Page 64 of The Winslow Brothers

But something about this strikes me as different. It doesn’t feel final like it should, and frankly, that terrifies me.

For as perpetually single as I am, I haven’t often dealt with feelings of rejection or loss. I haven’t been the one left standing there holding the proverbial bag. I’ve been the roadrunner, nothing left to deal with but a puff of smoke.

The elevator dings its arrival at the ballroom-floor level of the Mandarin, and I scamper out like a newborn colt, all arms and legs and incoordination.

“Shoot,” I mumble as I almost trip over my own damn feet in the hall, stutter-stepping on the carpet and throwing out a hand into the wall to stop my face from eating floor.

Forcing myself to pause and reset, I take a deep breath in through my nose, hold it, and then blow all the toxic energy out through my mouth.

Get over it,I coach myself.So what if you told Dr. Winters that your date with your TapNext match Nathan ended badly and didn’t go any further into the story? It’s not like you don’t see her every week…you can easily clear your conscience next Wednesday by hashing out all the details then.

I nod. I’m right. This isn’t a big deal. I’m freaking out for nothing.

It’s over and done. He snuck out—the end. I’ll have plenty of time to let Dr. Winters take a deep dive into the psychological consequences, and for now, I just need to concentrate on setting up for this event. The event that’s probably about to start any minute.

Shit!

I glance down at my watch and break into a jog immediately. Julie really is going to kill me.

I round the hallway to the far side of the ballroom and bust in like a bull in a china shop. The door bangs against the wall and echoes throughout the large space, but I don’t pause to do anything about it. As far as I know, doors and walls don’t respond to apologies anyway.

Julie is on the far side of the room, bent down over a cart of supplies, when news of my boisterous arrival cracks throughout the space, bringing her gaze to me straightaway.

“I know,” I say with a raise of my hands as Julie gives me the stank eye of an employee. It’s half respectful, half hateful and reeks of both hating me and wanting to keep her job. “I’m sorry I’m late!”

“It’s okay,” she says, even though we both know it’s not okay at all.

“Where are we? What’s left to get done before the guests start flooding in here?”

Julie points to the other side of the room. “Centerpieces still need to go on all the tables, and I’m finishing up the tablescapefor the buffets. Audiovisual is all done, and the sponsor gift bags are all arranged.”

“What about the step and repeat outside? I know that was one of the most important things on the sponsor’s list.”

“It’s all set up. I started with that as soon as I got here…two hours ago.”

I gulp and laugh, though I know to Julie nothing seems even remotely funny. “Point acknowledged, babe. Really. Thank you for taking up the slack.”

“Of course, boss.”

I roll my eyes. “You know I hate when you call me that.”

“I do, boss.”

I laugh. I deserve it, honestly.

I hustle to grab a couple centerpieces, and she follows me, grabbing two of her own. “Tell me you were at least doing something interesting in your absence. Having a tryst with Johnny Depp. Licking Channing’s Tatum. Starring in an adult film? Something.”

I snort. “Oh, Julie, you know I’m not that noteworthy.”

“You could be,” she insists. “If you just let down your guard a little bit. You’re freaking supermodel-level gorgeous without even trying, and you’re one of the nicest women I know. If you’re any good in bed, you’re like the lotto jackpot of women.”

“Maybe. But I’m also a head case. Trust me.”

“Oh yeah. I know that, too.”

Having set the centerpieces down, I shove her in the shoulder as we head back to grab more. “Thanks.”

“Hey, we’ve all got our issues, you know? I’m not judging. But you are definitely crazy. And occasionally late.”

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