"Have you ever been?" a woman asked. With auburn hair swept into a chignon and wearing a black gown that dipped down her back, she was the picture of elegance.
"No. But I'd love to go someday," the man next to her said, a smile in his voice. My body froze completely. I knew that voice. Would know it anywhere. Oh God. Shock hit me like a physical blow and I backed up several steps, bumping into someone behind me.
My pulse jumped crazily, and I tried to apologize to the man I'd bumped into, but no words came out. He gave me a strange look but then smiled politely, moving aside. I looked back to the couple still in front of me. My blood was buzzing in my veins, and I felt like I might throw up. This could not be happening. Life could not be this cruel. Oh yes, Lily, it can. Life is pissing itself right now at the opportunity to be this cruel. Life is rubbing its hands in excited glee at this very moment.
They were both still looking in the other direction. He was laughing now, saying something in her ear, his hand on the small of her back.
He . . . Ryan.
Oh no, no, no.
It was definitely him. I would know him anywhere by the way he held his shoulders, the tilt of his head, the deep golden hue of his hair, the cadence of his laughter. The woman he was with tipped her head back and laughed along with him. Then she turned, and taking his face in her hands, she kissed him. Oh God. He appeared briefly surprised but then he was kissing her back. They were kissing, and I was standing there behind them, shaking, a martini tipping out of my hand. I sucked in a breath, my knees almost buckling, reaching my arm out, placing my glass on a table to my right. Or maybe I'd missed completely. I had no idea. Static filled my head and bile rose in my throat. My guts churned painfully. Run, Lily. All you have to do is turn and run. Do it now. Only I couldn't. I was rooted to the spot, unable to move, watching them kiss, his eyes closed, the lips that had once moved over my skin so lovingly now locked with hers.
"Lily, darling. There you are," my grandmother sing-songed loudly, coming up behind me, breaking through the painful spell I was under and causing me to gasp out loud. As if in a dream—a nightmare—I watched Ryan's muscles tense, and the girl pulled away from him, looking at him quizzically. The look on his face must have given her pause because she tilted her head, her lips moving. She must be asking him what was wrong. His head turned toward me, and I tripped backward again. He was turning. Oh, God.
"Lily, what is the matter? You look positively pale, darling. I'm trying to introduce you to Mr. Bradley. He's the—"
"I have to . . . I can't . . ." I choked out breathlessly.
Where do you fly, Lily?
Away. I fly away.
His eyes were on me now, wide, unblinking.
Ryan, it was Ryan.
Just as I'd already known. His face, his beautiful face. He looked shocked, pale. The woman next to him was saying something. And oh, I couldn't do this. I was going to fall down. I was going to fly away. And suddenly in what seemed to be an instant, he was right in front of me.
"Lily," he choked, grabbing on to my bare upper arms. I squeaked. I couldn't make my mouth move. "Lily!" he almost shouted. He shook me and I let out another small squeak. My heart lodged in my throat. He was here, in front of me. With another woman. Oh God, why?
"What in the world?" someone demanded. "What are you doing? Miss Corsella, do you require assistance?" My eyes darted briefly to him and then back to Ryan. I could barely breathe let alone answer him.
"Let go of her," my grandmother said shrilly to Ryan, ignoring the man next to her.
Ryan turned to the man. "Do you see her?" he demanded. The man's face became a study in confusion.
"I beg your pardon? Do I see Lily? She's standing right in front of me. Are you all right, young man?" He turned to my grandmother. "Bianca?"
Ryan ignored the man and turned back to me. "Lily? How? How?" he asked, his voice cracking, panic in his tone. Or was it joy? Oh no, that was worse. That was far worse. Wasn't it? His eyes moved quickly down my body and then back up to my eyes in one quick blink of movement. "Jesus, Lily," he breathed. "Lily."
"I . . ." The single syllable died on my lips. I tried to pull away from him, but he latched on harder. Oh Ryan, Ryan, Ryan. And I wanted to scream, because mixed in with the shock and intense jealousy of seeing him with someone else, I felt joy of my own. A dazzling spear of elation that spiked straight through my heart. Ryan, my Ryan, my mind insisted.
Only he wasn't mine at all.
"No," he said, "no."
"Ryan, what's happening?" the woman he was with asked softly, standing just to his side and a step behind, looking around, probably embarrassed and confused. I only saw her in my peripheral vision, unable to take my eyes off Ryan. He ignored her, his eyes still trained on me as well.
"Let go of her," my grandmother repeated, more loudly. She didn't want to attract any more attention than we already had.