Babe? I felt my eyes go wide. “Now wait just a second—” I began but the mayor approached Lexi with a wide warm smile and began to pepper her with questions about the development. As the two women walked toward the architectural model with Jackson following them like a puppy, I felt Annabelle step up beside me.
“They’re a thing,” she said. “I’m not sure how serious of a thing but definitely a thing.”
I turned to face her. It was the moment of truth. Scale of one to ten, how much did she hate me—with one being “Hate-shmate, let’s kiss and make up” and ten being “I wouldn’t spit on you if you were on fire”? I almost wished I would catch on fire because then I’d know.
“Hi, Goddess,” I said.
“Hi.”
She was so achingly beautiful in her curve-hugging dress that I wanted to whisk her away from everyone and everything and have her all to myself. Selfish? Probably. Did I care? Not a bit.
“Well, well, well, now it’s all coming into focus.” A man’s voice interrupted whatever I’d been about to say, which was probably a good thing because all I could think of was Guh and then I’d likely drool on myself. Still, it was annoying to be interrupted, and I turned to see a thin-wristed, sandy-haired guy standing there in an Armani tux and shiny shoes, looking at Annabelle with unchecked hatred.
It didn’t take a big brain to figure out that this was the guy who’d been making her miserable at work. Objectively speaking, he had a very punchable face.
“I’m sorry, Carson, did you say something?” Annabelle asked. She was all poise and grace, and I wanted to kiss her until I passed out.
“This. You. Him.” Carson sneered. He wobbled on his feet, spilling the whiskey in his glass. He didn’t seem to notice. “You didn’t get the creative director position because you deserve it; you got it because you’re banging him, the rich guy with the stroke.” His voice was slurred and the word came out “shtroke,” which frankly sounded like more fun.
“How much did he pay Miguel to give you the job? Was it worth it?” Then he waved his hands in the air and moaned like he was mimicking me having a seizure and an orgasm at the same time. His whiskey went everywhere, and I pushed Annabelle back behind me before she got soaked.
“You all right?” I asked. She nodded, but her lip was curled in disgust.
“Oh, isn’t that precious?” Carson asked. He mimicked me stepping in front of Annabelle.
I hissed a breath and stepped forward. I was going to rip this asshole apart, not for mimicking me, because . . . whatever. But how dare he diminish Annabelle’s talent that way?
Annabelle must have read my intentions because she looped her arm through mine, holding me back from reaching the dickhead. Still poised, she shook her head and said, “I don’t know what you’re implying, Carson. I was hired for the job before I even met Mr. Daire.”
“Really?” Carson sneered. “So divorced-twice Annabelle Martin had to move across the country to find a man. Looks like you found the only sort that would have you. A lame duck.”
I clenched my teeth and my fists. I wasn’t going to punch him; really I wasn’t. Okay, maybe I was but I never got the chance. In the blink of an eye, Carson was standing in front of me and then he wasn’t.
Jackson had zipped up behind him with my wheelchair and clipped him in the back of the knees, causing Carson to reel back into the chair. He was sprawled in the seat like he’d knocked back a few too many at the open bar, which judging by the sight and smell of him, was not too far off the mark.
“Pardon me,” Jackson said. “I’m just going to take out the trash.”
“And now I’m really glad I didn’t fire you,” I said.
* * *
That made him laugh, his big, booming, shake-the-rafters guffaw. It also startled Carson, who started to rise. Jackson stopped that by rolling out, forcing Carson back against the seat. Annabelle and I watched as they disappeared. I knew Jackson would dump Carson in a cab, making certain he left and couldn’t do any more harm.
“Good riddance,” Annabelle said. She turned back to me and smiled. “It seems everyone’s timing is on point tonight.”
The sight of her took my breath away, and suddenly that was all I wanted—to be far, far away with her.
“Any chance we can get out of here?” I asked.
“Let’s go,” she said.
We ghosted out of the gala to the curb outside. The valet ran to get my car, and when he returned, I gave the keys to Annabelle. Given the dramatic events of the evening, I had no idea how much longer I could go without my constant companion, anxiety, making an appearance. Dr. Franks and I were making progress, but I knew we were playing the long game in regards to my ability to cope.
Annabelle drove through the city streets, and I sat happily beside her, just watching her. I didn’t know how tonight was going to play out, but since she had agreed to leave with me, I was feeling hopeful.
When we arrived at home, I directed her to drive to her place. She cast me a concerned look as if she thought I was just going to dump her off. Fat chance. Little did she know that if things went according to plan, she was going to have to scrape me off her from this moment forward.
She shut off the car and we climbed out. I reached over and took her hand, stopping her on the bottom step. I had some things I needed to say before we reached the door.
“I’m sorry,” we said at the same time. I shook my head at her and she pursed her lips.
“What are you apologizing for?” I asked.
She shrugged. “It’s my default setting. I’m working on it. Also, I felt that I was perhaps a bit harsh the last time we spoke.”
“No, you weren’t. You just said what I needed to hear. I’m the one who has to apologize,” I said. “I was so wrong. Wrong to walk away, wrong to shut you and everyone else out. I can’t believe I let my pride and my fear of intimacy cause me to lose the people I care about most in the world.”
Her brown eyes got wide and then turned soft as if she was hoping this was going to go her way but she wasn’t sure yet.
“You were right to demand that I be there tonight, that I stand up for my sister,” I said.
“And you did,” she cut in. “Spectacularly.”
“I would never have done it without you,” I said. “Thank you.”
She hugged me then. A tight squeeze around my neck that gave me more hope that perhaps all was not lost.
“There’s more. I’ve been seeing a psychiatrist,” I said. I figured I’d better double down while I had her in a good place. She stepped back and looked at me in surprise.