She smiled. “How did you know what I was going to say?”
“I’ve known you ten years, Tessa. You should go to Vail with Dibs.”
She leaned against the threshold, arms crossed. “You won’t feel like I’m skipping town?”
“If any good résumés come in, I’ll set up interviews for the week you get back. You can hit the ground running the minute you return.” Tiffany fluttered her fingers. “Now go home and pack. And I’ll see you tomorrow at the wedding.”
Chapter Twelve
Tessa stood at the first bartender’s station in the Grand Ballroom of the Drake Hotel, eyes pinned to the brother of the bride as he stumbled across the dance floor, offending guest after guest. He approached the table where the mother of the groom and her husband were seated. Tessa held her breath when he slung his arm around the groom’s cousin, teetered precariously off balance, and leaned into the girl’s ear.
The groom’s mother grimaced, slanted toward her husband, and covered her lips with the tips of her fingers. Her gums flapped like ticker tape an hour before the stock market crash. The groom’s cousin, on the other hand, stared at the far wall, face blank, no doubt trying to ignore the heated whispers in her ear.
The drink tally sheet in Tessa’s hand showed Brent had been served seven drinks. Those, combined with the ten he’d been served at the two other stations, made for a few too many.
She glanced at the waitress. “Has he eaten anything?”
“We served him dinner, but I don’t think he ate very much.”
“Get another plate and some coffee. Bring them to an empty seat at the back table.”
The waitress nodded and moved away.
Tessa handed the tally sheet back to the bartender. “Cut him off. And when he complains, send for me.”
“Absolutely.”
She pushed off from the bar in the brother’s direction then jumped when Tiffany seized her elbow and veered her toward the entrance of the ballroom.
“I need you to not freak out,” she whispered. Jaw tight, bleak concern troubling her eyes, she smiled when they passed a table of guests.
Tessa mentally steeled herself, running through the entire wedding preparations in her mind, trying to single out any item they might have missed. “What’s the matter?”
Tiffany brought them to a stop and turned Tessa to look her directly in the eye. “Michael’s here.” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.
Her knees faltered and Tessa withdrew a step. Her stomach seized as if she taken a swift jab to the ribs. “
Michael,
Michael?”
“Michael, your ex-fiancé, Michael.”
“What are you talking about?” She quickly scanned the room. “You must have just seen someone who looks like him.”
“I spoke with him, Tessa. He’s here.” Tiffany smiled, nodding when two groomsmen ambled by.
“How is that even possible?” But the nervous way Tiffany kept tucking her hair confirmed Tessa’s fears. Michael was here, in the same room, at this very moment. She placed a palm on her forehead. “It can’t be. We would have known. His name would have been on the lists.”
“Unless he was an
and guest.
”
“
Shit.
” Tessa dropped her arm, smiling when the maid of honor wafted past.
“Right. So…what should we do?”
“What should we do…what should we do.” She wrung her hands, considering and discarding a list of possible options. “As I see it, I have two choices. Run screaming from the room or go cannonball six shots of vodka.”
Tiffany stopped tucking. Her eyes grew very large.
Of course those choices were
not
an option, for several reasons—the biggest of which would be handing Michael the satisfaction of seeing her reduced to a sniveling pile of goo. Something she would rather die than have happen.
Tessa lifted her chin in a false guise of confidence. “But I will do neither. After all, I’m a successful businesswoman.”
“Yes, you are.”
She shook her hands at her sides, blowing a breath through her pursed lips. “And I can totally handle this.”
“Yes, you can.”
Filling her lungs a second time, she closed her eyes. And a visual of Dibs divided and swept back the darkness behind her lids—the tenderness in his gaze, his playful smirk. The way his full lips parted in that thrilling moment right before he leaned down to kiss her. She opened her eyes and curled her lips into a calculating smile. “And I am dating a gorgeous millionaire who adores me.”
Tiffany’s contented grin was decidedly wicked as she pointed at Tessa with each word. “Yes. You. Are.”
“So I’m going to do my job.” Tessa smoothed a hand down her black cocktail dress. “Let’s just push through this and move on.”
“Good girl.” Tiffany squeezed her arm. “What do you want me to do?”
“Deal with Brent. He’s drunk. The waitress is bringing a plate to the back table.”
“Got it.” She moved off in Brent’s direction, smiled grandly, and slung an arm around his shoulders.
Returning to her station on defective legs, Tessa began a steady search of the room, one table after the next. She exerted all her concentration on slowing her pulse, taking deep, even breaths, and trying not to flee.
Not until she looked to the mother of the bride did she see him. She would have recognized those thick, dark waves anywhere. Her heart thumped once and whirred out of control, heedless of her wishes.
Michael stood beside a young woman, smiling at her conversation with the bride’s mother. They all laughed, then a kiss to the mother’s cheek before the young woman captured his hand and led him through the tables…straight in Tessa’s direction.
She stood frozen. Dismay washed her in waves, her feet ignoring the shriek inside her head to cut and run.
Michael slowly lifted his eyes…and locked them dead-on to hers.
She gasped and stiffened. Her spine connected with the bar. The string quartet went silent. All activity screeched to a halt.
A small smile curved his lips, and he lifted his brows in greeting.
She snapped her head back and forth, zeroed in on the first door she found, and pushed off the bar toward the kitchen. She wasn’t prepared for this. Seeing Michael wasn’t part of the
plan
. She fought the impulse to sprint, get as far away as humanly possible. Revulsion shuddered down her spine. If she could just keep breathing, that’s all she needed to do.
Just breathe…
She pressed her palm to the swinging door.
“Hello, Tessa.”
She closed her eyes. No. She wouldn’t let him win.
She withdrew her hand and faced the room. “Michael.” His dark-brown eyes used to melt her insides, but now they just seemed odd. They weren’t the right color. His hair was too dark. He seemed shorter…and his lips were strangely thin. Dear God, how had she ever described him as attractive?
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” he said.
“That makes two of us.”
An awkward silence hung in the air while she stood vacant under his scrutiny. Her heartbeat drowned out the crowd, and she couldn’t quite figure out what to do with her hands. She shook them at her sides and fought to relax.
“You look incredible, Tessa. Your hair is longer.”
She risked a glimpse in his direction. “Thanks, I guess.”
“I saw your picture in the paper.”
“Oh?” Contentment settled in the pit of her stomach. Good. He had seen her and Dibs together. Served him right.
“David Brenner, is it?”
She snapped her gaze to his. “Yes.”
Michael smiled, as if they shared an unspoken understanding. “Seeing how the other half lives, huh?”
Like he had the right to comment on anything in her life. She sneered. “This conversation is over.” A quick spin and she pushed on the kitchen door.
“Wait, Tessa.” He rushed his words. “I didn’t mean to imply anything. I guess…I-I’m a little nervous here.”
She squinted at him over her shoulder. “What exactly do you want, Michael? I’m working.”
“I need to speak with you.” He lurched forward a step, his brow furrowed with concern. “I have something important to tell you.”
Her eyes popped in disbelief, a dark fury razing all her anxiety to the ground. She had begged…
begged
him to speak with her. And
now
he wanted her undivided attention? “What could you possibly say to me you couldn’t have said a million times? Not to mention, I could really give a—”
“I know.” He put up his hand. “I know—Just, it’s important.”
“Important for who? You?” She clenched a hand on her hip, glaring at him in disgust. The man was a real piece of work.
He lowered his eyes. “Both of us, actually,” he murmured.
A waitress approached from across the room and Tessa dropped her hand, straightened her shoulders. The man could blow his concerns out his ass, for all she cared.
“Brent is back at the bar,” the waitress whispered. “And he’s asking for you.”
“I’ll be right there.” Tessa jerked her thumb toward the kitchen. “Let the chef know the deejay has decided to eat after, okay?”
The waitress nodded and slipped past them through the door.
“Look.” Tessa’s head bobbled with the force of her words. “
If
by some fat chance I decided to hear anything you have to say, it wouldn’t be here, and it wouldn’t be now. I’m in the middle of this wedding.”
“I understand.” He surveyed the room.
“If you must speak to me, call the office.” She crossed her arms. “And it better be for a good reason, not some lame attempt to ease your conscience. I’m long past the point of worrying how you feel.”
“That’s fine.” He refocused on her face. “You really do look wonderful, Tessa. You know, I’ve really missed—”
“Save it!” She swept her hair over her shoulder, painted a pleasant smile on her face, and left for the bar.
Throughout the evening, she did her best to avoid him, though he seemed to want the exact opposite. When she and Tiffany were thanked by the bride, Tessa smiled and waved, faking her appreciation all while Michael’s sad brown eyes bored a hole directly into her chest. If she accidentally glanced in his direction, she always found him staring, the soft note of regret in his gaze coating her skin with an oily layer of slime.
For God’s sake, what could possibly be so important he would actually approach her in the middle of a reception? The mere idea of speaking with him again twisted her stomach in knots.
She’d struggled so hard to say goodbye, endured a horrible grieving process, taken agonizing steps to forget him. Three long, torturous years her suffering had continued. Only so he could pop back into her life and ask to see her like nothing ever happened?
No. What he asked of her wasn’t right. It wasn’t right, dammit! Not after she’d finally let go of the past.
She stewed about it while the deejay announced the wedding party. How easily the bride could have been her, three years ago, being escorted around the room on Michael’s arm. She would have never met Dibs. She would have never known his kisses. The sheer irony made her want to gag.
So instead, she flooded her mind with fanciful images of the next twenty-four hours. She and Dibs would finally be together. His eyes would sparkle when he looked at her. His gentle kisses would tend her lips. A flutter of excitement tickled her belly when she envisioned the way his strong arms would hold her, the intimacy they had yet to explore.
As the long night drew to a close, she shifted against the first bartender’s station while the guests danced the night away in celebration. The time had crept past midnight, but the bride and groom were still in attendance, and to fulfill their contract TNT always stayed until the newlyweds departed.
Hopefully they would leave so she could follow soon after. Being in the same room with Michael, keeping up appearances in front of him had left her drained. She just wanted to go home, forget the entire night ever existed.
Tiffany materialized through the crowd, crossing the room in her direction. “Go home.” She waved a hand.
“What?”
“Go home.” She stopped at the bar and faced the dance floor. “I can handle the farewells from here. Besides, I plan to sleep all day tomorrow, and I know you must be anxious to leave.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely, I wouldn’t want to be here either.” She paused, tucking her hair. “Not that it’s any of my business, but what are you planning to tell Dibs?”
God, did the woman
always
have to be the voice of reason? Tessa kept her focus pinned on the milling guests. “Nothing. There’s nothing to tell.”
Tiffany crossed her arms, appraising Tessa from under a raised brow. “Michael said he needs to speak with you about something important. Don’t you think your new boyfriend has a right to know your ex-fiancé is trying to reach you?”
“Look,
if
Michael calls—and I highly doubt he will after the way I treated him—and
if
I take the call—which I’m going to avoid at all costs—I’m sure whatever he has to say will be insignificant. Most likely, he wants to apologize, which I couldn’t care less about. If it’s something other than that, then I’ll tell Dibs.”
Tiffany tipped her head. “Seems you’re arguing semantics to me.”
Tessa sighed. “Why would I risk ruining our vacation by telling Dibs I saw Michael tonight? That will do nothing but make him upset and frankly, that’s not how I pictured starting our week together.”
Tiffany pursed her lips. “Okay, you’ve got a point.”
“Seeing Michael changes nothing. I’m with Dibs now.”
“All right, already.”
Tessa studied her best friend’s eyes, filled with trust that Tessa knew what was best. She pulled Tiffany into her arms for a warm hug. “But thanks. I appreciate the advice.”
Chapter Thirteen
A hip propped against the side of Dibs’s Jag, her flat hand shading her brow, Tessa lifted her face to the pristine sky and searched for any hint of the plane that would deliver him back to her waiting arms. A bright pink windsock snapped and fluttered atop the hangar. A warm gust of air lifted her hair from her shoulders, and the sky remained a blank, blue canvas. She sighed and dropped her hand, her gaze following down to her black sandals, knelt and retied the long satin ribbons around her ankles.