Page 33 of Since Always

He stands to take a picture with the guy, and then the guy's two friends who come over behind him. Realizing someone famous is in their midst, the surrounding tables take stock of Owen. They look at me, trying to figure out if I, too, am someone. I know the moment for our conversation has now passed. Owen has lost any anonymity he was enjoying, and Chris will be back soon. He knows it too, and in between pictures he glances down at me, an apologetic expression on his face. I shrug.

I take a long drink, finishing my beer. I'm not naïve, or stupid and I know what a risk being with me would be for him. I won't ask something of him that could cause him to lose everything he's worked so hard for. And I'm also not going to beg someone to be with me. Cassidy of two years ago—the Cassidy who was lost and drowning in grief—that girl would have. She would have thrown herself on him and clung to him like a life raft. But I'm no longer the girl I once was, and now I want more; even if more means letting go of the possibility of being with him.

"You're so lucky," a girl standing over our table says down to me.

I can't even see Owen through the people crowding around him to get pictures.

"Excuse me?"

"You're here with him?" She gestures. "He's the most beautiful man on the planet. How do you know him?"

"We're old family friends," I say, and I know it's true. That, when you boil it down, we can say what we want to say and feel how we feel, but my role in his life will always be what it has always been—his friend. I have to accept that, and actually move on.

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CHAPTER 10

Owen

I end up getting pulled into several conversations around the bar. Some with people who are excited to meet me, and some with people wanting to complain about something I've done. Mostly, though, its groups of college kids wanting selfies. I have learned a lot of things since becoming a Senator, and one of those is that I am now the King of selfie expressions. Chris comes back to the table before I can make my way back to Cass, and it kills me how we have left the conversation. I need her to understand what is at stake. I remind myself how young she is, and what it felt like to be young, idealistic, and believe everything could work out.

I know better now. I became a pessimist about love and happy endings the day that Kaitlyn wrapped her car around a tree. And I see this all clearly, even if my thoughts get hazy sometimes. I know if I walked down that path, I would lose my best friend of almost thirty years. I would lose this family that I love and disappoint my parents. And I know how voters think.

When it comes down to it, the optics of a 37-year-old man with a 22-year-old woman are bad. Especially since I have known her for her whole life. The details don't matter—details and minutiae are irrelevant for websites that survive on clickbait. All they need is a sensational headline. I can imagine the field day the bastards across the aisle would have with that information. No weapon in a campaign is quite as effective as a sex scandal. Mark Reynolds would cream in his pants; he would be so excited to hear of my perceived shortcomings.

And, if all that wasn't enough, there's Cass to consider. Which is the thing stopping me more than anything. I can't ruin what we are and what we have. I can't risk my friendship with her for something that could amount to a fling or fleeting emotions. And the thought of hurting her makes me feel sick.

We continue the next couple of hours on the patio, as though the conversation never happened; something it seems we are getting good at doing. She smiles and laughs at my jokes, and we gang up to tease Chris together. When Cass says she needs to head back to the house to get ready for the night, I offer to walk her out.

We don't say a word on the way.

"Bye, O," she says quickly, as she climbs inside the car she has called. I know as much as I don't want to hurt her, the look on her face tells me I already have.

"I wish it was different," I say, just as she closes the door, needing her to understand where I stand.

The car pulls away and I head back into the bar when my phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out.

Cass: Me too, friend.

The Sloanes, myself included as an honorary member, are always all required to be downstairs at 7:00pm to greet the New Year's Eve party's first guests. A group of fifty of the family's nearest and dearest will be the first to arrive. We will make our way to a dining area for an incredible five-course meal, created every year by one of a handful of Michelin-rated chefs. The rest of the guests, around 300 in total, will start arriving at 10:00 pm. The party will go hard into the early hours of New Year's Day.

I head outside to where the bar area is set up, the warmth from outdoor heaters making it feel hotter outside than in. Jessica and Chris are standing in front of the constructed bar.

"Can I grab one too?" I ask the bartender, who is filling wine glasses. I turn to my friends.

"Jessica, you look stunning." I kiss her on the cheek and pull back to admire her long champagne-colored dress. I'm not just saying it. Cassidy gets her looks from her mother.

"What about me?" Chris says, puffing out his tuxedo jacket.

I turn around and pinch him on the cheek. "You look handsome." He grins.

"And what about me?" A soft voice says from the doorway and I take a deep breath to brace myself before I look.

"Oh, hon, you look incredible," Jessica says to Cassidy. It is an understatement. Cassidy is wearing a deep burgundy strapless dress with her hair swept up, exposing the long lines of her neck. The dress is corset-like on the top, causing her breasts to spill out to the point of being dangerous. As it trails down her body, it hugs every single one of her curves until it flares out at the bottom. I am not sure I have ever seen anything as beautiful.

"You look okay," I say with a smile and a wink. I turn away, grabbing my wine and thanking the bartender, as Cassidy and her mother gush over their dresses.

This is going to be a long night.

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