“She’s teaching me to lighten up. I promise.”
More laughter, but all of it feels very far away. Like maybe someone just chucked me into a dunk tank and I’m underwater.
Because did I just hear that right?
Did he just call me his girlfriend? By name?
Because that’s… that’s…
It should be wonderful. And the blush I’m rocking is definitely setting a new record for heat intensity.
But in the back of my mind, I know that the fantasy only works if there’re only a few people who know. If the world knows that we’re boyfriend and girlfriend, how the hell do I come back from that?
How does he?
“I’ll be back,” I tell the table. “Need to get some air. Or a drink. Yeah, I need to get a drink.”
I stumble away from the table before they can say anything and before Warren can return. Hopefully, he’s held up for a bit by well-wishers while I get my thoughts together.
I’m making a beeline for the bathroom for a moment of privacy when suddenly a voice cuts through the noise and pins me in place.
“Well, look who it is. How’s my little jailbird?”
I turn and see him standing there, a horrible blast from the past worse than Carrie. Worse than anyone. He’s loosened his cheap chartreuse tie and draped his jacket over his arm, looking like the New York art trash that he is. His hair’s loaded with so much gel he should qualify as a fire hazard, and if I’d been drinking more, I’d probably throw up on the spot.
“What are you doing here?” I snap at him, wishing my voice wasn’t shaking.
“Aww, Au-bear. Don’t you want to introduce me to your new boyfriend?”
He smirks at me. God, why do I have the worst taste in ex-boyfriends? If there’s a douchebag in New York, chances are he’s my ex.
“Leave me alone,” I mutter, trying not to sound like it matters.
“I only came to this tonight hoping to pick up a few potential clients, but now I get to reconnect with an old friend and get an introduction to the governor. What a lucky break. So tell me, Aud, does he know you like I do?”
Behind him, another familiar person appears because my fantasy bubble has officially popped. Tiny pieces of fantasy confetti are raining down on my head, burning my new life to the ground. It’s my old lawyer, because of course he’s here, too. I met him through Thomas, after all. Thomas, my worst ex. Thomas, the one who knows the worst about me and is just enough of an asshole to blab to the entire room.
But it doesn’t matter, does it? It’s Thomas, or it’s my lawyer, or it’s someone else. This is a house of cards, and no matter how it comes down, it’ll hurt Warren.
I’m totally inappropriate for him.
Because no one wants a first lady with a criminal record.
This has to be the end. I just need to make it through the rest of this evening and then I’ll break it off, explain to Warren that being with me would be toxic for his future. I’m attempting to duck past Thomas and re-enter the ballroom when my lawyer speeds up his pace and calls out my name.
“Audrey! I really need to speak with you!”
No way. Not here. Not now.
There’s only one thing to do. And maybe I do seem wishy-washy and indecisive. And I’m definitely letting Warren down. But this is what they mean about being cruel to be kind, right? I’m not good for him. I can’t help him. And I can’t be by his side. Not anymore.
They’re serving the dessert as I bail out, leaving Thomas staring dumbfounded as I turn around and duck out a side door. Because as much as I want that cake, staying would mean bringing on more scandal, and I won’t do it.
I’m running, stupid high heels in hand.
Chapter Thirty-One
I have to take the train to get back home, but that won’t even get me there all the way. Ugh. I have to do one of the most embarrassing things I’ve ever done.
I have to ask Miller for help.
I tell him in the text that I’d like to hire him, as a gig worker, to pick me up. I try to keep it official so that it’s not as pathetic.
But honestly, there isn’t really any getting around the pathetic part. Especially when I’m going to have to go to the train station in my evening wear, by myself, with tears streaking down my cheeks.
I