Page 205 of On a Fault Line

“You look beautiful tonight,” he says, coughing into his arm. “I meant to say, you look beautiful always.” He rocks on his feet. “But especially tonight.”

“Thank you.”

He really is a sweet guy.

“Can I help you to your seat?” Ivan says, offering his bent arm.

I link mine with his and allow him to escort me back to the table, where my entire family is beaming with excitement over me being selected for a date. Even my brothers look decently happy…

This is weird.

They are all acting weird.

Momma gives my hand a squeeze, and Dad is looking at me like I hung the moon just by showing up today. It’s too over-the-top in the gratitude department.

I’m not at prom or a sweet sixteen party, yet it sort of feels like it.

It’s a little-Penny-is-growing-up moment I don’t want to experience right now.

“That’s really special that Ivan chose you,” Momma whispers.

“Yup,” I lie.

Does she think our conversation earlier was about him?

Momma has to realize how biased she is toward her friend’s son. Of course she would lean toward a man who she already knows belongs to a good family. Dad has to be excited too since Ivan is now part of the business that he’ll soon be leaving.

But I don’t want Ivan.

I want Collins Stone.

And no matter what smile I plaster on my face, it’s hard to feel special when the man who I actually want has been MIA for days.

I glance around the room looking for him, yet not expecting to actually see him. But when my eyes scan the perimeter, I don’t find Collins…

I find Mark Tanner.

“He’s here,” I whimper, but my words get stuck in my throat.

He’s here.

“Who’s here?” Angie asks, looking around.

Claire leans in. “Yeah, who? Anyone I know?”

Turning, I look back to where Mark was standing. He’s gone.

Getting up from the table, I stumble but catch myself, shooing off anyone who wants to offer me help.

“I’m just going to take a breather. Maybe I’ll get some fresh air.”

But what I really need is help.

No one can fix me when I’m this messed up.

I just keep walking through the room, weaving myself between tables. I allow my legs to carry my body down the hallway and out the back door. When I’m on the balcony, I step toward the railing that overlooks the Willamette River. Leaning over, I stare down at the sidewalk where people are coming and going from the charity event.

Taking a seat into the chair in the corner near the potted, fuchsia flowers, I sink down into the cushions, thankful for a break away from my well-intentioned family.

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