by R. C. Martin
When I get back home, I’m ecstatic to find that my dresses were delivered. I force myself to put some things away and take a shower before I even open the packages. Still wrapped in a towel, I lay them across the bed and then match each dress with a pair of stilettos and coordinating jewelry. I blow dry my hair and then one by one I put together each outfit. Two of the dresses don’t fit correctly, so I repackage them and try to decide between the remaining three. There’s a black one, a white one, and a blush one—all of which look fantastic.
Unable to pick on my own, I send a picture of each to my mother. She calls me less than fifteen minutes later instructing me to wear the white one. “It’s your last chance before Labor Day.”
“I knew you would know best.”
I decide to send back the black one but keep the blush, as it’s too pretty to return, and my mom and I talk on the phone while I give myself a mani/pedi. It’s good to catch up with her. It’s been a few weeks since either of us have had the time. I tell her about Roman and she tells me about a photoshoot she’s planning on doing in Australia. I’d be jealous and beg her to fly me out for a long weekend while she’s out there, if I wasn’t going to miss out on so much here.
The reality is, life is good and I don’t need Australia right now.
As soon as we hang up, I work on my hair and makeup. I pull my blonde mane to the side, twisting and pinning it into a loose chignon. I stick to light colors on my face, wanting to keep it classy. My dress has a sweetheart cut bodice and clings to my body until mid-thigh. It also has a white overlay of lace, which includes the sleeves that are cut just below my elbows. The lace goes all the way up to my neck, making the dress look fairly conservative, but it’s backless from just below my shoulder blades all the way down to the small of my back. After I adorn my ears with a set of pearls, I slide into my platform heels. They’re covered in light blue lace with a matching bow right above the toe.
I take one last look in the mirror before I go. I feel great and excited for tonight’s reveal. I’m relieved that the calm I grasped hold of this morning during yoga is still with me. I plan on holding onto it all night long.
The party starts at seven, but my team and I arrange to meet at a quarter ‘til. As soon as I walk into the lobby, I spot Brittany and Kim. I make my way toward them and Brittany greets me with a wolf whistle. I giggle and spin, showing off the complete ensemble.
“Damn, girl,” says Kim, wiggling her eyebrows at me. “You look sexy and elegant at the same time. That’s an awesome party trick. You’ll have to show me how to do that.”
“I’d be happy to. Pencil me in for a shopping date. Though, looks like you’ve got elegant down pat.”
“Miss Schwartz?” We all fall silent as Edda calls my name. She’s standing by the hostess station with her arms folded across her chest, looking like the powerhouse that I’ve always known her to be—only more intimidating than usual. “You’re needed this way. Come.”
I share a weary glance with the girls before I do as I’m told. All at once, the calm I promised to hold onto seems to vanish. When I’m in reaching distance, Edda gently takes my elbow and leads me into the room that I’ve come to know as intimately as my own home.
My heels announce me as I step cautiously across the newly laid cherrywood flooring. All the tables are set—complete with folded cloth napkins, silverware sets, and the correct stemware that arrived late yesterday afternoon. There are also candles in short, glass vases waiting to be lit. It will look devastatingly romantic with the rusted gold chandeliers that hang strategically around the room. The walls, painted a dusty rose in contrast to the cream upholstery on the furniture, brings just enough light into the space, as I originally imagined. And the floor to ceiling shelving unit behind the bar is lit up perfectly, showcasing an extensive liquor collection in a golden hue. Then, of course, there is my favorite part. The wall of art.
“I have to be honest with you, dear, I didn’t think you were ready for this,” she begins, interrupting my thoughts. I feel my face flush in embarrassment as I look at her. “Judah assured me he would keep a close eye on you and monitor your progress, but I never imagined you could handle a project of this caliber all on your own. Judah was stubborn and relentless. He saw something in you I didn’t. Plus, he always likes to push his pupils over the edge, just to see if they will fall. You, Logan…” She pauses and surveys the room. I hold my breath and pray that I won’t pass out as I wait for her to finish her thought. “You did not fall. I’m very proud of you and the work you’ve done here. I look forward to seeing how you continue to evolve.”
I free a sigh of relief and she chuckles at the sound. “Thank you, Edda. That means so much to me.“
“You have been working very hard. Tonight, I want you to just enjoy yourself.”
I nod with a smile and she squeezes my arm encouragingly before she leaves my side. My sense of calm returns, accompanied by my pride, and I wander about the room until I’m standing in front of my painting. The wall is covered in spectacular pieces, but the woman at the bar will always be special to me. It called to me the moment I laid eyes on it. As I stare at it now, I decide that she’s not waiting on her friends.
No, she’s waiting on her lover; someone to share her night with—a night full of beauty and accomplishment. A night just like this one. I am her and she is me.
“No tears. That’s good!” Brittany observes as she and Kim join me.
“I’m sure whatever Edda said deserves a toast,” says Miranda, who approaches on my other side. “We found a tray of champagne,” she adds with a grin, handing me a glass.
“Oh—let me!” Kim begs. We all lift our flutes and look to her to continue. “To a great night in a great room. Let’s drink lots, avoid the old geezers, and pray to God that there will be plenty of delicious eligible men who were invited to this shindig.”
“Cheers,” we all cry together.
“Just remember, no matter how much you drink, my delicious man is not eligible,” I tell them before taking a sip of the bubbly.
“Mm, mine too,” says Miranda.
“Where is Malcolm, by the way?”
“Parking the car. It’s a nightmare out there. I might be on my second by the time he gets in here,” she giggles before taking another drink. “Come on. Let’s go see if there are any hors d’oeuvres we can swipe.”
After Eddalyn’s compliments and my first glass of champagne, thoughtlessly consumed on an empty stomach, I forget all about Judah. It isn’t until after seven, when the room starts to fill with guests, that I realize I haven’t spoken to him yet. My guess is that he’s busy with the client, discussing business. Although, at this point, we’re currently surrounded by the client—the owners of the hotel and the board that represents The Archibald and other historic hotels that are associated with this one. Then, of course, there are probably contributors who helped back the financial investment of this renovation project—most of whom appear to be arriving with a date on their arms.
I look about the room, hoping to spot Judah. If I need to put in any business face time tonight, I’d rather get it over with before Roman arrives. I get a little distracted on my hunt, happy to see people simply enjoying the room. Then I spot him. He’s standing at the bar with a drink in one hand, his other hidden inside his pant’s pocket. He looks annoyingly polished and handsome and he’s staring right at me. He nods me over, his head moving ever so slightly, and I acquiesce to his silent request.
“You are breathtakingly stunning,” he says once I’ve closed the distance between us.
“Thank you.” I’ve built up a tolerance for him and his relentless flirting, but I don’t wish to be rude. He’s not wrong. I am stunning and I appreciate his noticing.
“What are you drinking?”
“Oh, um, champagne,” I answer, setting my empty glass on the bar.
“She’ll have another, please,” he instructs the bartender, who fills me up right away.
“Thank you,” I repeat
to Judah.
“Thanks is not necessary. It’s on the house, tonight.”
“No,” I reply, shaking my head to emphasize my point. “Not for the drink. Thank you for the opportunity of this project.” A smile graces my lips as I look around. I know that I’ll still be helping with the rest of the hotel, but tonight is sort of my goodbye. “Eddalyn told me that you pushed for me to get the chance. I wouldn’t have been able to do this without your help and your guidance. I learned so much and I don’t think I’ve thanked you properly. So—thank you.”
He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he just stares at me. I’m having a hard time deciding whether or not his thoughts are professional or inappropriate, and then he speaks. “You’re gifted. I knew it from the moment I laid eyes on you. A woman who puts herself together as well as you do is surely capable of tearing down a room until all that’s left is skin and bones, and then putting it back together better than it was before.
“You remind me of myself, which means you have bottomless potential. You own that, which I adore. You’re indecisive as hell, but in the end you always go with your gut. Your gut made this room worth more than every penny. It’s a space worthy of memories.
“It is I who should be thanking you. It’s not every day that I get to work with a mind as open and creative as yours. Don’t get me wrong, I work with extraordinary people. Aunt Eddalyn would have it no other way. You, however, are a gem. It has been my pleasure working with you.”
His words are not what I was expecting. I’m struck dumb as I stare up at him, his gorgeous gray eyes admiring my green ones. I had no idea he felt that way. Everything he just said was sweet and genuine and—
He reaches up to trace the backs of his fingers down my cheek. Without any further warning, he leans down to kiss me. My lips part as I gasp softly, unprepared for the fight against him and the temptation that he is at such a close proximity. When his mouth grazes mine, I close my lips around his—like a reflex. He must feel encouraged, because the next thing I know, his warm hand is placed firmly on my bare back.
For a second—just a second—I can’t think or breathe and I kiss him in return.
Then I think of Roman. As Judah kisses me, I think of Roman’s lips and Roman’s hands and Roman’s heart and I realize that I love him and the last thing in the world I want to do is kiss someone else!
I pull my face away from Judah and press a hand against his chest. Then it hits me—did he mean anything that he just said? Or was that a line?
Did I just fall for a line?
Shit. I need some air.
I set my champagne on the bar and hurry away from him.
Just as I begin to make my way out of the room, I see Roman. He’s staring right at me. The look on his face is one I’ve never seen before. I stare back at him until I can’t see, my eyes brimming with tears.
How did this happen? How did my night go to hell so fast?
Afraid that if I don’t make a break for it, I’ll start sobbing right in the middle of the room, I brush past him. I don’t stop until I’m outside. Looking left to right, I choose to go left, completely uncaring of where I end up.
I’ve never been inside The Archibald before. Logan showed me pictures of what it looked like before she got her hands on it, but this is my first time seeing it for myself. Knowing that she’ll ask me what I think the second I find her, I take a moment to look around the room as I’m directed into the hotel’s restaurant. People are starting to fill up the place, mingling and chatting as the waiters walk around with hors d’oeuvres and champagne. I’m temporarily distracted by the grandiose event itself before I let myself become absorbed in the details of the room.
It looks great, but I’m not surprised. I know how hard she’s been working over the past month; not to mention, I’ve seen the work she’s done in her own home.
Anxious to find the woman of the hour, I focus on the faces that surround me as I look for her. I spot her almost right away, her white dress a beacon that draws me to her. She looks irresistible.
Perhaps too irresistible.
She’s at the bar, talking to Judah. I start to make my way towards her, annoyed with their proximity in conjunction with that dress. I stop when I see him touch her cheek. She goes stock-still as he leans down to kiss her. The instant his mouth meets hers, my blood starts to boil. When he pulls her closer, pressing his hand against the exposed skin on her back, I clench my jaw in an attempt to hold onto even a sliver of control.
I’ve never felt this way before—so possessive and protective. I know Logan can fight her own battles, but I’m learning that she’s as delicate as she is fierce. Underneath her pretty face and her quick wit, she has a fragile heart. Judah is taking advantage of that. As I watch them, my anger replaces all rational thought.
She pushes away from him and sets down her drink before she starts heading my way. I watch as she spots me, stops, and stares. Her eyes fill with tears and I know I should say something—but I can’t. My thoughts are consumed with one focus, one impulsive desire, and I have no words for her. I hear her strained breath when she brushes past me, as if she’s fighting back a sob. My fury escalates.
I ball my hands into fists as I take long, fast strides across the room. Judah doesn’t flench as I approach. He’s taller than me, but the arrogant prick is far from intimidating. The adrenaline that courses through my veins fuels the punch that I smash against his jaw. He drops his drink and the glass shatters on the floor as he looks at me with a furious gaze.
“You’re a real jackass,” I bite. “She’s mine! If that wasn’t clear before, I sure as hell hope it is now.”
It isn’t until after I turn away from him that I realize I’ve caused a scene.
Oh, how my mother would cringe.
As I head for the exit, my hand begins to throb, but I ignore it. I need to find Logan. Outside, the night is mild and calm, the opposite of how I feel. My heart sinks when I look to my left and then to my right with no sight of her.
“She went that way.” I turn at the sound of a voice I don’t recognize. In the doorway is a woman in a black dress, pointing to my left. “I’m Miranda and Logan is my friend. I promise you, I saw her go that way.”
“Thank you,” I say with a nod, reaching for my phone as I head in that direction. I call Logan but she doesn’t pick up. I can’t say that I’m surprised, but it doesn’t stop me from hanging up and calling again. On my fifth attempt, I hear her phone. I look around, noticing that I’ve walked my way to The Square, right in the middle of Old Town. Then I see her. She’s alone, sitting on a bench, her face buried in her hands as her shoulders shake with her sobs.
I approach her hesitantly, not wishing to startle her, and ease my way into the space beside her. I place a comforting hand on her back and she jerks her head up to look at me before she moves away from my touch.
“Go away,” she demands.
“What?” I ask, appalled but not deterred by her reaction. “No.”
“Roman—just go.”
“I said no,” I declare, circling my arm around her waist. “Talk to me, Logan.”
“You deserve better than me,” she cries as she tries to push me away. “Let me go!”
“Stop it,” I insist, pulling her against my chest as I cage her in my arms. “Stop it! I’m not going anywhere.” She resists me for a second longer. When I hold her tighter, she surrenders, turning to wrap her arms around my neck as she buries her face in my shoulder.
“I’m a horrible person, Roman. I’m sorry.”
“What are you talking about?” I murmur. “I saw the whole thing, babe. You walked away. You’re not a horrible person. You have nothing to apologize for.”
“Yes, I do! You don’t understand,” she argues, pulling away from me. “I kissed him back. I didn’t mean to, but I did! That’s the point. I don’t want him. I don’t love him, I’m in love with you, but I’m all wrong. It’s—it’s everything about me.”
My heart skips a beat and I fo
rget almost everything she just said except—“You love me?”
“That’s not the point,” she groans as her shoulders slump in defeat. “You deserve better.”
“Babe—stop being so dramatic,” I urge, reaching for her face. I dry her cheeks with the pads of my thumbs and wait for her to take a few breaths. “Now, would you just calm down and tell me what you’re talking about?”
She sighs as she takes hold of my wrists and pulls my hands away from her. “I’m like Jude. He just stole that kiss. He’s been telling me for weeks that he wants me and that he usually gets what he wants. No wasn’t good enough for him.”
“He what?” I question, wishing I had punched him a second time.
She shakes her head at me before she continues. “I used to do that. Steal kisses. I never asked questions, I just took what I wanted. I played the field, knowing I could be the girl every guy wanted—even if Mack didn’t. But I wouldn’t let anyone keep me because I wasn’t playing for keeps. That’s the problem! I’m that girl. God, it’s like I’ve been in denial, thinking I could have it all. I can’t. I don’t deserve it. Not like you. You’re good—so fucking good.
“How many boyfriends did I make-out with? How many guys went out and pretended they didn’t have a girlfriend and fooled around with me instead? I don’t know! I never asked. I didn’t care. It was all about the chase. That’s exactly what it’s about with Jude! He couldn’t stand that I kept telling him no so he did what I would do—tried a different angle.
“Tonight, he said the right things—things I wanted to believe but now I’m not sure that I can—and he stole that kiss. And I get it. I get him because that was me. I’m not good, Roman. I’m like him. You deserve—”
“Don’t say it,” I tell her, placing a finger over her lips. “Don’t say it, because it’s not true.”
“But it is—”
“Was. That was you.”
I shake my head as I try and find the words to explain how I feel and what I see when I look at her. It kills me that she thinks she’s anything like that guy. I can’t stand him and yet she…she means more to me than I ever thought possible. She is a portrait of redemption to me. I would never have come close to falling in love with the Logan I knew a year ago—but the woman in front of me now?
