Page 11 of Taken By the Ex-Boyfriend

Chapter Five

Carol

I’mprettysuretheweather is confused. Mid-June is supposed to be warm and sunny, but it’s been anything but that.

The party starts in a few minutes, but no one ever gets there on time, so I’m not in much of a hurry. I check my dress once more, undecided about my choice. It’s blue—my favorite color—and I think it matches my eyes nicely. It’s shorter than what I usually go for, but it hugs my body in all the right places, showing off my waist without being tight. The halter neckline crisscrosses over my chest, leaving my back uncovered. I planned to have my hair in an updo, but I went for loose waves instead, mostly to avoid bringing a jacket with me.

This is my last chance to pick up a date for the wedding. If I don’t—well, I can always hire someone. I shudder at the thought of someone completely unknown touching me, but it’s better than showing up there alone.

Rose has been spamming my phone with messages about Brian, trying to convince me to agree with her absurd plan. That makes me shudder even more.

The problem is that I don’t think an ex can fix a problem about another ex, not to mention that I hate both of them right now. And I didn’t spend all this time working on myself to be petty—okay, I am being petty this time, but it’s a special occasion. I can’t make a habit out of it.

Focus on the goal, Carol. And the goal is simple: find or hire someone for that role. No feelings should be involved.

My reflection smiles back at me, and I instinctively reach out to the mirror, offering a hand of support to myself. There’s no reason to worry or stress about the date. I should just have fun with it, or as Rose says, attract it.

I apply some more lipstick—my lip biting has removed all but the liner—and take a step back to check the end results. I look good. More than good, actually. My good mood and boosted confidence are lifted even more once I arrive at the hotel. Rose and Dennis are on their way but there are plenty of other people here already.

The birthday girl, Vanessa, is turning 30 and wanted to fight the terrible insinuations about the start of a new decade with a huge party. Working at a global firm has perks too—you meet bright people like her.

The party matches her personality perfectly. The venue is on the roof of a five-star hotel—it’s the first time I’ve had to pass through security to go to a party—and it’s decorated from top to bottom with flowers. Orchids, calla lilies, hyacinths, tulips, and others that I’m not sure I’ve ever seen before.

But it’s not the intricate flower patterns or the bright colors that grab my attention. It’s the smell. Jasmine mostly, and something citrusy. It takes me a minute to spot those—they are intertwined in the latticework that covers the entire east side.

A waiter presents me with a neon green drink. Lime, sugar, and alcohol. Perhaps some other fruit, although I can’t be sure.

I look around to see if I can spot anyone interesting. Most people are in groups and any familiar faces are either in a relationship or I’ve already crossed them off my list.

Slowly, I walk among the crowd, greeting and chatting, making my way to the other side. There’s nothing really interesting except maybe for a guy who is standing near the latticework. He’s talking to Vanessa who bursts out laughing. They are standing close to each other when she catches me staring. She winks at me and then gives him a pat on his shoulder, before moving to another guest.

So, not taken? Vanessa knows of my plan, and I’m pretty sure that was a hint. Why am I overthinking this? His back looks good and I’m sure that his front will be just as impressive. I march toward him, drink in hand, making a list of conversation starters.

And then he turns around, and it feels like something hard has hit me right in the chest. My knees go weak, forcing me to stop in my tracks, and my eyes feel like they will pop out any minute now.

Brian doesn’t seem surprised to see me. At all. Pleased, yes. Lustful, definitely. Even at this distance, I can hear the sound of his breath, like a low growl, which sends me back in time. I want to reach out and touch him, my body completely forgetting the way he treated me.

He’s wearing slacks and a white dress shirt, the first three buttons undone, revealing just a tiny bit of chest hair. His short, dark curls are tamed but even when slicked back, a slight wave is visible. My fingers also remembered his hair. How many hours have they spent running through those curls?

I bite my lips and bring my drink to my chest like a shield while Brian’s gaze travels down from my eyes to my lips, and I see his twitch too. Then his gaze moves further down, from the fabric around my neck, and lower, to my breasts. It lingers there for a minute and then moves down to my legs, and back up.

I should move. I should leave. Anything but stay here frozen.

Six years. Gone for six damn years.

My desire for escape is muted once he closes the distance between us.

Broken promises.

He sighs but doesn’t speak immediately. And when he does, it’s just my name.

Discarded by text message.

He raises his hand to my face, moving a strand of hair to the side.

Married another.

I struggle to list why I hate him so much, but slowly the anger is coming back. A deep breath helps fight back the tears.

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