by Lisa Suzanne
The event is held here every year, and every year it gets a little bigger and a little better. This year is no exception.
I walk up to one of the women seated at the check-in table and Emme walks up to check in with another.
“Just you tonight?” she asks. I sense a hint of snottiness in her tone.
“Yeah,” I say uncomfortably. “Just me.”
She gives me a look of sympathy, and it just serves to anger me. It was my decision to come here alone tonight.
I refuse to explain myself, though. I just shoot her my most sugary smile.
“Courtney Sanders,” a genial voice behind me booms as the check-in lady hands me a program of the evening’s events plus two drink tickets.
I turn to see Brandon looking dapper in a suit and a gorgeous Vickie wearing a navy dress.
Brandon’s smile warms me. “Stag tonight?” he asks.
“Shut up,” I mutter. “Vickie, you look beautiful.”
“I love your dress,” she gushes, and she turns to me as Brandon checks in. “I read your revenge sex article.”
I cover my eyes with my hand. “I’m sorry. I’m so embarrassed about that.”
She tugs at my arm and looks at me meaningfully. “You shouldn’t be. We’ve all been there.”
“We have?”
She smiles. “Yeah, we have, and besides, Brandon is hot. I don’t blame you for thinking of it, and if you hadn’t decided not to act on it, I’m not sure what would’ve happened between us, so I guess in a way I have to thank you for that. He might’ve decided to be with you if you had gone after him, but instead, we’re giving it a try.”
“You are?” I ask, my voice an octave higher than normal. She nods. “I’m so happy for both of you.”
She squeezes my hand. “So am I.”
“I like you, Vickie. I think you’ll be good for Brandon.”
“I like you, too, and he has saved me more times than I can count.”
Brandon sidles up behind Vickie and wraps his arms around her waist from behind. They’re so cute together that I’m not even jealous.
Axel and Emme join us, and after introductions are made, the five of us head toward the first stop of any event: the bar.
My drink of choice tonight is sparkling wine. It’s a night for celebrating, and I plan to do just that.
We mingle for the first hour. Events with thirty honorees are typically well attended, and that’s certainly the case tonight. The only bad part is the instrumental music the band is playing on one side of the venue is just a little loud. It’s hard to hear conversation, and I always feel self-conscious asking people to repeat themselves. I take tons of mental notes and jot a few details down on my phone since I promised The Chronicle I’d send them an article profiling this year’s event. I make sure to chat with several of the heaviest hitters so I can quote them in my article. Then when work’s out of the way, I head back to the bar to redeem drink ticket number two.
As I’m walking away from the bar, a hand tugs my arm at the elbow. When I turn to glare at the culprit, my eyes land on Harrison.
“Having fun yet?” he asks, his blue eyes twinkling.
My eyes slide to the date beside him. She’s pretty and has the type of body men cry over, but she actually looks a little dead behind the eyes, like there’s not much going on upstairs. I hold up my glass of sparkling wine. “I’ve already redeemed both drink tickets, so that should tell you something.”
He chuckles and leans in closer to me. “If I recall correctly, a drunk Courtney is a fun Courtney.”
I raise an eyebrow at him. “I guess you would know.”
He raises an eyebrow back at me, and I feel like we could do this all night. The dead-eyed date tugs his arm, and he rolls his eyes before he turns to look at her. “Harry, are we getting drinks?” she whines.
Harry? He always hated that nickname.
“Just saying hi to an old friend first.”
“Old?” I ask.
He chuckles. “I thought maybe you’d get stuck on friend before old.”
I giggle. “Friends forever.”
He smiles at my reference to our breakup pact. “With and without benefits.”
“Without, tonight,” I say, nodding toward his date.
He waggles his eyebrows. “Not for me.”
I laugh and hold up my hand as I wiggle my fingers. “Not for me, either.”
His eyes darken wickedly, and then Dead Eyes tugs his attention away from me.
“Text me something I can use in the article I’m sending to The Chronicle,” I say. He nods and then follows his date to the bar.
As I turn away from him, my eyes zero in on a lone figure standing on the other side of the venue. My breath catches in my throat as the identity of the person registers in my mind.
I stand and stare at him.
I hadn’t expected to see him here tonight. He’s new in town. Why is he here?
The narcissistic side of my brain wonders if he came to see me.
The more logical side believes maybe Axel had something to do with it. Emme is one of the honorees, too, and maybe Axel invited Carter.
Whatever the case, he’s sharing the same space as me once again, and tonight I don’t like it.
I think back to last night when I saw him at The Port chatting up some woman.
A horrifying thought enters my mind—did he bring a date tonight?
Oh my God. If he brought a date and I’m here stag, I think I might die.
I tear my eyes away from him. Part of me wants to hide, and the other part of me wants to confront him; I’m not exactly sure which side is going to win that battle.
Luckily, my best friend intercepts me before I have to make that decision. “C’mon, Court. Dinner’s about to start and Axel grabbed us a big table.”
She takes my hand in hers, and I follow wordlessly to a round table with seating for ten. I sit beside Emme, and Axel is on the other side of her. Brandon and Vickie take seats on my other side, another couple who hangs out regularly at The Port occupies two other chairs, and one of Brandon’s close friends and his wife take up two more.
That leaves one empty chair at our table, and I already know who is going to occupy it. It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out.
The staff brings out plates and somehow we are all served the first course at exactly the same time. The lone seat remains open, which makes me think he must’ve come with a date.
Then just as I lift a bite of a salmon appetizer to my mouth, Carter fucking King slides into the empty chair. He looks at Axel. “Sorry I’m late.”
His eyes dart over to mine, and I look away immediately. This is so childish, but I really want nothing to do with him, especially not on this night. This is a night honoring my accomplishments as well as those of my peers, and he’s new to town. It makes no sense that he’s even here.
I finish my sparkling wine with a few gulps. I need to keep my wits about me since I have a short speech to give, and because this is technically a business event, but it is taking place at a winery. One more glass won’t hurt…or two. I reach for the bottle of wine on the table and fill my glass.
Emme leans in closer to me as I take my first sip. “You okay?” she whispers. The instrumental music is still loud enough that we can have a quiet conversation without being overheard.
“No, I’m not. What’s he doing here?”
“He’s presenting.”
“You knew about this?”
“I found out yesterday.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“What good would it have done?”
“At least I could’ve maybe found a date.”
“You may notice that he doesn’t have one, either.”
“Stop it,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Stop what?” She gives me a look of innocence.
“Stop trying to push us together.”
“I’m not. I just want you to be happy, and you were when you were with him.”
“Yeah, all the way up until he decided to lie to me.”
“How do you know he lied?”
“The magic of eyesight. He was with his ex when he told me they were over.”
“Honey, I know you don’t want to hear it, but what if there’s more to the story and you’re refusing to hear it?”
“It doesn’t matter.” I shake my head and take another sip of wine. “It’s over.” My traitorous eyes slide over to him. He’s talking to the person beside him, the wife of one of the guys Axel knows. Three honorees at one table, and, apparently, a presenter.
He is as gorgeous as ever with his hair all perfect and that little bit of stubble I can still feel grazing my leg if I think hard enough about it. His eyes flick over to mine, and I hold his gaze for a few beats this time before looking away.
I can’t help the disappointment that lances through me when I think about what could’ve been with him.
I really think we could have made magic together, but instead, here we sit, and it pains me to even make eye contact with him because it just reminds me of how he used me and then took his ex to a benefit when he’d told me it was over with her.
“The way he looks at you, and the way you look back at him…neither of those things convince me that it’s over.”
“Well then it’s a damn good thing it’s not my job to convince you.” I pick my napkin up off my lap and set it on the table. I push my chair back and stand, suddenly needing some space, some breathing room. “Excuse me.”
I head toward the restrooms, which are inside the building with the restaurant and gift shop. As I wander in that direction, part of me seethes over Emme’s insinuation that Carter and I somehow belong together. The other part of me is pushing to let it all go. I don’t want to let Carter hamper one more thing in my life, and this event means a lot to me. I’m being recognized in front of my contemporaries for a job well done—something that rarely, if ever, happens when a person works independently. I don’t have a boss to tell me I did good or bad because I am the boss. I don’t have colleagues to pat me on the back when the chips fall or to celebrate my accomplishments with me because I’m my only colleague.
As such, being recognized here tonight means the world to me. I pull in a deep breath through my nose, focusing on the tiny bit of saltiness from the ocean miles away. I breathe in deeply, noting the coolness of the air as it fills my lungs. I force my eyes to focus on the beautiful brickwork that makes up the buildings at this winery. I think about how I need to come back here and take a tour of the place, to learn about the creation of the structures and the history of the vineyard. History was never my favorite subject in school, but this is wine we’re talking about, after all.
The deep breaths and my change of focus are helping. I enter the building through the quiet restaurant to get to the restrooms, taking in the architecture around me. I could definitely see my future wedding taking place here. I can picture a gorgeous ceremony outdoors on the bluffs overlooking the ocean, and I can almost picture my hands holding those of the man I love as we pledge our commitment to one another. My mind’s eye travels up the length of the suit that’s hiding a perfectly sculpted body that’ll be mine for all eternity, but when I reach his face, I see nothing.
There’s no one to fill in the blank spot.
You’re young, people say to me, and while that might be true, it doesn’t change the fact that I’m also very alone with zero prospects currently on the horizon.
I take my time in the restroom. It’s just me in there because nobody gets up during dinner—just me, the girl who was tired of listening to her best friend stick up for someone who doesn’t deserve it.
I gaze at myself in the mirror. I can’t figure out what’s so wrong about me, so fundamentally unlovable.
I know I’m not, but sometimes it just feels that way.
It always seems to go back to my job. People just can’t handle what I do. I love Emme, and I love how she supports me and what I do, but most girls hate me because I write the truth. Come to think of it, that’s what gets me in trouble with the boys, too.
I sigh. I can’t think like that.
I can’t get down on myself for the exact thing I’m so proud of and am being recognized for tonight.
I open the bathroom door and walk down the short, deserted hallway. I pass through the archway and into the main part of the restaurant, my eyes focused on the hardwood floors. I’m trying to figure out if it’s reclaimed or some rustic dark wood, and I’m nearly to the exit when I’m pulled from my concentration by the sound of a throat being cleared.
I look up.
My eyes meet Carter’s.
He stands in front of the door—the same door I need to walk through to exit this building. He’s blocking my path.
I don’t say anything at first. I can’t really figure out what I want to say. How do you sum up hurt and anger when you’re trying to pretend everything’s okay?
“Hey,” he says first.
“Hi.”
“Can we talk?”
I shake my head. “No. I need to get back out there.”
“I know. This won’t take long.”
“What are you even doing here?” I grit out.
“I was invited to present.”
I take a step closer to him, to the door. “Look, tonight’s important to me. You hurt me. Tonight’s for celebrating. I can’t celebrate with you here, but I have to deal with it, so please just leave me alone.”
I see a wave of sadness pass through his eyes, and it just serves to anger me. He has no right to be sad after what he did.
He finally nods. “I’m sorry. I’ll leave you alone tonight. Congratulations.”
CHAPTER 19
My appetizer has been cleared away and a salad awaits me when I return to my seat.
“You okay?” Emme asks, concern lighting her pretty blue eyes.
I shrug. “I’m fine.”
“You run into him?” she asks, nodding to Carter’s empty chair.
I sigh heavily. “Sure did.”
“And?”
“And nothing, Ems,” I say with exasperation. “I told him I wish he wasn’t here tonight. It’s that simple, and it’s that complicated. Now can we drop it and focus on why we’re here?”
She gives me a look, and then she turns toward Axel and talks to him. I’m sandwiched between two couples. I love Brandon, but he’s nuzzling Vickie’s neck like it’s winter and he’s her scarf. I love Emme, too, but clearly I pissed her off—which I don’t even really understand since she pissed me off first. Is it really such a damn surprise that I don’t want to talk about him?
Carter slips back into his seat, but I avoid actually looking at him. Instead, I stare down at my plate like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. While champagne chicken and new potatoes are certainly nice, they aren’t really that fascinating.
The interminable meal finally ends, and just before dessert is served, the emcee takes the stage to start the presentation.
Thank God for that, because I couldn’t really take another second of being the cream filling of the couple Oreo on either side of me.
“Welcome, esteemed colleagues and guests. I’m Phillip Westlake of this very winery, and we thank you for choosing our venue for your event tonight. I hope you’re enjoying the wine and food that are the fruits of my family’s labor of love. I’m honored to welcome tonight’s host, the editor-in-chief of the San Diego Business Weekly, Mr. Steven Forester. Mr. Forester has served as the magazine’s editor for twenty-five years, which is funny considering that several of tonight’s honorees are younger than twenty-five.” A small chuckle rises up from the crowd. “I congratulate all of the honorees tonight. May your business be ever-fruitful and your entrepreneurial spirit abundant. And now, ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Steven Forester.”
We all clap like good little girls and boys, and then Steven takes the stage. I’ve met him several times, and he’s a bit of a silver fox if I’m being h
onest. I’d never actually go after him, obviously, but it would most definitely make for good reading material on the blog.
Steven gives his welcome address while we eat our desserts—some wickedly delicious treat made up of chocolate cake and warm caramel sauce—and then discusses the six categories of honorees this year, which include education, technology, philanthropy, media, science, and commerce.
I’m being honored for media. Emme and Harrison are both in the commerce category, and Brandon is in the philanthropy category. Steven introduces the first presenter, last year’s California Teacher of the Year, to present the education honorees. Each winner is announced and then makes a very short speech. Most of them sound the same and start to run together, but I pretend to be very interested in the first two categories in an effort to completely ignore the man across the table from me.
Steven takes the stage again after the technology category is finished, and I start to get a little nervous. There are still six honorees in the philanthropy category before media is announced, but I hate public speaking. I realize I have a public audience every single day through my blog, but it’s much different when I’m sitting behind a screen versus when I’m up in front of people. The whole thing just makes me uncomfortable.
I try to focus on what Steven is saying so I’m not thinking about how dumb the words I’ve written for my speech are going to sound. This sometimes happens to me when I publish a blog post, too, where I feel like what I’ve written is stupid and not worth anyone’s time. I sort of wonder what it is about me that has me being honored tonight. Am I really on par with people like Brandon who do so much to give back?
“The presenter for the philanthropy category is new to San Diego, and I have no doubt he’ll be a top choice to be honored at this event next year. He has already done so much for our community since he has taken over as the executive director of King Contributions, and we are lucky to have someone who is dedicated to giving back and helping others right here in our midst. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Mr. Carter King.”
A rousing round of applause hits my ears as the man I’m trying to ignore stands and starts for the stage.
