The Fortunate Ones
Page 55
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The other women in the group nod emphatically, clearly all t-shirt-wearing members of Team James and Lacy—Team Jamy, or maybe Team Lames. I prefer the latter.
Then Ellie speaks up. “If you ask me, I don’t think he’s all that into her.”
All eyes in the group whip to her in shock. Clearly, very few people have had the audacity to speak out against Lacy.
“Why do you say that?” Martha asks, sounding truly troubled by the idea.
Ellie grins and turns to me with a proud gleam in her eye. “Duh! Because he’s still in love with Brooke.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
James looks like The Bachelor right before a rose ceremony. There has been a constant stream of women grouped around him from the time Lacy led him away to get a drink until now. As soon as one woman manages to claim his attention, another one works up the courage to whisk him away. I watch the scene unfold from afar, sipping on my second flute of champagne and pretending to bid on silent auction items with Ellie.
“Do you think I should bid on this purse?” she asks, testing whether or not I’ve been listening to her.
I say yes without looking at it. I’m too busy narrowing my eyes as yet another woman in a clingy gown touches James’ arm and titters like a little schoolgirl. I recognize her. I’m pretty sure she’s a news reporter—yes, a local weather girl. Shouldn’t she be off chasing a storm or something?
“But the bidding is already up to $85,000,” Ellie points out.
“Oh, crazy,” I say, sounding about two percent interested.
The weathergirl inches closer and drapes her hand casually on his arm. In doing so, she manages to edge a few women out of the group, and I start to see red. Clearly James hasn’t been lacking for company since I left for Spain. If this is any indication of how he’s spent the last year and a half, I’m surprised he even still remembers my name.
“I’ve got a forecast for you: cloudy with a chance of skanks,” I mumble grumpily.
“What was that?” Ellie asks.
I turn my back to him. “Nothing.”
She smiles, clearly pleased with her role as firsthand witness to my outrage. “You should just go talk to him.”
“Oh okay, Ellie. What a good idea. Do you think I should just get in line behind the blonde? Or how about the curvy brunette that could balance a champagne glass on her ass à la Kim K?”
She wraps her arm around my shoulder and tugs me into her side. “I wasn’t kidding about what I said earlier. He still loves you. He asks me about you all the time.”
I jerk away in surprise. “What do you mean?”
She shrugs and continues down the line of auction items. “Every time our paths cross at Twin Oaks, he asks how you’re liking Spain, if you’ll be returning to the States any time soon, that sort of thing.”
This is news to me. I told Ellie I didn’t want any James updates, but this is different. This is something she should have told me!
“AND,” I stress. “What do you say?!”
She leans down and studies a diamond ring that is currently going for $74,000, staring intently like she’s actually going to bid on the thing.
“Ellie!”
She stands and waves away my obvious panic. “Oh, right. I tell him you’re loving life over there and you never want to come home.”
I straighten my shoulders. “Good. Yeah, that’s what you should tell him.”
“I even tell him about all the Spanish men you have after you.”
I reach out and grip her shoulders, spinning her around until she’s facing me. “Why would you say that?!”
Her blue eyes, a pair that match my own, are so large and vulnerable that for a second, I forget I’m supposed to be mad at her.
“Because it’s the truth,” she says defensively.
Still, she had no business telling him that. I just assumed that since she wasn’t giving me updates about James, she wasn’t giving him updates about me either. Clearly, I was wrong.
Her eyes narrow at a sight just behind me before she unravels a conspiratorial smile. “Come on, sis. I’m thirsty.”
We both have champagne, and I point that out as she drags me after her, but that doesn’t stop her from leading us to the bar where James is currently waiting in line. There are half a dozen other bars in the ballroom, two of which were in between where we stood at the silent auction and this one. To anyone watching, it’s obvious that we darted across to room to get in line behind him, but hopefully no one is studying our actions that closely. If they are, they probably also saw me pick some spinach out of my teeth using my phone’s camera five minutes ago.
James isn’t alone; Weathergirl still clings to his side like a low-pressure storm system. Lacy is probably seething with jealousy. Me, on the other hand? I’m busy coming up with more weather-based insults in my head.
“James,” Ellie says, tapping him on the shoulder and drawing his attention so he turns and finds us standing there. “So good to see you. I didn’t get the chance to say hi earlier before Lacy started ordering you around. Boy, she can be a real bear sometimes, right?”
With her tone, she makes it seem like it was a happy coincidence that we got in line behind him, but James is too smart for that. He drags his gaze from Ellie to me, and there’s an extra little spark of something that wasn’t there before. Anger? Annoyance?
“When did you return to Austin?”
Yeah, it’s anger. Definitely anger.
“A week ago.”
“And I assume it’s—”
“Temporary, yes.”
“And when do you leave?”
“In a few days.”
He nods in understanding. “Enjoy your trip.”
Then he turns and picks up his conversation with the weathergirl like I’m not even there. I’ve been dismissed.
OH OKAY. Good to see you for the first time in years too.
I should follow his lead and turn away, mind my own business and finish the gala on a high note. This is a conversation best done in private, but instead, I tap his shoulder and interrupt him midsentence.
“I’m sorry, but did I do something wrong?”
My tone isn’t so gentle now that he’s pissed me off.
His gaze spits fire when he replies, “Not a thing.”
The woman at his side wraps a possessive hand around his forearm, and I’ve had enough. I’m about to walk away, but then Ellie pushes me toward him.
“Brooke was actually just telling me she’d love to dance, and I’m sure you two have so much to catch up on.”
Dance?!
No.
While there is a dance floor, it’s currently occupied by only three couples, and each person is upwards of 80. They’re just sort of shuffling around while they lean on each other. James and I would stick out like sore thumbs.
He smiles tightly and extends his arm to encompass the room. “I’m sure there are plenty of men who would be more than willing to oblige.”
My cheeks flush with embarrassment. Not only did he turn me down, he did it in front of the weathergirl, and when she snickers and tries to hide it behind her hand, I’ve had enough for one night. Martha will have to understand. I’m leaving early.
I turn on my heel, prepared to beeline for the exit, but Ellie’s hand digs into my back and she pushes me toward him.
“Plenty of men, sure, but you’re the closest!”
Cupid had enough tact to use arrows in his matchmaking. Ellie, on the other hand, seems to have chosen a hatchet.
I’m not sure if I’m angrier with her for throwing me at James or with James for standing there, actually contemplating turning me down a second time. I narrow my eyes, daring him to do it. He meets my gaze head on, and a muscle in his jaw twitches as he tries to grind his teeth to dust. It feels like I’m winning even though his searing gaze is hot enough to burn through flesh.
Finally, with a heavy sigh, he grabs my hand and turns to lead me toward the dance floor, or at the very least, away from Ellie. For all I know, he could be on his way to depositing my body outside in the dumpster. I’m sure that’s what he’d like to do, though I have no clue why. When we last spoke in Austin, we left things on good terms. Our breakup was mutual and healthy—adult, even. Now he’s suddenly acting like some scorned lover. He’s holding my hand in a punishing grip I don’t particularly enjoy, so I tug hard to extract it, right in time to nearly trip into an ambitious waiter holding a massive tray of hors d’oeuvres. James’ hand settles around my waist as he gently pulls me against him, saving me and the poor server in the nick of time. I stiffen at the familiar warmth that radiates from his touch. He squeezes my waist and then quickly releases me, taking a step away as if he’s trying to put a healthy distance between us. I glance down at the offending hand in time to see him clench it into a tight fist.
Then Ellie speaks up. “If you ask me, I don’t think he’s all that into her.”
All eyes in the group whip to her in shock. Clearly, very few people have had the audacity to speak out against Lacy.
“Why do you say that?” Martha asks, sounding truly troubled by the idea.
Ellie grins and turns to me with a proud gleam in her eye. “Duh! Because he’s still in love with Brooke.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
James looks like The Bachelor right before a rose ceremony. There has been a constant stream of women grouped around him from the time Lacy led him away to get a drink until now. As soon as one woman manages to claim his attention, another one works up the courage to whisk him away. I watch the scene unfold from afar, sipping on my second flute of champagne and pretending to bid on silent auction items with Ellie.
“Do you think I should bid on this purse?” she asks, testing whether or not I’ve been listening to her.
I say yes without looking at it. I’m too busy narrowing my eyes as yet another woman in a clingy gown touches James’ arm and titters like a little schoolgirl. I recognize her. I’m pretty sure she’s a news reporter—yes, a local weather girl. Shouldn’t she be off chasing a storm or something?
“But the bidding is already up to $85,000,” Ellie points out.
“Oh, crazy,” I say, sounding about two percent interested.
The weathergirl inches closer and drapes her hand casually on his arm. In doing so, she manages to edge a few women out of the group, and I start to see red. Clearly James hasn’t been lacking for company since I left for Spain. If this is any indication of how he’s spent the last year and a half, I’m surprised he even still remembers my name.
“I’ve got a forecast for you: cloudy with a chance of skanks,” I mumble grumpily.
“What was that?” Ellie asks.
I turn my back to him. “Nothing.”
She smiles, clearly pleased with her role as firsthand witness to my outrage. “You should just go talk to him.”
“Oh okay, Ellie. What a good idea. Do you think I should just get in line behind the blonde? Or how about the curvy brunette that could balance a champagne glass on her ass à la Kim K?”
She wraps her arm around my shoulder and tugs me into her side. “I wasn’t kidding about what I said earlier. He still loves you. He asks me about you all the time.”
I jerk away in surprise. “What do you mean?”
She shrugs and continues down the line of auction items. “Every time our paths cross at Twin Oaks, he asks how you’re liking Spain, if you’ll be returning to the States any time soon, that sort of thing.”
This is news to me. I told Ellie I didn’t want any James updates, but this is different. This is something she should have told me!
“AND,” I stress. “What do you say?!”
She leans down and studies a diamond ring that is currently going for $74,000, staring intently like she’s actually going to bid on the thing.
“Ellie!”
She stands and waves away my obvious panic. “Oh, right. I tell him you’re loving life over there and you never want to come home.”
I straighten my shoulders. “Good. Yeah, that’s what you should tell him.”
“I even tell him about all the Spanish men you have after you.”
I reach out and grip her shoulders, spinning her around until she’s facing me. “Why would you say that?!”
Her blue eyes, a pair that match my own, are so large and vulnerable that for a second, I forget I’m supposed to be mad at her.
“Because it’s the truth,” she says defensively.
Still, she had no business telling him that. I just assumed that since she wasn’t giving me updates about James, she wasn’t giving him updates about me either. Clearly, I was wrong.
Her eyes narrow at a sight just behind me before she unravels a conspiratorial smile. “Come on, sis. I’m thirsty.”
We both have champagne, and I point that out as she drags me after her, but that doesn’t stop her from leading us to the bar where James is currently waiting in line. There are half a dozen other bars in the ballroom, two of which were in between where we stood at the silent auction and this one. To anyone watching, it’s obvious that we darted across to room to get in line behind him, but hopefully no one is studying our actions that closely. If they are, they probably also saw me pick some spinach out of my teeth using my phone’s camera five minutes ago.
James isn’t alone; Weathergirl still clings to his side like a low-pressure storm system. Lacy is probably seething with jealousy. Me, on the other hand? I’m busy coming up with more weather-based insults in my head.
“James,” Ellie says, tapping him on the shoulder and drawing his attention so he turns and finds us standing there. “So good to see you. I didn’t get the chance to say hi earlier before Lacy started ordering you around. Boy, she can be a real bear sometimes, right?”
With her tone, she makes it seem like it was a happy coincidence that we got in line behind him, but James is too smart for that. He drags his gaze from Ellie to me, and there’s an extra little spark of something that wasn’t there before. Anger? Annoyance?
“When did you return to Austin?”
Yeah, it’s anger. Definitely anger.
“A week ago.”
“And I assume it’s—”
“Temporary, yes.”
“And when do you leave?”
“In a few days.”
He nods in understanding. “Enjoy your trip.”
Then he turns and picks up his conversation with the weathergirl like I’m not even there. I’ve been dismissed.
OH OKAY. Good to see you for the first time in years too.
I should follow his lead and turn away, mind my own business and finish the gala on a high note. This is a conversation best done in private, but instead, I tap his shoulder and interrupt him midsentence.
“I’m sorry, but did I do something wrong?”
My tone isn’t so gentle now that he’s pissed me off.
His gaze spits fire when he replies, “Not a thing.”
The woman at his side wraps a possessive hand around his forearm, and I’ve had enough. I’m about to walk away, but then Ellie pushes me toward him.
“Brooke was actually just telling me she’d love to dance, and I’m sure you two have so much to catch up on.”
Dance?!
No.
While there is a dance floor, it’s currently occupied by only three couples, and each person is upwards of 80. They’re just sort of shuffling around while they lean on each other. James and I would stick out like sore thumbs.
He smiles tightly and extends his arm to encompass the room. “I’m sure there are plenty of men who would be more than willing to oblige.”
My cheeks flush with embarrassment. Not only did he turn me down, he did it in front of the weathergirl, and when she snickers and tries to hide it behind her hand, I’ve had enough for one night. Martha will have to understand. I’m leaving early.
I turn on my heel, prepared to beeline for the exit, but Ellie’s hand digs into my back and she pushes me toward him.
“Plenty of men, sure, but you’re the closest!”
Cupid had enough tact to use arrows in his matchmaking. Ellie, on the other hand, seems to have chosen a hatchet.
I’m not sure if I’m angrier with her for throwing me at James or with James for standing there, actually contemplating turning me down a second time. I narrow my eyes, daring him to do it. He meets my gaze head on, and a muscle in his jaw twitches as he tries to grind his teeth to dust. It feels like I’m winning even though his searing gaze is hot enough to burn through flesh.
Finally, with a heavy sigh, he grabs my hand and turns to lead me toward the dance floor, or at the very least, away from Ellie. For all I know, he could be on his way to depositing my body outside in the dumpster. I’m sure that’s what he’d like to do, though I have no clue why. When we last spoke in Austin, we left things on good terms. Our breakup was mutual and healthy—adult, even. Now he’s suddenly acting like some scorned lover. He’s holding my hand in a punishing grip I don’t particularly enjoy, so I tug hard to extract it, right in time to nearly trip into an ambitious waiter holding a massive tray of hors d’oeuvres. James’ hand settles around my waist as he gently pulls me against him, saving me and the poor server in the nick of time. I stiffen at the familiar warmth that radiates from his touch. He squeezes my waist and then quickly releases me, taking a step away as if he’s trying to put a healthy distance between us. I glance down at the offending hand in time to see him clench it into a tight fist.
