I winced at the memory.
“I’m sorry to hear that. With a face like yours and such sparkling conversation, it seems a shame for you to have to struggle as an actress when there’s probably a million things that you could do and do well.”
My heart sank as I realized this stranger had been more consoling than my boyfriend of almost five years. “Thanks. That’s nice of you to say.”
Just then I heard my name called from over my shoulder. “Avery, there you are. I’ve been looking all over for you. I have a bunch of people I want you to meet,” Gabe said as he approached us at the table.
Upon seeing Adam, Gabe’s face broke into a wide smile and he extended his hand. “Adam, so glad you could make it. And thank you again for your generous, generous donation.”
“Gabriel, man, good to see you. Of course, it’s a great cause,” Adam replied.
“Avery, this is Adam Daulton. He’s one of our biggest donors.”
“I know. We met just a few minutes ago,” I said, looking down at the mess of small plates on our table between us and hoping Gabe wasn’t reading too much into our encounter. But, it seemed he was so focused on the event, he didn’t pay attention to anything aside from the fact I was schmoozing with a big-time donor.
Just as I was about to continue the conversation, we were swiftly interrupted by a large redheaded man with a clean-cut beard who was sporting a lanyard around his neck (in stark contrast to his pristine suit) with the words EVENT STAFF typed in bold font. “Hey, Gabe, the teleprompter’s acting up. Do you know where Simon’s at?”
“God forbid we don’t have a teleprompter and someone has to speak from the heart, right?” Gabe said with a huff. “Ave, can you do me a favor and tell Marcie over in the auxiliary she can open up the silent auction while I go and look for Simon? We may need to delay the speeches until I can get this thing up and running.” Gabe clapped Adam on the shoulder before hurrying to follow the tall redhead through the crowd.
At the mention of dinner being potentially pushed back even later, Adam eyed me, and then his plate, and ceremoniously popped a mini egg roll in his mouth.
I chuckled at the accuracy of his earlier observation and followed suit, and we chewed together in silence behind our knowing smirks.
I swallowed and said, “Looks like I need to report for duty.”
“So, are you like a volunteer with the organization? Orr . . .”
“Not quite. I’m Gabe’s girlfriend.”
“Oh, right. That whole exchange makes a lot more sense now.” He stood from his chair and placed his napkin on the table. “Well, Gabe’s a great guy.”
“Thanks. It was nice to meet you. Maybe our paths will cross again.”
“You never know.” He smiled.
I grabbed my clutch off the table and offered Adam one last smile before heading off to find Marcie in the auxiliary to give her Gabe’s message about kicking off the silent auction. Afterward, I made my way to our table, where I hoped Gabe would join me after he finished dealing with the teleprompter crisis. But, he never did. Two hours of speeches and three courses later, and I was still sitting there all alone.
A little after 1:00 a.m., my feet and feelings were aching to the core as I tallied up the numerous blows our relationship had taken over the past few months. There was his disregard for my audition today—really, all my auditions—his disregard for me sitting here alone now, just more examples in a series of many where Gabe was so consumed with his own passions, he didn’t give much thought to mine. Deep in my heart of hearts, I knew then and there that it was time to call it quits—the night and my relationship with Gabe.
The next morning, at my request, we met at our café. Gabe came breezing in, late of course, his cell phone glued to his ear.
“No problem, I can swing by the hotel later and pick up the rest of it.” He sat down at the table and raised his chin in my direction as a means of a midconversation hello. “Me too. Just incredible. I never thought we’d surpass our goal, and by so much. Really great job by you and the rest of the team. Yeah, yeah of course, I’ll be in later.” He held his finger up indicating he needed another minute or so to finish up his call.
Though I should have been used to it, in this moment, my patience and frustration grew even hotter than the steaming coffee I was cupping in my hand. There he was, as always, oblivious to the fact he was putting me on the back burner. It hadn’t just been yesterday after my audition, or last night as he ignored me all evening, or even this morning walking in here fifteen minutes late and on a call. But for a long time now.
He shifted in his chair, trying to maneuver himself out of his coat while still tethered like a lifeline to his phone. “Oh, really? The New York Times? I’ll take a look online, but if you have the actual paper, hold on to it, and we can frame the article for the office. Thanks, Susan, see you around three,” he said, finally hanging up.
He set his phone down on the table and immediately started to scroll for the New York Times article Susan mentioned.