Page 136 of Worth Every Moment
Erica drags her gaze from mine, and the connection breaks with a chill that freezes my core. She turns her gorgeous smile on people nearby, chatting and laughing with Michael and their fans as they sign the last few autographs and move as one up the steps towards me and Diana.
“What do you want to do?” Diana whispers.
They approach in slow motion and my heart rate decelerates to match, thumping a slow toll as Erica passes right by. I catch her perfume on the breeze.Infinity.Love that lasts forever. Passion across lifetimes. Desire that can never be exhausted.
As Erica and Michael enter the hotel together, the hope that had so briefly flickered to life starts to die.
I’m too late.
48
ERICA
As I pass through the doors of the Hawkston Mayfair, there’s a tugging in my chest; a tearing pain, as though I’ve left my heart outside the doors in Seb Hawkston’s hands.
My knees feel weak and pinpricks skim my skin.I can’t do this.
He was not supposed to be here tonight, and he’s here withher. The way he froze, unmoving, holding my gaze like a lifeline, tugged on my heart, and not in a good way. I need to sit down, lean against the wall,anythingother than keep walking across the lobby as if nothing happened. There’s a buzz inside my skull; every memory of Seb has reignited, and his voice hums through my mind with a million previous conversations.
You’re the other half of my soul.
“That was awkward,” Michael murmurs, and it doesn’t surprise me that he knows.Everyone knows.“He could at least have said hello.”
“I didn’t.”
He doesn’t stop, eyes focused on the entrance to the restaurant, where our table is waiting. He offers me the barest glance. “Didn’t what?”
“Say hello. I didn’t say hello either.”
Michael frowns, then his brow smoothes as he looks around. “Busy in here tonight,” he says, indicating the reams of people leaving the ballroom in their evening wear. His lack of concern for me and what I might be experiencing reminds me how stupid and shallow this date is. The casual way he can shrug off the encounter with Seb is another wound, albeit struck without intention. He’s already forgotten about it because seeing Seb didn’t shift his world off its axis the way it did mine.
I’m alone in this agony.
I shouldn’t have agreed to this date. I’m not ready, on any level, to be out with someone else. I don’t want to be. I only agreed because Amy suggested it, and I know it makes sense for the movie and my future as an actress. But the sight of Seb lifting Diana off her feet, swinging her around as though they had some real, genuine connection, caused a riot in my stomach.
I might throw up.
But I don’t. I stick on a fake smile and follow Michael to the restaurant because he’s one of the most influential actors in Hollywood, and if I can’t have Seb, I will damn well have this career.
I will not fall apart. I refuse to fall apart.
My heart is thundering like it means to shatter my ribs. If I were to throw up, it might dislodge from my chest and spew itself out onto the restaurant floor with the remains of my last meal. In a daze, I follow Michael to our table, my legs shaky and my hands trembling as I take my seat.
The sound is muted in the restaurant. Conversations are quiet and respectful, whispered amidst the gentle clink of cutlery on fine porcelain crockery, but I’m hardly aware of any of it because Seb has taken up residence in my mind, occupying every available space.
Reminding myself to slow my rapid breathing, I focus on Michael sitting opposite me. “Let’s have some red,” he declares, perusing the wine list. Before I can respond, he summons the sommelier and orders a bottle of red, which arrives promptly, and once Michael has tasted and approved it, the sommelier fills a glass for both of us.
I don’t drink—haven’t touched the stuff since the wedding—and he didn’t even ask.
I’m about to tell him, but his gaze rises to something behind me. Every vain hope fills my lungs and I can’t draw in a scrap of air. Please, let it be Seb.
“Lefroy.”
Oh, God.Even though I wanted him, Seb’s voice has a panicky heat unfurling through my chest.He’s behind me, and if I turn, I could see him. Touch him. Speak to him.
Michael flashes a sleazy grin as he leans back in his chair, gaze fixed over my head. “Well, as I live and breathe. The man himself. Seb Hawkston.”
“I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” Seb says, and I finally turn towards him, needing to know if he’s talking to me, but his gaze is fixed on Michael.
