“Grace!” I screech.
Beside me, George grins. “I’d be happy to guard the door. From the inside, of course. Better security that way.”
“You’re so selfless,” I mutter.
“That’s what all my dates say.”
“Who’s the hottie?” Grace asks.
“George, this is my co-worker, Grace. Grace, meet George.”
He takes her hand, but gives me a sideways glance when Grace holds on too long and molests him with her eyes.
“I approve,” she says with a nod. “Let me get you two a drink. It’s an open bar. Wine for the lady, beer for the man?” She saunters off without waiting for our reply.
George pulls out my chair for me, then takes the spot beside mine. The ballroom is a veritable who’s who of Indiana money and politics. Everyone looks amazing, decked out in sleek formal gowns and custom-cut tuxedos.
When Grace returns, she settles a large glass of red wine in front of me and a pint in front of George before taking the free seat beside me.
“Oh my God.” She points across the room. “Look, it’s Mr. Bradshaw. Check him out. Now I see where his son gets his good looks.”
I would rather eat week-old gas station sushi than check out Mr. Bradshaw, but I force a smile and slide a cursory glance in his direction. “Not my type.”
I scan the room and my eyes snag on Sam and Sabrina at a table near the stage. They’re talking to an Indiana senator, big smiles on both their faces. Sabrina leans into Sam, and he keeps his arm wrapped around her shoulders in a way that’s almost more brotherly than intimate.
In your dreams, I remind myself. But ever since the video was leaked, something’s been niggling at me. Maybe it’s just that he didn’t seem interested in her at all last winter, but I feel as if there’s more. My gut tells me I’m missing something.
Too bad the last year has cost me all the confidence I have in my gut. I should know by now that where other people have a gut, I have wishful thinking. Why else would I have been so sure Sam was River?
“Earth to Liz,” Grace says. “Try not to be so obvious with the man-lust, ’kay? You might hurt your date’s feelings.”
I look to George, who’s watching me with eyes that look more worried than jealous.
“Sorry,” I say.
He shakes his head. “You never did tell me how you knew him.”
I paste on a smile. “I told you he’s an old friend.”
He takes the wine from in front of me and drains half of it. “Right.”
“Did I tell you about the time I dated twin brothers at the same time?” Grace asks.
George and I let Grace entertain us with her wild stories through dinner. I manage a few bites, but my heart’s not in it tonight. After the plates are cleared and dessert is served, Sabrina gets on stage, and everyone quiets for her speech.
“You all probably feel as if you’ve been seeing too much of me lately,” she begins, and the crowd laughs.
George is watching me, so I force a smile and give Sabrina my attention. After apologizing that her private life has detracted from her mother’s campaign, she introduces Sam, who stands at their table and lifts a hand in greeting to the crowd.
“I love that guy,” she says with a grin. “Best thing that ever happened to me.”
He winks at her. When my heart is all but torn from my chest, she finally begins talking about her mom’s vision for her presidency, and I breathe again.
Sabrina finishes her speech and invites everyone to the dance floor. As she leaves the stage, Sam takes her hand and leads her to the dance floor, and I feel like they have my heart out there with them, right under their feet, and I’m just sitting here hollow inside.
“Go on, you two,” Grace says. “The campaign needs you to go out there and look beautiful.”
“May I have a dance?” George asks.
I don’t want to be that close to America’s sweethearts over there, but I am the one who asked George to come with me tonight. “That would be nice.”
He offers his hand and we make our way to the dance floor.
Sam and Sabrina are already dancing. They look beautiful together. They’re on the opposite side of the dance floor, and she smiles up at him as he leads her. Every so often she leans her head against his chest, and the gesture is so intimate that something inside of me cracks at the sight.
“Have I mentioned how beautiful you look tonight?” George whispers in my ear.
I startle and tear my eyes away from the couple of the night so I can look at my date. “Thank you. You look handsome too.”
He cocks a brow. “Well, thanks. I wasn’t aware you’d actually looked at anyone but him.”
I follow his gaze back to Sam and force a laugh. “Am I staring? After that video, I think everyone is curious about those two. I hope I’m not being rude, but I have a weakness for gossip magazines.”
He wrinkles his brow. “Yeah? I don’t know you very well, but I wouldn’t have pegged you for the gossip magazine type.”
“Guilty pleasure.”
“Liz, you don’t look at him like you’re curious. You look at him like you’re heartbroken.”
My stomach flutters nervously. “Don’t be silly.”
His arms are warm and sure as they fold me into his chest. A year ago, before I fell hard for Sam, a guy like George was exactly what I thought I wanted—nice, successful, attractive. But tonight my heart belongs to someone else.
Beside me, George grins. “I’d be happy to guard the door. From the inside, of course. Better security that way.”
“You’re so selfless,” I mutter.
“That’s what all my dates say.”
“Who’s the hottie?” Grace asks.
“George, this is my co-worker, Grace. Grace, meet George.”
He takes her hand, but gives me a sideways glance when Grace holds on too long and molests him with her eyes.
“I approve,” she says with a nod. “Let me get you two a drink. It’s an open bar. Wine for the lady, beer for the man?” She saunters off without waiting for our reply.
George pulls out my chair for me, then takes the spot beside mine. The ballroom is a veritable who’s who of Indiana money and politics. Everyone looks amazing, decked out in sleek formal gowns and custom-cut tuxedos.
When Grace returns, she settles a large glass of red wine in front of me and a pint in front of George before taking the free seat beside me.
“Oh my God.” She points across the room. “Look, it’s Mr. Bradshaw. Check him out. Now I see where his son gets his good looks.”
I would rather eat week-old gas station sushi than check out Mr. Bradshaw, but I force a smile and slide a cursory glance in his direction. “Not my type.”
I scan the room and my eyes snag on Sam and Sabrina at a table near the stage. They’re talking to an Indiana senator, big smiles on both their faces. Sabrina leans into Sam, and he keeps his arm wrapped around her shoulders in a way that’s almost more brotherly than intimate.
In your dreams, I remind myself. But ever since the video was leaked, something’s been niggling at me. Maybe it’s just that he didn’t seem interested in her at all last winter, but I feel as if there’s more. My gut tells me I’m missing something.
Too bad the last year has cost me all the confidence I have in my gut. I should know by now that where other people have a gut, I have wishful thinking. Why else would I have been so sure Sam was River?
“Earth to Liz,” Grace says. “Try not to be so obvious with the man-lust, ’kay? You might hurt your date’s feelings.”
I look to George, who’s watching me with eyes that look more worried than jealous.
“Sorry,” I say.
He shakes his head. “You never did tell me how you knew him.”
I paste on a smile. “I told you he’s an old friend.”
He takes the wine from in front of me and drains half of it. “Right.”
“Did I tell you about the time I dated twin brothers at the same time?” Grace asks.
George and I let Grace entertain us with her wild stories through dinner. I manage a few bites, but my heart’s not in it tonight. After the plates are cleared and dessert is served, Sabrina gets on stage, and everyone quiets for her speech.
“You all probably feel as if you’ve been seeing too much of me lately,” she begins, and the crowd laughs.
George is watching me, so I force a smile and give Sabrina my attention. After apologizing that her private life has detracted from her mother’s campaign, she introduces Sam, who stands at their table and lifts a hand in greeting to the crowd.
“I love that guy,” she says with a grin. “Best thing that ever happened to me.”
He winks at her. When my heart is all but torn from my chest, she finally begins talking about her mom’s vision for her presidency, and I breathe again.
Sabrina finishes her speech and invites everyone to the dance floor. As she leaves the stage, Sam takes her hand and leads her to the dance floor, and I feel like they have my heart out there with them, right under their feet, and I’m just sitting here hollow inside.
“Go on, you two,” Grace says. “The campaign needs you to go out there and look beautiful.”
“May I have a dance?” George asks.
I don’t want to be that close to America’s sweethearts over there, but I am the one who asked George to come with me tonight. “That would be nice.”
He offers his hand and we make our way to the dance floor.
Sam and Sabrina are already dancing. They look beautiful together. They’re on the opposite side of the dance floor, and she smiles up at him as he leads her. Every so often she leans her head against his chest, and the gesture is so intimate that something inside of me cracks at the sight.
“Have I mentioned how beautiful you look tonight?” George whispers in my ear.
I startle and tear my eyes away from the couple of the night so I can look at my date. “Thank you. You look handsome too.”
He cocks a brow. “Well, thanks. I wasn’t aware you’d actually looked at anyone but him.”
I follow his gaze back to Sam and force a laugh. “Am I staring? After that video, I think everyone is curious about those two. I hope I’m not being rude, but I have a weakness for gossip magazines.”
He wrinkles his brow. “Yeah? I don’t know you very well, but I wouldn’t have pegged you for the gossip magazine type.”
“Guilty pleasure.”
“Liz, you don’t look at him like you’re curious. You look at him like you’re heartbroken.”
My stomach flutters nervously. “Don’t be silly.”
His arms are warm and sure as they fold me into his chest. A year ago, before I fell hard for Sam, a guy like George was exactly what I thought I wanted—nice, successful, attractive. But tonight my heart belongs to someone else.
