squeezing to get his attention. He looks down at me, one brow quirked in question.
“Is that Rihanna?” I whisper-hiss. He follows my line of sight, and he chuckles lowly.
“She’s a UNICEF ambassador.”
I squeeze his bicep for support, suddenly feeling faint. Jesus Christ, I’m at an event with Rihanna. Lord help me.
Amused over how starstruck I am, Baz leads us to our table. We’re seated with a handful of other people I don’t know. But if the way they’re dressed were any indication, I’d say they’re important.
After two glasses of champagne, I start to feel its effects. I even cozy into Baz’s side. Not that he seems to mind. He takes it in stride, pulling my chair right up next to his and wrapping his arm around the back of my seat, caging me into him. He smells so good tonight. Like spice, clean laundry, and something manly that is inherently Baz.
Through the speeches and the handful of presenters, I lean my head on Baz’s shoulder and I close my eyes, wishing things were different. I can almost imagine this is real. That it isn’t all some façade and that he brought me as his date because he feels the same way about me as I feel about him. The tips of his fingers circle the back of my neck in dizzying strokes that almost put me to sleep.
Once the attendees are up and walking around, conversing after dinner, I decide to use the restroom and stretch my legs. I try not to blush when I get compliments on the gown from other women who are dressed just as impeccably, if not more so.
I wander around for a while as I finish my fourth glass of champagne. Drinking so much probably isn’t the smartest decision, but I want to be numb. I don’t want to think about the what-ifs of tonight anymore.
My legs take me farther and farther away from the large crowds of attendees. I walk around the venue, my feet screaming in these heels. I eventually come to a stop just outside of the great hall where the main event is being held. This is another ballroom of sorts, with artisan rugs and furniture that costs more than anything I’ve ever owned in my life. I plop down in one of the leather seats with gold trimming. A few other guests are milling about, but they’re far enough away that I can’t hear anything but the low murmur of their voices. Which is perfect—it gives me a chance to get lost in my own thoughts.
“I was wondering where you ran off to,” Baz says, coming to a stop in front of me. I heave a deep sigh. I keep replaying my sister’s words, and I keep thinking about the last event we attended.
“Just needed some air.” I shrug, glancing around and taking in the opulence. A scoff bubbles up my chest.
“What?”
“I thought my life would be different by now, you know? But here I am, still in the same place I was all those years ago. Maybe not physically, but I’m still there. And I’m tired, Baz,” I whisper. “I’m so tired. I want to let go, but I can’t. Why can’t I just let go?”
I finally look up at him, and his face gives nothing away as he listens to me vent. I get the sense he’s letting me get it all out here in the open, so I take that opportunity.
“I thought by now I’d have a career, I’d be madly in love with a good man, and we’d be starting a family. Isn’t it sad that that’s all I’ve ever really wanted out of life? Someone to love and someone to love me back for once?” The truth is spilling out of me like word vomit now, thanks to all the alcohol I’ve consumed throughout the night.
Baz sighs and takes the seat next to me. “There’s nothing sad about that. You can still have all of that.”
I laugh, but it comes out choked and strained. “You know that’s not true. Don’t lie to make me feel better. I’m a mess. I’ve been a mess for the last nine years.”
“What do you want then, Mackenzie?”
My bottom lip trembles. I shift on the leather seat, turning to look at him. “To be happy.”
His eyes rake across my face as he processes my answer. “And what would make you happy?”
“Ava would.” I say it without thinking. It’s not a lie, but I know I’m in no headspace to raise