Promise Me (11 page)

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Authors: Barbie Bohrman

Tags: #Contemporary

BOOK: Promise Me
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"You don't get it. I tried to leave her to go back to you. I loved you, I still do."

With that, I've had enough of his drunken ramblings. I look him in the eyes and tell him he's pathetic before I grab my wine glass and bump into a few bodies on my way outside to get some fresh air.

There are a few other people out here, smokers mostly. Since I don't smoke I just meander my way towards a gazebo about thirty feet away that looks to be unoccupied at the moment. I just want some peace and quiet before I go back in there.

I pace around the confines of the gazebo for a while sipping my wine until my cell phone vibrates in my clutch that is under my left arm. Now what? I skillfully take the phone out of the clutch while still holding onto my wine glass. I see that it's Julia calling and answer as I'm putting the clutch back under my arm.

"Hey girlie," she says, "I was hoping to call you earlier to wish you luck, but I was stuck in a last minute meeting."

"Thanks. I'm actually already here."

"And?" She says, drawing the word out, "Come on, the suspense is killing me."

I'm in no rush to get back inside and I can feel the effects of the alcohol by now so I walk her through the events of the last couple of days. Every so often she interrupts me with the following commentary: "Holy shit! You've got be kidding me! What a piece of garbage! I can't believe that whore tried to pretend nothing was up!" Finally ending with, "You're mom is my new hero!"

"Yeah, mine too. It was pretty awesome, you would have loved it," I say to her while glancing up at the building to see some more people milling about the entrance.

She stays silent for a moment before she states more then asks, "So, he's not there, huh."

"Doesn't look that way, no."

"I'm sorry. Are you ok, sweetie?"

I ponder her question for a second, really thinking about it. Yes, I'm okay with it. I say as much to her, and she's doubtful of my response. I try to explain that even though this originally started out as a way to see Tyler again, it turned out to be something more. Something that I should have done years ago. I needed to see Chris and Lisa. I needed to have closure to move on with my life. Although it would have been even more closure, so to speak, seeing him after all these years. Regardless, I feel like for the first time in my life I can stop doubting myself.

"Wow, I'm impressed, Sabrina. Who would have thought that going to a ten year reunion would be like going through a lifetime of therapy sessions."

"Ha ha," I say sarcastically while looking down at my red painted toes that are peeking out of my shoes. "In all seriousness, I'm good. I'm going to go back in a few minutes and have a bite to eat. Plus, my wine glass is looking for a refill." I pause and ask her how she's doing then drink the last vestiges of my glass.

I'm still looking down at my toes and wiggling them when I hear footsteps coming closer. Julia's going on in my ear about some new client and their ridiculous demands as a pair of men's black dress shoes comes into my view.

"Sabrina."

His smooth voice wraps around me like a silk blanket, causing every nerve ending on my body to stand up and take attention. Somewhere in the back of my mind I'm cognizant of the fact that Julia's still talking, but I can't be sure. Quite frankly, I have no idea if she's asking me a question or waiting for me to say something. Either way, I couldn't string a sentence together right now if I tried. My heart is in my throat as my eyes start a lazy trail from his feet up his body.

He's wearing black tailored dress pants that fall perfectly on his hips, but not before I notice the muscular legs shifting underneath the fabric. His black button down dress shirt is tucked in and held in place with a black leather belt with a simple, yet effective, silver square buckle. The shirt sleeves are rolled up revealing the elusive tattoo on his right forearm that I've dreamt about for years. His right hand is holding a beer bottle and I follow it to its destination when he brings it up to his mouth.

Finally reaching his face, those eyes, chocolate as ever, have a hint of mischief behind them. His dark brown hair is not too short, with a few strands hitting his brow. It has that "I'm trying to look like I don't care about my hair so I just run my hands through it" look. It works… well, since all I want to do is run my fingers through it. As he licks his lips after taking a swig of his beer, he grins.

I'm robbed of the ability to speak, but somehow, of all the things I could possibly say at this momentous occasion, I manage to say under my breath, "Holy, fucking shit."

He actually laughs out loud at the fact that the first thing out of my mouth to him after ten years are curse words. Great.

"Sabrina! What the hell is going on," Julia says in my ear in a panic. Quickly pointing out that I don't curse normally and breaking me out of my spell, I remember that she's still on the phone.

"Gotta go, Julia."

"Wait, are you ok?"

"Yes, totally ok, gotta run."

"Oh my God, he's there," she screams in my ear so loud and I'm sure Tyler can hear her since he's chuckling at the scene playing out before him.

"Seriously, gotta run, I'll call you tomorrow."

"Don't you dare hang up on me. Please tell me two things," she pleads.

I'm already making an ass of myself, might as well prolong it. "Make it quick," I tell her.

She asks the next two questions so quietly that I'm barely able to hear her ask, "How hot and is there a wedding ring?"

I look at Tyler's left ring finger, and quickly answer her, "Super, and no."

She's squealing like a little girl when I hang up on her and see Tyler taking another sip of his beer. This time when he pulls it back from his lips, he takes a step forward while I pull my clutch from under my arm and shove the phone back inside, but not before I turn off the ringer completely. He tilts his head to the left slightly making a stray lock of hair fall into his eyes, which are making a trail from mine to my feet and back up again. I swear that I can almost feel his hands on me as this happens, and it causes me to squirm. He chuckles at my reaction before he finally says, "I was hoping I'd see you here."

Did he really just say that out loud or was it possibly my imagination? I want to pinch myself to make sure this is all real, or better yet, reach out and touch him to make sure this isn't all in my head. I take a deep breath and try to regain my composure and think for a second before I say something else that will make me look more like a moron than I already do.

"Hi, Tyler," I breathe as smoothly as I can muster, dragging some loose hair behind my ear.

His lips curl up on one side into that sexy smile that looks exactly the same as I remember it. "Would you like to come back inside with me?" He asks then glances down at the empty wine glass between us before he looks back into my eyes. "You need another drink."

"Yes."

I start to walk out of the gazebo as he falls in step next to me and places his left hand lightly on my back. It startles me since I can feel his fingers touching my bare skin because my dress has no material back there. I turn my head slightly to look up at him to find him grinning, and I smile as I adjust the hair behind my ear again. He opens the door for me and when I make my way through it, he grabs hold of my hand. I stop and look from our interlaced fingers to his face as he leans down and whispers, "Don't be nervous." He pauses then adds, "I won't bite, I promise."

 

I don't think I've ever felt so many eyes on me at one time. I should say, on us. As Tyler and I walk back into the ballroom with our hands still locked together, I see necks craning and conversations come to an abrupt halt to stare at us like something out of a movie. I turn my head to check behind me to make sure there's no one of extreme importance there before Tyler squeezes my hand to bring my attention back to him. He smiles at my misunderstanding before he starts to pull me forward. For not having seen him in all this time, and in fact only really spending all of one hour with him in my entire life, there is a no question in my mind that I am more than comfortable as he leads me back into the reunion.

He lets go of my hand when we reach the bar and I immediately miss the feeling. Not just the physical touch of him, but the warmth behind it as well. Being this close to him again after all this time is intoxicating and I find myself wanting to curl up into him like a cat. And as foreign as this feeling is to me, it actually feels comforting, like coming home. I take a brief moment to enjoy it, this feeling that I've been longing for, by noticing how absolutely beautiful he is… just as I remember, only better. Even in my four inch heels he's much taller than me when I look up at his face again and he locks his eyes onto mine. He bends slightly and asks, "What were you drinking?"

"Pinot Grigio, thank you."

While he leans on the bar with his right arm and orders our drinks, I stare at the tattoo that's been in my mind's eye for what feels like an eternity. I try to follow the familiar black swirls but they disappear under his sleeve. I wonder how far up the swirls go exactly and if at all possible how I could go about finding this out. He twists slightly to hand me my wine glass and catches me staring at the design. I try darting my eyes back up to his quickly but I know I'm busted. Instead of calling me out on it he motions to my left to a table that is currently unoccupied in the far corner of the ballroom.

On our walk over to the table I notice a few women openly gawking at him, husband or no husband, date or no date, but he doesn't seem to notice it. If he does, he doesn't let it show as his attention is completely focused on me. He pulls out my chair and I thank him before I carefully attempt to cross my legs in my dress without giving him a free show. We sit in silence for a moment, taking each other in while we take sips of our beverages. After taking a pull off his beer, he places it on the table and turns his chair so that we are more directly facing each other. Finally, I lean forward and say what's been in the back of my mind since he appeared in the gazebo.

"I didn't think you'd be coming tonight."

Curse you, alcohol. I make a mental note to slow it down on the truth serum and try to regain control of the situation before I start telling him all kinds of things. My hand nervously goes up to tuck a stray hair behind my ear, but he beats me to it. The motion takes all of a second or two, but it feels like time is standing still when he takes the hair and carefully tucks it behind my ear for me. He pulls his hand back, smiles and says, "You always used to do that when you were nervous."

I'm trying my best to keep it together and look cool, calm and collected after him telling me this. Miraculously, my other hand is still holding the wine glass gracefully. How I manage to do that, I have no idea since my nerves have just ratcheted up a notch by his admission. I tip back the glass to my lips and try to keep up the appearance without downing it in one gulp, which is exactly what I really want to do right now. I mean, how does he even know that? Julia calls me out on it all the time, but I live with her. I've been with him all of fifteen minutes and he has to go and say something to throw me totally off guard. I can tell he's enjoying himself but it's not in a malicious way since I'm not put off by it. I'm honestly more intrigued. So, instead of backing down, I attempt to steer the conversation towards the now.

"So... what have you been doing the past ten years?"

"Well, as soon as we finished school I left town and moved to Philadelphia. I had a few jobs here and there but they were just enough to make ends meet." He pauses and takes another sip of his beer while I put my drink down for good, patting myself on the back for remembering to bag the drinking around him for a bit.

"A buddy I met in Philly eventually hooked me up with a job cooking in a restaurant."

"Cooking," I say more than ask. "That was the last thing I expected you to say."

He chuckles casually and asks, "What did you expect to hear?"

"I don't know, to be honest," I confess, now slightly embarrassed. I have thought about him so many times but the actual thought of what he could possibly be doing was more along the lines of "bad ass extraordinaire", not cooking in a restaurant.

He puts down his beer and leans towards me more so that his elbows are resting on his knees before he continues. "To be fair, I didn't really know I had it in me either. Turns out, I love it."

"That's great," I say, genuinely happy for him. "Cooking has never been one of my strong suits. Maybe you can give me a few pointers."

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