Page 22 of Worth Every Moment
“Sure.” I follow her through the crowd, searching for my brothers. Or Kate. Or Aries, Matt’s fiancée. They should be here somewhere.
Harriet pauses before a huge nude of a woman sprawled on a bed, and I stand beside her sipping my drink.
“Do you buy art?” she asks.
“Sometimes.”
She tilts her head at the enormous nude. “Would you buy this?”
I snort. “No. I see enough naked women in my life without needing paintings of them too.”
Harriet frowns. “Oh.”
Fuck, that was a dumbass thing to say. I’m completely at odds tonight. This is the first date I’ve been on since Erica threw me out. The same day I had my hands on her ankle. My dreams have been haunted by it. I wake in the morning trying to recover from the feel of Erica’s skin under my hands, the feel of her body in my arms. She never kisses me in the dreams. I always try, but she never concedes.My subconscious is primed for rejection.
“Ladies and Gentlemen.” A voice booms through the loudspeaker, and I turn to see the head of the gallery at a podium at the far end. “Welcome to our sponsors’ drinks evening. Weare so thankful to all of you, whose contribution to the running of this gallery cannot be overstated. We, and our artists, are indebted to you all. We wouldn’t be here without you.” Applause ripples through the building, and when it settles, he adds. “I’m here all evening, should you wish to revise your level of support.”
The man smiles broadly and laughter filters through the foyer as he steps down.
A ruckus by the door draws my attention, and every part of me surges with electricity before I even turn to look.It’s her.I know it.I concentrate on the champagne glass in my hand, the taste of the bubbles on my tongue, and Harriet at my side.
I can’t stop myself from glancing over; the way Erica draws my attention is like an addiction.I need a fix.She’s walking in on the arm of that damn designer. Dominic DeLacey. He’s all puffed up, chest swelling as he greets people either side of him, acknowledging everyone who’s making way for them to come inside. The arsehole probably thinks they’re looking at him, but they aren’t. They’re looking at Erica.
Because,fuck me, if she isn’t the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen. An emerald green silk dress cascades down her body to the floor, and her long dark hair curls over one shoulder. The dress leaves little to the imagination. It clings in all the right places… places I’d very much like to put my hands.
“She’s so beautiful,” Harriet murmurs, eyeing Erica with almost as much appreciation as I am. And that pisses me off because I don’t want to be in the same situation as Harriet. I don’t want to be swooning over Erica from afar, with no chance of getting close. I want to stake a claim on her. I’m not some random guy in a tux. I’msomethingto her, aren’t I? I count, don’t I?
The emotions dancing through me are confusing and unpleasant. I’m not enjoying this version of myself at all. I’m notused to wanting things I can’t have. Other people might have to look on from afar, but not fucking me.
And yet here I am, an onlooker on Erica’s glamorous life. An outsider. When really all I want to be is inside.
Balls deep inside.
I tip back the rest of my champagne and slam the glass down on a passing waitress’s tray. Her eyes widen and she pauses to steady the glasses.
“Sorry,” I murmur. I grab Harriet’s hand and haul her away. “Let’s find the canapes.”
If I can’t have Erica, maybe not being able to see her is the next best thing.
The next couple of hours pass with Harriet commenting on art, and me pretending to pay attention to her. I’ve introduced her to Nico and Kate, and Matt and Aries. For a while, they were all waiting for me to tie the knot with someone so I could join the happy-couple club, but that’s not going to happen. They’ve stopped asking ‘Is this the one?’ when I introduce them to anyone because it never lasts longer than milk left out of the fridge.
Harriet is definitely notthe one. But that never felt like it mattered before because the only one I wanted was off-limits, and it was easier to date other people than face the fact that Erica was never going to be mine.
But now, having Harriet dangling off my arm while Erica is on the other side of the room and we aren’t speaking, it matters. Inviting a date and hoping Erica might notice, or, better yet, be jealous, is downright dirty and manipulative. And I don’t want to be that guy.
Besides, Erica probably wouldn’t even care.Fuck it. I’m tired of pretending that she isn’t the only one I want, that I’m unmoved, that my sex life is progressing as normal when really it’s ground to a fucking halt because she’s not talking to me andthe health of my friendship with her has far more influence over my life than I’d previously acknowledged.
I need to get things back on track with her.
A man’s raised voice filters through the party. It’s out of keeping with the happy chatter that preceded it. I’m immediately alert. I turn to see that damn designer making a scene, yelling at someone out of sight. My first thought isErica.
“Excuse me,” I say to Harriet, “but there’s someone I need to check on.” Her eyes widen, silently begging an explanation, and I restrain the urge to rush off. “I wouldn’t leave if I didn’t think my friend was in trouble.”
She nods. “That’s okay. I’ll wait here.”
I clench a fist, hidden at my side. She deserves the truth, so I give it her. “You don’t have to wait. I’ve brought you here under false pretenses. I’m not available for a relationship of any kind. I’m so sorry. You deserved better than this.” I bow my head, wishing I hadn't vomited the words like I'd been struggling to hold them in all night.
“Oh, Seb. I—”
