Page 59 of Love Out Loud

Chapter Twenty-Four

Fiona fidgeted in her chair at the round, linen-draped table. Jane had loaned her a gorgeous beaded black evening gown and had taken her to the salon for an up-do and a mani/pedi. Even looking her best, she felt like a sack of dog poop.

She’d expected to be nervous to the point of nausea, but instead, she just felt sad. She’d practiced the speech using all of the techniques Jake had taught her, and she knew it so well, it was a part of her now. Sadly, he was a part of her now, too, coaching her in his voice inside her head during the day. Touching her body in her dreams at night.

The anger she’d felt at his apartment had been replaced with a dull, empty ache that seemed to bleed into every aspect of her life. Even the animals she treated didn’t bring as much joy. Charise, the gorgeous woman from his office, had texted her, which was weird. She’d told her that the idea for the article was her fault and that Jake jumped on it simply out of desperation. It didn’t matter, though—he had made the decision thinking only of himself.

Charise also had said Jake wasn’t doing so great. A week ago, knowing he was miserable would have been gratifying. Now, it only compounded her own misery. She hadn’t corresponded with the woman other than the simple response, “Thanks for letting me know.”

Fiona took a deep breath and studied the flower arrangement in the center of the table while the emcee of the awards ceremony blathered on. Claire Anderson was on the opposite side from her, blocked, mercifully, by the huge centerpiece. When they’d been introduced before the ceremony began, the woman had gone on and on, extoling the virtues and talents of Jacob Ward. It was like his own personal infomercial. The most pathetic part was that Claire had been right about Jacob, and Fiona found herself agreeing, much to the woman’s delight.

Next to her, Jane fiddled with her diamond bracelet. Like Claire, she’d been full of compliments for Jacob Ward, repeating all the good things she’d heard about him. Almost like he’d put them up to it, but that was impossible. He’d never even met Jane.

Fiona shifted again, and Jane leaned close. “You don’t have to give the speech, Fee,” she said. “I’ll do it.”

Not long ago, she’d have jumped on that like a kitten on yarn, but now, she knew that wasn’t an option. She needed to give this speech. Hell, part of herwantedto give the speech.

What she’d discovered was that Jacob had been right in some regards in that article she’d skimmed. She was uncomfortable in forced social settings but would sometimes use that shyness as a cloak to protect herself from situations exactly like this one. She didn’t like giving speeches, so she didn’t, and she used her social anxiety as justification.

She’d always been shy, but she’d never let it hold her back with something that really mattered. Like being a vet, which sometimes forced social interaction. She’d found a work-around with everything that was important to her.

Well, now, this speech was important to her.

Jane elbowed her in the ribs, and she pulled her brain back to the moment. The emcee was talking about Animal Attraction and specifically her work with pets of the homeless. It was almost time.

For some reason, she felt compelled to check out the room—something she would never ordinarily do, as it compounded her discomfort with crowds. Deep inside, she knew she was looking for him. Hoping he was there.

Which made absolutely no logical sense. She shouldn’t want to see him. Ever.

“So, we are pleased to present this award to Dr. Fiona Nichol of Animal Attraction.”

Fiona took a deep breath, and Jane squeezed her hand. “You sure?” she whispered under her breath. “I’ll do it.”

“I’m sure.” Fiona rose to her feet as the attendees applauded. As she strode to the podium, she tuned out the clapping and focused on breathing.Breathe in four counts, hold seven, exhale eight.She could do this.

She stood behind the podium and again found herself looking for Jake’s familiar face, but she only saw a sea of strangers. She had not brought a paper version of her speech, as she shook when nervous and it only made things worse. Instead, she closed her eyes and imagined the pizza-stained pages of the draft Jake had given her in the break room what felt like years ago and found herself relaxing.

She leaned close to the microphone. “Thank you,” she said, and the microphone made a horrifying, high-pitched squeal.

So much for relaxing. She glanced at Jane, who was clutching the edge of the table like it was a life raft. That didn’t help, either.

Closing her eyes, she imagined the pages, then pictured her little dogs. This time she didn’t lean as close to the microphone, and mercifully it didn’t screech. “Very few things worth doing are easy,” she started, “and worthy accomplishments are rarely the result of a single person’s actions.” Picturing Daisy and Otto wasn’t working. Her skin had become itchy, and her ears had begun to ring.

She shifted her mind’s eye to her stuffed bear from childhood. That had helped during book reports in grade school. She’d placed him in the back of the classroom and delivered her reports directly to Beau-Beau.

“I am honored to accept this award, and even though I am the only one standing at this microphone tonight, there are many other people who made this project possible.” She could hear the tremor in her own voice as she listed off the names of people involved with her project. Beau-Beau had failed her, dammit.

She paused a moment, placed her hands flat on the podium, like she had done so often on Jake’s chest, and pictured his face. Seeing him, even in her head, still hurt, but it also reminded her of how he’d helped, sometimes with just his presence. It was a last resort to deliberately think about the person who’d made public speaking possible for her…and then broke her heart. But it was working.

As she delivered more of the speech, her voice grew stronger. She even ventured a glance at Jane, who was beaming with pride. That just buoyed her confidence even more. The words flowed out of her as easily as they had in the restaurant with Jake that night, and before she knew it, she’d entered the final stretch of the speech.

“When I was preparing this speech, a, uh…” What was Jake to her back then? “A dear friend asked me why I do this work. And the answer is I do it because people and animals should not be discarded like garbage—like the little puppy, Brutus, that I mentioned earlier was. Like my dogs Otto and Daisy were.”

Sort of like Jake had been when she’d slammed the door in his face at his own apartment. She hadn’t even given him a chance to speak. She’d slammed the door and discarded him. She’d been rash and wrong.

Focusing on the finish line, she drew a deep breath. “Why do I do it? How could I not?”

The applause was immediate, and so was her relief. After a moment, she was steady enough to look up. At the very back of the room, movement caught her eye. It was dark, and she didn’t see the man’s face, but she was close to certain that Jacob Ward had been leaving through the far-left door to the lobby.

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