Beautiful and Broken (14 page)

He takes a step toward me, his intense gaze focuses on my lips before trailing up to my eyes. I gulp and turn away. When I’m at a safe distance, I turn back to face him.
 

“I got nothing,” he says. “No one. I just need a house that’s comfortable, with a room for my gym equipment. And a fenced yard.”

“For privacy?” I guess.
 

He shrugs. “Maybe a dog.”

A dog. I make a cute face but stop myself from oohing and awwing. For the first time, I see him blush.
 

“What?” he throws his hands up. “We moved around a lot as a kid. I never had a pet.”

I hold back a smile. “A dog. That’s great. Really."
 

He chuckles. “Yeah, well. Do you have pets?”

“I do. Rodney. He’s a beagle and he loves to bark. My mother hates him but my grandmother bought him for my sister and me when we were in high school and Dad wouldn’t let her get rid of him. But I have to give Mom credit—she didn’t get rid of Rodney even after my sister and I moved out.”

“Well, she can’t be that bad then, can she?”

“You don’t know her.”
 

 
“I don’t know. She can’t be that bad. You’re half her.”

What did he just say? I furrow my brow at him as he walks from the room and out of the house, leaving me once again bewildered. He says these things from time to time that completely take me off guard. And it almost seems as if he might have feelings for me, but that’s impossible. I'm still trying to figure out my mess with Jason. Jason was safe, and look what he did—what would a guy like Sawyer do to me? No. I can’t think about that. It will never happen. Never.

Eleven

“TELL ME AGAIN why I agreed to go to this?”

The auction is tonight and I slump onto Amy’s bed while she puts on her makeup. She looks stunning, dressed in black stilettos and a fire engine red dress that dips dangerously low in the back. Her hair is in curls that cascade down her spine. And to top off her hotness, she’s wearing black gloves that stretch up to her elbows.

I pick at my dress, overwhelmed. I’d been with Jason forever and after a few years; I kind of gave up impressing him. I’d grown so comfortable with him that other than the suits I wore to work, I pretty much lived in jeans and a t-shirt. Wearing a formal dress—and a racy one at that—I feel like a poser. Like at any minute someone at the party might scream at me that I don’t belong.
 

Amy turns, holding her mascara wand. “You agreed to come because you’re an awesome friend who wouldn’t want to leave me hanging.” She spins back around, her hair fanning out around her shoulders.
 

I sigh.
 

“You’re coming,” she says in her no nonsense tone.
 

If I don’t come willingly, she’ll just drag me there. “Of course. I said I would.”
 

I pick a piece of string off her comforter and let it drop from my fingers onto the floor. “You never did tell me what happened to Charlie. I haven’t seen him around lately.”

“Oh.” She puts the wand back into her mascara tube and fluffs her hair before turning and taking a seat on the bed beside me. “He wanted to date me exclusively.”

“What? I thought you’d only gone on a few dates with him.”

“I had. Or ten. Who’s counting?” She shrugs before standing and picks out a purse from her walk-in closet. “What do you think, black or silver?”

I shake my head at her. “Oh no, you don’t. Ten dates? Where have I been?”

“Look, you’ve been through a lot lately and you're understandably preoccupied. My time with him was nothing.”

The way she glances away when she says ‘nothing’, like she can’t look me straight in the eyes, says otherwise. “Amy. What are you doing?”

“Don’t.” She puts her hands up. “Sure, I like him, but I am way too focused on my career right now to start something serious.”

“But you
like
him.”

“Is there an echo in here?”

I groan. “I just want to make sure you're not shutting someone out for other reasons.” Namely her cheating, deadbeat father. He’s forever had a presence in all of Amy’s relationships. I can’t remember the last time Amy’s had a real relationship, other than sex. In fact, I don’t recall her ever having one. It makes me worry for her. Yet I can relate. Sure, getting your heart broken is awful, but I also don’t want her to miss out on something great. She deserves something great.
 

“Stand up. I want to take a look at you,” she says.
 

“Uh. Please don’t.”

I stand and she pushes me over to the mirror above her dresser. She stands behind me with her hands on my shoulders. “You look amazing, Molly.”

With rounded shoulders, I rub my arms and glance away. I’m wearing one of Amy’s dresses, a black floor-length number with a swooping neckline that dips between my breasts, and I have ample cleavage. I’m not used to showing it off and it makes me feel insecure.
 

“If you got ‘em, flaunt ‘em,” she says, immediately recognizing my insecurity.
 

I don’t look awful, but I can’t help but think people will stare at me for all the wrong reasons. My curly hair is tame, and smoothed into loose curls that sweep off my neck in an up-do. I have lost weight and for once I’m happy with the size of my hips and waist.
 

“You’re gorgeous. Stop doubting yourself. Jason was an idiot for ever letting you go.”

Is he still an idiot now he’s trying to get me back? But I don’t say that. I want to start this night out on a good note and I don’t need Amy bashing Jason to kick it off.
 

I force a smile and she hugs me from behind. “Thanks, friend.”

“You’re welcome, friend.”

***

We head out in style, in a black stretch limousine paid for by Amy’s public relations firm. She pops the champagne on the drive over and we clink glasses before chugging back the sweet, fizzy liquid.
 

“Slow down there,” I say.

She frowns. “I just need one. To help me get through tonight.”

“Are you nervous?”

She sighs and slumps in her seat. “You have no idea.”

I’m taken aback. For as long as I’ve known Amy, I’ve never seen her intimidated.
 

“Don’t look at me like that. This is my first multi-million dollar event. I fuck this up and I could lose my job.”

“Well,” I say after a hiccup. “I’ll be right there to keep you company.”

“Funny.”

I laugh and give her a quick hug before the limo slows and comes to a stop.
 

“Let’s do this,” she says as the door opens.
 

I didn’t want to be here, but now that I know she needs me, there's nowhere else I’d rather be. Amy doesn’t need anyone, but tonight she needs me. And
no one
needs me.
 

I’ve never been to the Centennial Palace before. It’s as grand as I imagine it. The foyer is massive, with high ceilings and patterned marble floors. A crystal chandelier, bigger than I am, hangs from the ceiling and when I glance up higher I see dome shaped windows looking up at the stars.
 

“Wow.”

“Impressive, isn’t it?” Amy says as she drags me along.
 

The sound of our heels almost deafens me as we walk to the Gaston Ballroom. A gentleman outside the doors asks for our names, and after he ticks us off, we hand our coats to a young girl with a bright smile and golden blonde hair.
 

The second we’re in, a thin man with a pointed nose and a too-long face descends on Amy. First, I assume it’s because she’s gorgeous, but then the topic immediately turns to work.
 

“The refrigerator carrying supplies for the hors d-oeuvres arrived, and they discovered the fridge wasn’t working. They had to throw out all the perishables. Where were you? I tried to call!”

Amy reaches in her clutch and pulls out her phone. “Shit! The ringer is off. How is the fucking ringer off?”
 

Her eyes meet mine. “I have to take care of this.” She stares at her phone. “Nineteen missed calls and twenty missed texts. Fuck. Me!”

I nod and lightly push on her shoulders. “It’s fine. Go.” I give her my biggest smile.
 

“I promise I’ll be right back.”

“No problem. Do what you need to do.”

The ballroom is packed. Model-esque women are decked out in designer clothing and shoes, on the arms of handsome men who look like actors or athletes. These are the kind of people Amy associates with at work, and often after hours. People that I’ve never particularly felt comfortable with. I hope no one recognizes me from the party I attended with her, but then the blue stitches are still sticking in my forehead and I couldn’t cover all the remaining bruise around my eye. There are others here, some my age, and some much older, mingling with the beautiful people. I stop when I spy my mother and father.
 

Of all the people I had to run into. I dodge them for a half hour, choosing a table at the very back of the room. I steal some champagne from a server who walks by and sit there, quietly drinking alone.
 

Then she sees me. My mother. Her slight smile turns into a massive grin and her pearly whites glare at me from across the room. I down the rest of my drink.

“Molly! What on earth are you doing here?”

“This is Amy’s event.”
 

Her smile fades but she picks it back up again—for the sake of politeness, I’m sure. She glances around the room. “The space was bigger last year. They had it at the Convention Centre.”

I groan internally and return her smile. She can’t honestly tell me the Convention Centre is better than the Palace. The Convention Centre is blue collar, where the palace is royal.
 

“I had no idea Amy planned this event. She certainly is climbing the ranks at Addison and Sparks.”

“She’s great at her job, Mom.”

“I’m sure she is.” Mom takes a drink of her champagne.
 

What does that mean?
 

“Did you come with a date?” She folds her arms on the table and studies my reaction.

“I came with Amy.”
 

“Jason said he spoke with you.” She nudges me with her elbow.
 

“He’s not here, is he?” I say with a frown on my face.
 

“Hey, kiddo.” Dad appears at my side and I stand to kiss his cheek.
 

My mother narrows her eyes at me. “Honestly, Molly. I swear I don’t know you anymore. You’ve loved Jason since you were sixteen. You can’t tell me that died overnight.”

“Hiliary,” Dad warns her.

A piece of me did die that day, but it wasn’t my feelings for Jason, unfortunately.
 

Mom and Dad tell me about Dad’s work, and mom tells me about the latest gossip back home. I listen at first but then their voices turn into steady noise, not too dissimilar from a running facet.
 

I’m in a dream world until the last person I expect to see here begins to walk toward my table. Sawyer. If I didn’t know him I’d still notice him. His hair is combed back and his eyes are dark and penetrating. He wears a tux, but his bow tie is undone and the top button of his white shirt is open. His black jacket perfectly complements his broad chest and shoulders, as if it was made especially for him. I swallow hard. Never in my life have I wanted a man like I want him in this moment. I won’t do casual sex—again—but if I did, I’d want to it with him. Just one more night, so I could remember.
 

He takes a drink from his glass and his intense gaze meets mine. I can feel the heat in the room rise. I fan myself with my purse without meaning to.
 

“What’s wrong? Surely, you’re not hot, dear. Don’t they turn the heat on in this place?”

My dad takes another drink.
 

Sawyer stops at the table. “Care to dance?”

My mother glares at him, and then at me before rising to her feet and sticking out her hand. “Hiliary Denton.”
 

“Sawyer Davis. Nice to meet you.” He flashes a winning smile and grips her hand. When he lets it go, my mother massages her hand, as if he gripped it too tight. I guess he doesn’t know his own strength.
 

“This is my husband, Mitchell, and it seems from the look on Molly’s face that you’re familiar with our daughter.”

Sawyer sets his glass on the table and removes his jacket, dropping it on the chair adjacent to mine. I cross my legs when I feel an ache deep in my stomach and between my thighs. Even if I don’t remember our night together, my body sure seems to.
 

Dad and Sawyer shake hands, and Dad offers him the seat Sawyer threw his jacket on.

“No thank you. I was just going to steal your daughter away for a minute.”

“Oh,” says my mother. “And what would that be for?”

“Mom.” I scowl at her but she refuses to look at me. She won’t take her slitted eyes off of Sawyer.
 

Sawyer opens his mouth to speak, but I cut in.
 

“He’s a client, Mom." I stand and walk around the table to meet him.
 

“We’ll talk later, dear,” my mother says, her voice falsely sweet.
 

“I’m sure we will,” I say under my breath.

Sawyer offers me his elbow and I hook it and lead him away. “Thanks for that.”

“You looked like you needed saving,” he says with a low chuckle.
 

“You have no idea.” I point to the door. “Can we just step out for a second? If you want to stay—”

“Stepping out sounds perfect. I can’t stand these stuffy things.”

“So why did you come?”

“I could ask you the same question.”

“Ah, deflection. You do that a lot.”

He sighs and then smirks at me. “I was told to come by my agent. She felt that having my name associated with the children’s charity would do some good for my image.”

“So you didn’t come because donating to kids is a good cause?”

He knocks me with his elbow. “Easy. I would have donated. But do I really need to attend?”