Page 146 of Faithful

“Aren’t you glad I’m here?” She sidles up to me and hugs my arm.

“You spent all of ten minutes with me since you came,” I scoff, noting to myself that although she’s being a little shit tonight, she looks amazing in her cream tea-length dress and stilettos.

Leigh smiles dreamily. “Not my fault Derreck Vinchetti is here.”

Her voice is drowned out by the click of the cameras and the agitated murmur of the crowd.

Another limo pulls up and a woman in a long silver evening gown appears. Lena Kalchin.

Just like Vinchetti, she’s a huge name among human rights activists. I’ve never met her in person, but I’ve done a lot of research on her since Blue Sun Project actually secured Lena’s appearance at the event. Her family was directly affected by the Chernobyl disaster. They later immigrated to the States when Lena was sixteen. She got involved with various charities and began to do volunteer work while she was still in high school.

Lena Kalchin is someone I admire. And not because she’s brave enough to wear a sleeveless dress in winter (even if this winter has proved to be abnormally warm and there are heaters everywhere in the hotel and around it tonight), but because she’s real.

And then I think of Gavin. My father. A two-faced, twisted bigot who uses power to subdue others.

And I just want to stick it to him so bad that my head hurts.

“Believe it or not, but we actually had a conversation?” Leigh continues to talk into my ear as my gaze follows Lena to the step and repeat.

Besides her publicist, she hasn’t brought anyone.

She quickly poses for photos and then moves to the side for interviews.

Another limo approaches the edge of the red carpet.

“Huh?” I turn to Leigh. “Who are you talking about?”

She pouts and slaps my back. “Vinchetti.”

“Am I sensing a new man crush in progress?”

“You have to agree he’s hot.”

“He’s alright.” I pause, then add casually, “Not my type.”

Leigh giggles and brings her face to my cheek, then murmurs, “Watson finally embraced his inner gay.”

In return, I pinch her side. “Fuck you.”

A woman to my right must have heard me cursing because she gives me a nuclear glare.

I ignore her.

The noise on the sidewalk spills over to the red carpet and rolls through the crowd.

Another big name, I think to myself as I direct my attention to the limo.

My heart lurches.

Accompanied by his wife and two younger kids (the ones who have yet to pick which Ivy League school they’ll go to) is Charles Heller. They are dressed in expensive evening attire that could put my own tux to shame (even though I paid quite a lot of money for it). A perfect family, smiles and all.

Leigh must have felt me tensing up because she slips her hand down to mine and laces our fingers together. My emotions rise up like a high tide, and I nearly choke on air.

I knew Heller would be at the event. I just didn’t expect to have such a strong reaction to his presence.

“You okay?” Leigh asks as I try very hard to tear my gaze away from the man in question.

“I’m good.” I nod. “I gotta go check in with Winona. I’ll see you inside, yeah?”

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