Page 83 of Pretty Please Me
“Can I have everyone’s attention, please? I’d like to say a few words,” my dad says over the microphone, and I jerk my head to see him standing on the stage. I clench my fists at my sides and grit my teeth.
Jeremy’s just looking for another payout, and I’ll be damned if I’ll give him one.
“Excuse me,” I say as I slam my shoulder into his and make my way toward the stage. It takes a few deep breaths before my heart falls back into a normal rhythm, but I focus on my dad until I’m calm.
“… and after all these years, I couldn’t have accomplished any of those things if it weren’t for the people here tonight. Not only have you kept me in business, but your friendship is something I’ll cherish for as long as I live. Few men are able to live their dream lives and make a living while doing it, and I know that none of that would be possible without a little help from my friends.” He holds up his glass of champagne. “Thank you for coming tonight. Now let’s party!”
Everyone clinks their glasses and applauds as my dad walks off the stage and joins them on the floor, where he’s pulled into hugs and people clapping him on the back in congratulations.
The bands about to break into their next song when I walk on stage, “Sorry, guys, could I just say something real quick?” I ask the lead singer, and he steps away from the mic, giving me the floor.
I take the mic off the stand and loosen my tie, which feels like a noose around my throat as the chatter in the crowd dies down.
“Good evening, everyone. I’d like to thank you again for coming tonight to shower my dad with love. He’s one of the good ones, and people like that deserve to be celebrated. My whole life I’ve watched my father embrace each day like it was brand new. No matter what kind of pain or heartache the previous day held, he’d start each day with a fresh slate, taking it just as it was. It’s an inspiring thing to behold, really. My father showed me what it meant to work hard, even when times were tough, when I didn’t feel like it and when the cards were stacked against me and things felt like they could implode at any moment. He taught me how to keep my mind set on what’s important in life and what really matters. I watched him build his business from the ground up, then rebuild it from the ashes and make it into something better than it was before. Any man can work hard and put in the hours, but doing it with a heart of pure gold, giving more than you take, and seeing the best in everyone you deal with… that’s the special sauce they don’t just pass out to everyone. And that’s something worth celebrating.” I raise my glass and find my dad looking up at me with tears in his eyes. “I’d like to give a toast to the best man I’ve ever known. May his generosity and kindness rub off on us all.”
Everyone cheers and toasts, and Charlotte hugs me as I make my way off the stage. “Oh, Sam, that was lovely. Thank you for saying such kind words. I know that means a lot to your dad, especially coming from you.” She kisses me on the cheek.
I glance up to see Maggie staring at me with hearts in her eyes, which is like a punch to the gut. She saunters over and wraps her hands around my neck as she sways to the music.
“I knew you were just a big old softie deep down there. You just needed something to bring it out,” she teases as she pokes me in the chest.
She feels so good pressed against me, but despite my poised speech, I’m still reeling from my exchange with Jeremy. My blood boils under my skin, and I yank at my tie, desperate for air.
Maggie’s eyes search my face. “What’s wrong, Sam? Is everything okay?”
Memories of Jeremy and Claire wrapped in each other's arms flash through my mind like a flip-book, drawing the rage of betrayal and humiliation to the surface. My skin burns hot as I feel the last ropes of control slide out of my grip, and panic rises in my chest.
I push away from Maggie. “I just need some air…”
“But, Sam, I–”
“Don’t follow me, Maggie. I just need a minute to myself,” I yell over my shoulder and walk off toward the pool, away from the crowd. My inner monster unleashed and terrified…
THIRTY-ONE
Maggie
I watch Sam walk away as tears burn behind my eyes. Something happened during the time I stepped away and when he made his speech, but for the life of me, I don’t know what could have upset him so badly.
My eyes search the party, but all the faces are new. It’s not like I know anyone here. I want to chase after him and help him calm down, but he told me to give him space. Maybe this is my last chance to fulfill my role as his submissive?
I grab a glass of champagne from a passing tray and down it as I take in the beautiful courtyard. Tents cover food stations in a circle around a large dance floor. Groups of round tables are set off to each side in clusters, and people wander the grounds, the beautiful beach house providing quaint spaces to be alone.
I never imagined people could live like this, and it’s lit a fire of something I don’t recognize in my belly. Not jealousy, per se. More like recognition that I’d like this someday, too. I can’t imagine anything better than having a home surrounded by friends and family who love me and come together to celebrate life’s little milestones.
Birthdays, anniversaries, graduation parties. I want it all. I want a big silly dog with floppy ears to play fetch with. I want a home set apart on a little piece of land overlooking the water. I want to share my life with someone I love and grow a garden, teach yoga, and revel in life’s little magical moments. I want to have the amazing, toe-curling sex that I thought only existed in romance novels. And I want to grow old with the love of my life as we enjoy everything we’ve built together.
I don’t realize I’m crying until a hot tear falls on my hand. I rub the stray tears from my cheeks with the back of my fingers, careful not to ruin my makeup.
“You must be the infamous Maggie,” a soft feminine voice says, and I spin around to see a blonde, blue-eyed woman in a bright red dress. She’s beautiful in her form-fitted gown, her breasts pushed together, nearly spilling out, and her fingernails painted to match.
“Yes… I’m Maggie.” I extend my hand. “And what’s your name?”
“You haven’t heard about me?” The woman presses her lips into a pucker. “Consider me shocked.” She tosses her sandy curls over her shoulder. “I’m just the poor girl Sam tried to maul.”
Her words hit me like a freight train, and I’m taken aback.
A sly smile spreads over her lips at my reaction. “So, hedoesstill talk about me. It’s good to know he still feels guilty.” She holds her hand up underneath her eye directing me to the faint vertical scar than spans from her cheek to her eyebrow. It’s so faded and covered in makeup that I don’t think I would’ve noticed it if she hadn’t pointed it out.
