Page 93 of The Checklist
“Holy shit. I’m not ready for all this. Maybe I can hide until it’s over?” Dylan whispered, trying to smooth the bodice lines in her dress.
“Wait. You managed to re-up his entire party, and now you are too scared to take credit for it?” Stacy asked, sucking noisy air through her teeth.
“Pretty much. I was so mean. And I flaked. It was way worse than what I did to you, trust me.”
“Is he still looking?”
“I don’t know,” Dylan said, consciously keeping her eyes away from the door.
“Well, I can’t turn and look. That’s too obvious. Do a casual laugh and glance or something.”
“That sounds silly.”
“Thisissilly,” Stacy said, rolling her eyes. “Just do it.”
The sound Dylan forced out of her throat was more like the mangled chuckle of a children’s movie villain than a laugh as she pushed the glamour wave out of her face while looking at the door.
Mike was saying his goodbyes to the two elegant women. Straightening up, he looked directly at her and began walking toward them, occasionally waving at a few guests as he crossed the room.
“He is coming.” Panic tinged Dylan’s attempt at a whisper.
Stacy grinned. “I can get the details later. You’re gonna need a little liquid courage for that one. Drink up.”
“Don’t leave me,” Dylan said, reaching for Stacy’s arm as she turned to go.
“I have to get me one of those,” she said, dodging her friend’s grasp and pointing to Dylan’s drink. “And look, the family is here. I’m just gonna say hi.”
“You are the worst,” Dylan hissed as her friend trotted away.
“Don’t I know it. Luck,” Stacy called over her shoulder, waving at Dylan’s parents, Neale, and the Robinsons.
Dylan risked a fleeting glance over at Mike, who had been momentarily sidetracked by another guest. Weighing her options, she decided she would rather face the uncomfortable truth head-on than wait for it to come to her. After all, Stacy was right. She had done all of this for him, and whether or not he forgave her, she could leave here with her head high, knowing she’d made good on her word.
Pulling her shoulders back and her chin up, she grabbed the hem of her dress with one hand and her champagne with the other, making her way toward him. Mike nodded to the guest and turned, his expression inscrutable as he righted himself. Dylan’s heart completed a backflip that would have landed her full marks at a gymnastics competition.
“What are you doing here?” an angry voice cawed in her left ear, causing her to choke on a fortifying sip of champagne. Whipping her head away from the hot sound, she staggered back before turning to face the speaker.
Jared stood in front of her, his stocky frame humming with rage. If Dylan hadn’t been so shocked by his unexpected appearance, she would have found the sweat running down his faux tan funny. As it was, seeinghis Coppertone failure wasn’t exactly the good time she had planned for the evening.
“Excuse me?” Dylan said, attempting to regain her composure.
“You were fired. Now you are wandering around Kaplan’s party. Leave.”
“It’s technically Crescent’s party.”
“Bullshit.”
“What’s bullshit is you firing me from a contract you couldn’t fire me from,” Dylan said, surprised by her own directness. Casting a glance over her shoulder, she saw Mike stop walking toward her, his head cocked to one side as he watched Jared rock forward on his heels.
“That,” Jared sputtered, “is not true.”
“That is not what Steve said when I went in to clean out my office.”
“I don’t know who this Steve is, but if you aren’t out of here in ten seconds, I’ll get security.”
“What are you doing here?” Dylan said, ignoring the threat.
“I was personally invited by John Kaplan.” Jared puffed up at the mention of the company chairman’s name. “God forbid he see you. I’m going to do you a favor. Salvage your career and get the hell out of here before he realizes—”
