“It’s fine. I just didn’t want to go in without the most beautiful woman in the world on my arm.”
Amelia gives me that stunning smile again, this time with a blush staining her cheeks, and I marvel at how it makes her eyes glow to a smoky charcoal. Goddamn, she’s fucking sexy.
“Wait,” Christa interrupts. “You’re with her?” She points at Amelia.
“I sure am,” I declare without removing my eyes from Amelia’s because those eyes, man. They’re just too pretty not to stare at. “I’m a lucky bastard, right?”
“You’re with him?” She turns that finger on me.
“So it seems,” Amelia replies, her tone a bit bewildered, though there is a hint of amusement in there, too.
“But. You’re. You. No. You’re Oliver Fritz,” Christa sputters incredulously. “And she’s Amelia—” Her words cut off when I throw her my most menacing glare, already knowing the exact nasty nickname she’s about to throw out. Why certain women feel the need to degrade and belittle other women, I’ll never understand.
I slip two one-hundred-dollar bills from my wallet and toss them at Christa. “Have a good night,” I say instead of what I’m really thinking. My fingers intertwine with Amelia’s, and then I’m dragging her past Christa, down the long corridor with the paisley rug and gold walls, toward the ballroom.
I guess I’m going to my high school reunion after all.
The second we’re out of sight of Christa, Amelia yanks her hand from mine, stopping in the middle of the hall and turning to stare up at me. “You remember me?” she asks and then shakes her head like that’s not what she meant to say.
“Amelia Atkins. You were in most of my classes from the time we were in sixth grade or so, on.”
“Right. What I meant to say is, thank you for stepping in back there, but it really wasn’t necessary.”
“Maybe not. I’m sure you can handle yourself with women like Christa. But it felt wrong to stand there and watch that go down, doing nothing. I can’t stand women who feel the need to hurt others just to make themselves look and feel better.”
She folds her arms over her chest, giving me a raised eyebrow. “And yet you dated a woman who did exactly that all through high school.”
Touché. A bark of a laugh slips out my lungs. “Can’t argue with that. Hell, I dated that same vicious woman through college too. Adolescent mistake. What can I say?”
Still, at the mention of that particular woman, an old flair hits me straight in the chest. My fingers find my pocket, toying with the large diamond solitaire set in a diamond and platinum band I stuck in there tonight. It’s the ring. The one I nearly gave to said woman who was screwing around on me with my friend, Rob. A lesson in betrayal I’ve never forgotten. It’s why on certain occasions, I carry it with me.
A reminder to never get too close again.
“Sorry,” Amelia says, withering before my eyes. “That was insanely rude of me. I don’t even know why I said that. Christa got my hackles all fired up, and I just took them out on you instead of her, like I should have. Damn, some women seriously suck, right?” I can’t stop my chuckle, though I think she was being serious. She stares down at the rug, shifting her stance until she’s leaning back against the wall opposite the closed doors where the reunion is taking place. “Look, I wish you hadn’t paid for me. Money and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms at the moment. It’s going to take me a while to pay you back. But I will pay you back. I just don’t have that kind of—”
My fingers latch on to her chin, tilting her head back up until our eyes meet. “I don’t care about the money. And I don’t want you to pay me back.” She opens her mouth as if to argue with me, and I shake my head, cutting her off again. “I mean it.”
She huffs out a breath. “Well, thank you. That’s very generous. But if this is how this night is already starting off, I’m thinking maybe I should just go. Hell, I shouldn’t even have come here in the first place. I don’t know what I was thinking. My sister talked me into it, and I thought…” She shakes her head. “Never mind. It’s stupid.”
I prop my shoulder against the wall so I’m facing her, folding my arms while I stare at her because I can’t seem to help myself. “Why is it stupid?”
“You really want to know?”
“I really want to know.”
Those big eyes slay through me, slightly glassy with emotion. “Because no one in there wants me there. You heard Christa. I was fooling myself into thinking that I could waltz in here ten years later and everyone who treated me like garbage growing up would finally see me for me. That they’d finally realize we’re all on an even playing field now that high school is over. It was going to be like putting all my old bully nightmares to rest once and for all. Only, nothing has changed. I’m still the girl wearing thrift store digs who couldn’t even afford to pay the entrance fee.”
Wow. That’s...
“Can I tell you something?” I ask.
Her hands meet her hips. “You mean something to rival the way too personal verbal diarrhea I just spouted at a man I haven’t seen in a decade?”
She’s trying for brave and strong, and even sarcastic. But she’s sad. I can see it in her eyes that bounce around my face, almost as if she’s not sure she wants to know what I’m about to say. No one wants to be slammed back into their high school nightmare. She wanted to walk in there and make all those assholes eat their words.
I want that for her too.
I like Amelia. I always have. There was something about her that just got to me on a weird level I never quite understood. She was sweet and nerdy and quiet and reserved. So understatedly beautiful. Her hair was all wild with red curls. Her glasses a touch too big for her face. Her body small with her ample curves hidden beneath her ill-fitting prep school uniform.
And looking at her now, after hearing what Christa was saying to her…
In truth, I do remember people being that nasty. Though now I’m positive it was a lot worse than I knew about if Christa’s reaction to her tonight is anything to go by. I only heard comments here and there that I didn’t pay much attention to, nor did anything to stop. Even if I never directly contributed to it, by not stopping it, I was part of the problem.
That’s on me. And it’s not okay. I should have done more to protect her. I should have said something.
“Something like that. You told me yours. Now I’ll tell you mine.”
“Alright.”
I step into her, bending down like I’m about to tell her a secret when really, I just want to be closer to her. Smell her shampoo that makes my cock jump in my slacks. Feel the heat of her body as she starts to blush from my proximity.
“I don’t want to be here either. I got talked into it by my friend, Grace, and now here I am.”
Her eyebrows knit together. “Why wouldn’t you want to be here? You’re a doctor. You were the most popular guy in our class. Captain of the football team. Everyone loved you. Still do, if the tabloids are anything to go by.”
I suck in a deep breath, ready to tell her something only my family and Grace know. “My ex is not only in there with her husband, my former friend, but she’s pregnant. Likely going to be delivered by either my brother or my best friend since she sought them out to be her OB. How’s that for irony?” I roll my eyes. “The only saving grace I have when it comes to Nora is that she never knew I was about to propose. I had the ring in my pocket, ready to drop down onto one knee, but before I could do anything, she told me she was in love with Rob and that we were over.”