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His dimples.
My gaze instinctively searches for him in the crowd and I hate myself for it.
I find him.
Declan.
He’s where he’s been all night and looking right at me.
“I have to go pee.” I blurt it out. “Does this place have a bathroom?”
“Yes.” Totally unoffended, Cari just laughs. “Down the hall,” she says, opening her clutch to pull out a key. “Use the bathroom in Miranda’s office. It’s private.” She presses the key into my hand with a smile. “I’ll keep the boys occupied.”
She’s already slipped through the crowd and has her arm linked through Patrick’s before I understand what she’s implying.
Declan is still watching me.
A warm flush rushes over me and my knees go so soft I’m not sure how I’m going to walk but I manage it. Slipping and squeezing my way through the crowd, I finally push myself into the hallway. Passing a trio of Kardashian wannabes, on my way down the hall, I find a door marked
Miranda Tate:
Owner & Curator
Slippingthe key Cari gave me into the knob I give it a twist, letting myself in before shutting and locking the door behind me.
Take that, Ms. Matchmaker.
Tucking the key inside my purse, I toss it on Miranda’s desk on my way to the bathroom. I don’t have to use it but I shut the door anyway. Wash my hands. Stare at myself in the mirror and ask myself what the hell is wrong with me.
Declan and I were together for one summer, nearly a decade ago. Three months. Yes, things happened that were irrevocable, but those things damaged me. I should not still feel this way. He should not still have this effect on me.
I shouldn’t still love him. The fact that I do makes me feel pathetic. Defective.
My gaze drifts over my reflection, finding and settling on the hummingbird I have tattooed on my collarbone.
There’s nothing wrong with you, Hummingbird. You’re perfect, just the way you are.
Taking a deep breath, I let it out in a slow, steady stream. I’ll tell Cari I’m going to make it an early night. Ask Patrick to take Ryan back to Sojourn. I’ll get out of this stupid dress, take off these medieval torture devices Henley calls shoes, put on my sweats and binge watch Jessica Jones until my eyes glaze over.
Sounds perfect.
All I have to do is leave this bathroom, brave a mob of snotty, caviar-slurping assholes and avoid Declan Gilroy like the emotional plague he is on my way to the exit.
Step one: Open the door.
Piece of cake.
Pulling it open and stepping into Miranda’s office, my escape plan is derailed before I can even consider step two.
Declan is blocking my only exit.
I look at the door he’s leaning against. It’s locked. Just how I left it. “How’d you get in here?”
“Door was open.” One of his dimples makes an appearance.
“No, it wasn’t.”
“No.” He shakes his head, his dimple slowly disappearing. “It wasn’t.”