“Great to meet you, Guinevere,” Clinton offers with a smile.
“Likewise.” My gaze shifts from him to Julian. We haven’t finished our conversation about the unexpected fireworks display earlier. Maybe it’s for the best. Maybe it’s one of those things we shouldn’t discuss, that we should just forget happened. “You boys enjoy those cigars.”
Clinton tips his imaginary hat, then turns, leading Julian and Christopher away from the verandah.
When the men are out of sight, Sadie winks. “That never would have happened if you weren’t here.”
“What do you mean?”
“My uncle. He’s great, don’t get me wrong, but he’s from a different generation. He recognizes things aren’t how they once were, but he’s still from old money. He hasn’t fully embraced this new dynamic. It shouldn’t matter if Julian were a bit of a playboy. But it does to these people. They don’t want to be associated with someone like that. So seeing him with a woman…” She shrugs. “Some of them are coming around and accepting him as someone who will be around for the foreseeable future, someone they could benefit from doing business with. They’re starting to see what I see.”
“And what do you see?” I ask, although I’m unsure I want to know the answer.
“I see a man falling hard for a fun, down-to-earth woman.”
My face reddening, I avert my gaze, looking back out over the ocean. A breeze picks up and I pull Julian’s jacket tighter around my shoulders, basking in the warmth and earthy aroma from it.
“And I see a woman living the fairy tale we all secretly hope for. Enjoy it.”
I meet her eyes, smiling a small smile. “I am.”
We remain on the verandah for a little longer, making the rounds as Sadie introduces me to even more people. After a while, I politely excuse myself, wanting to take a moment to freshen up. I feel as if my earlier indiscretions with Julian are plastered on my face, in my eyes, on my complexion.
Once my makeup is refreshed and I ensure it doesn’t appear as if I’d just had one of the best orgasms of my life, I make my way out of the bathroom and back toward the ballroom. As I skirt past dancing couples, I spy the bar and decide to make a detour before rejoining Sadie.
Approaching the counter, I catch the bartender’s eyes and order a manhattan, draping Julian’s jacket along the surface of the bar. When he places the drink in front of me, I thank him, opening my clutch to leave a tip. All I have are a few hundreds that Julian left me this morning to use for gratuity at the spa. With a shrug, I place one down. The bartender doesn’t even flinch. I surmise he must get that a lot at these kinds of parties.
“You really love those things, don’t you?” a voice comments as I take my first sip. I look over the top of my glass to see Trevor standing before me.
“It’s a step up from the Boone’s Farm we drank freshman year.”
He laughs at the memory, a boyish glint in his eyes. It reminds me of the Trevor I first met all those years ago. The one who used to paint his face red for football games. Who used to drag me out to have snowball fights during the winter. Who stood on one of the tables in the dining hall and shouted to the world, or at least a small portion of the student body of the University of Nebraska, how much he loved me.
Then his expression hardens, leaving the man he’s turned into. A serious, workaholic who bears no resemblance to the Trevor I fell in love with. Does he feel the same when he looks at me? Is that why he ended things? Did we really commit the awful crime of being too blind to realize we’d fallen out of love with each other?
“You look good, G.”
“You clean up pretty nice yourself.” Spying a piece of lint on the lapel of his tuxedo jacket, I reach for it and brush it off, an old habit. Once, it felt normal to do something like this. Now it’s different. It’s not my job anymore. I don’t want it to be my job anymore.
I raise my glass to my lips, looking around the ballroom. A few weeks ago I would have done anything to have a chance to talk to Trevor like this. Now all I can think is that I hope Julian won’t be upset I’m speaking to him, as ridiculous as that sounds.
“I mean it. You look… Wow. I barely even recognize you.”
“I could say the same about you.”
He furrows his brow. “What do you mean? I wore suits nearly every day the past few years. But you… You seem like a completely different person than I remember.”
“That’s the problem then, isn’t it?” I place my drink on the bar, squaring my shoulders. “Because I’m the same exact girl I was when you broke up with me, Trevor. I haven’t changed much in the past twelve years. Sure, I may have a few more pounds and bigger breasts, but everything about me is the same. The way I sleep. The way I talk…” I trail off, my voice wavering, more out of frustration than heartache. Frustration I didn’t see the truth years ago. “The way I love. It just wasn’t enough for you.”
I’d kept my feelings locked up for years, even though I constantly advised my readers not to, that the hallmark of a solid relationship is being open and honest, that keeping your feelings hidden is simply a ticking time bomb. I did just that. I smiled and pretended to be someone I wasn’t so Trevor would love me. Nothing about our relationship was ever real. This thing I have with Julian is more real than the love I thought I shared with Trevor.
I lean toward him, my eyes fierce, the veins in my neck strained as I finally tell him exactly how I feel.
“At least now I’m with someone who thinks I am enough, who thinks I am serious enough to be with. He appreciates me, quirky sense of humor and all.” I grab Julian’s coat off the bar and turn from Trevor. I only make it a few steps before I stop, whirling around to face him once more.
“You know what? Maybe I have changed. Maybe I was tired of having to be someone I wasn’t just to make you happy. I’m done with that. Now is the time to make myself happy. And Julian makes me happier than you ever did.” My chest heaves as emotions overwhelm me. Then I lower my voice. “I’m just sorry it took me twelve years to realize this. Goodbye, Trevor.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Okay, tell me everything,” Chloe orders as she flies into my cubicle a little before five on Monday.
She plops onto the free chair, interrupting me from sorting through more of my scribblings about August Laurent. We exchanged several emails over the weekend, in which he revealed more information about his background. Now I’m trying to organize everything into an outline to make it easier to determine which direction to go with his story.
“Nice to see you, too,” I respond sarcastically. “Where have you been? And why are you just getting in when it’s practically time to leave?”
She smooths her hair behind her ear, avoiding my eyes, which is the Chloe tell that she’s purposefully being evasive. “This isn’t about me. This is about you. How did it go?”
I study her, unable to shake the feeling she’s keeping something from me, but I’ve been itching to see her since Julian dropped me off at her apartment yesterday afternoon. A nice surprise since I expected Reed to drive me again. When she wasn’t home, I had no option but to obsess over every little thing that happened, which resulted in the conclusion that Julian is obviously bipolar. Or, better yet, suffering from multiple personality disorder. What other explanation is there?
“Come on, Evie! Dish!”
“I don’t even know where to begin.” It’s true. It seems like a lifetime’s passed since I stepped into that chauffeured town car and was whisked off to the Hamptons for a weekend of excess and privilege.
“Start with what happened when you got there.”
I sit back in my chair as I stare into the distance, trying to collect my thoughts. “To be honest, I wasn’t sure what to expect, how Julian would act around me, considering this is just supposed to be a business relationship. But when I saw him and he saw me…” A blush builds on my cheeks as I recall the adoration in his eyes when they fell on me wearing that two-piece.