Page 157 of The Perfect Mistake

“You do?”

“Of course. I shouldn’t have noticed you in that way, but I did. Even as far gone as I was… I did.” His lips tip up into a half smile. “And every time we bumped into each other after that, I couldn’t help but notice you over and over again, and feel like a creep. For wanting to get to know you. For feeling the attraction.”

I grin. “A creep? What does that make you now?”

He wraps his hands around my waist and leans until our foreheads touch. “I have no idea, and I don’t care. I only care what you think of me.”

“I think you’re the best person I’ve ever known,” I say. “But I also think you’re stalling. We’re both ready to leave.”

He groans and closes his eyes. “This is not the date night I wanted us to have.”

I chuckle. “I think it’s perfect. And as soon as it’s over…”

“Mm-hmm. We’ll come back here, and we’ll be all alone.” He lifts me off the counter and I slide down his body, landing on the balls of my feet. “Let’s go, then, sweetheart. Let’s face the wolves.”

St. Regis’s annual Christmas fundraiser is the event of the year. They’d called three separate times to confirm Alec’s attendance. He’s that big of a donor, apparently.

Mac drives us. Both he and Katja have handled my transition from being an employee to Alec’s girlfriend surprisingly well. Katja spoke to me for a solid hour about how much she liked me and wanted the best for me, while Mac had told me that he was happy for me. Working relationships can be hard, he had added. I hope you two can handle it.

We’d been alone in the car at the time, and I hadn’t been able to resist.

They can be, I said. But they can also be worth it. Don’t you think?

He didn’t respond to that, but he did glance down at the coffee cup and sandwich resting in the center console. We both knew who prepped them for him. She didn’t need to tuck a little cookie into his lunch packs, or make him freshly brewed coffee as often as she did.

I suspected we both knew why she did that, too.

Alec offers me his arm when we enter the fundraiser. The school rented a penthouse space a few blocks away from campus, and the decor is spectacular. Snowflakes hang from the high ceilings, and music plays from the hidden speakers. The place is already packed.

I shift closer to Alec. “What are you planning on bidding on?”

“Bidding?”

“The school sent out a list of all the blind-bid items available for auction. They were described by kids and accompanied by a drawing. It’s a cute idea.”

Alec chuckles. “That’s how they plan to raise money?”

“Oh, yes. I read all about it in the newsletter. Forwarded it to you, too.”

“I should have read it.”

“You’re busy.”

His mouth grazes my temple. “Never too busy for you. You smell good.”

“Mmm. People are watching us.”

“Let them,” he says.

We each grab a glass of champagne and take a turn around the elaborately decorated room. There is a row of tables in the back, displaying the auction items. Little bowls in front of the framed kid-drawn artwork are filled with folded notes containing people’s bids.

A group of women approaches us. I recognize the one in the middle immediately from the last time we attended a St. Regis event. The woman who made the comments about me and Alec. The mother of Willa’s friend, who had wanted Alec to come to her networking meetups disguised as dinner parties.

“Alec,” she says warmly. The other women smiles at him, too, but their eyes all slide to his hand resting on the small of my back.

“Ladies,” he says. “Excellent event, as always.”

“Thank you. So happy you could make it. Checking out the blind-bid items?”

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