“I’m not with the blonde.”
I rolled my eyes and took out my phone, holding up the pictures Chrissy had sent me. Surely he would understand how much it had hurt me to see these. “Your tongue down her throat tells a different story.”
“Jesus Christ, Nicole. It was a fucking picture. Pictures hold more lies than they do truths. You of all people should know that.”
“I can’t erase what I saw.”
He let out a laugh and muttered, “Tell me about it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I said, knowing he was thinking about the pictures of me and Gabe. “Those were taken before . . . before us!”
“And these were taken because of us,” he shouted, pointing toward the door.
I knew he was right, but it didn’t change anything. Unless it did.
“Will me not going to the premiere change anything? Between us?” I asked. He closed his eyes, and didn’t open them as he shook his head slowly. I closed mine as well, trying to rein in the pain. I didn’t do pain publicly. I swallowed and crushed it.
“Okay. I’ll see you around, Vic,” I whispered, walking out and heading to the bathroom. On my way there I let Brent know I was ready to go as soon as I got out. In there, I was hoping to calm myself, but then ran into Grace, who seemed startled to see me.
“I thought you’d left,” she said. “Did you see my dad out there by any chance?”
I frowned, trying to think about when I’d spoken to my uncle. I was pretty sure it was when I was having my first glass of champagne. I’d been pretty good about going around the room and talking to everybody, introducing them to Brent, but once Victor got there it all became a blur. He seemed to have that effect on me.
“I think he left.”
She sighed. “My boyfriend is picking me up here, but Dad hates him.”
“Oh. Okay,” I said, walking into a stall and closing it behind me.
“So, what do you think of Victor’s date?”
I blinked rapidly, trying to sober up quickly. “Nothing. What am I supposed to think?”
“Corinne hates her.”
I half-laughed, half-snorted as I flushed the toilet and fixed my little black dress. I looked at Grace in the mirror when I went to wash my hands.
“Corinne hates everybody that gets near Victor. I’m sure she hates me too.”
Grace smiled. “I don’t think anybody hates you.”
She was so young and innocent, probably thinking I was the nicest person ever. I dried my hands and looked at her one last time. “Have fun tonight.”
“Thanks. Are you leaving?”
“Yep. My time is up. I came, I saw, I stirred up shit.” I shrugged. “Now it’s time to go home.”
Grace laughed as I walked out of the bathroom. Brent was standing in the hall, waiting for me.
“Ready?” he asked, offering me his arm, which I tucked mine into. Instinctively, I looked for Victor. He was off to the side, talking to the blonde. I was so not waiting to talk to him in private.
“So ready. My feet are killing me.”
“I can carry you.”
I smiled, but didn’t say anything. Brent was hot. He had an incredible body, a great smile, a nice personality, but I was his height when in heels. Not that it meant he couldn’t carry me. I was sure he could. But I didn’t even want him to try. I sighed. I should probably just have sex with this guy and see if I stopped thinking about Victor. Unfortunately for me and my vagina, I was just not that kind of girl. Once I had my mind set on one guy, it was set on that guy until I was over him. Despite walking straight into Gabe’s arms all those years ago, I had to move forward. I wanted to be cherished, but I wasn’t that needy girl anymore. I didn’t need a man to sweep me off my feet. Maybe I should go back to just having a little fun.
Whether Victor was over me or not, I didn’t know. What I did know was that he wouldn’t act on whatever he felt. I could read him enough to know that his resolve was steady again. Maybe because he got his promotion. Maybe because I gave him what he wanted of me. It hurt to admit that to myself. It hurt because I gave him more than just a hookup. I gave him me, and he didn’t even know it. Or maybe he just didn’t care.
I looked over at Brent again, who was there and available and willing to try to make me forget things that could be hidden but not forgotten . . .