Every Little Thing
Page 83
I tore my eyes from Vaughn’s magnetic stare.
“Speaking of invitations.” Iris swiftly changed the subject. “Didn’t Vanessa get one to the wedding?”
“Yes,” I bit out, still disturbed by Vaughn. “But I haven’t heard from her since I threw her out of the house. I know she’s staying at the Grand, though.” Annie at the grocery store had informed me.
“I can’t believe she can’t see Jack is playing her,” Dahlia said.
“Vanessa only sees what she wants to see.” I glanced back over at Vaughn and swiftly looked away when I discovered his attention was still on me.
Shifting my gaze to the dance floor my eyes caught on a pink dress I admired. A tall brunette I didn’t recognize wore it. She was as tall as the blonde talking to Vaughn and model-like, too. I looked at her partner as they swayed around a little and recognition slammed into me with the force of a car.
No.
No way.
How?
Not here.
Fuck.
I shoved back from the table in an instinctual reaction to be further from him.
“Bailey?” Emery said. “Are you okay?”
No, I am not okay. I got to my feet, my chair screeching across the floor and drawing attention.
The man with the brunette looked over and our eyes met. He gave me a small, arrogant smile, and then he frowned as I continued to stare at him.
Him.
The ghost from my past.
I spun around to leave, desperate for air.
“Bailey, I wanted to talk to you about the parade at the end of the summer.” Kell was in my face, blocking my exit. “I was thinking—sweetie, are you okay? You’re chalk white.”
“Excuse me, please.” I brushed past him, tripping over my stupid dress and cursing it.
“Oh, Bailey.” Sherrie stopped in my path. “I have family who want to visit in a few weeks from New Jersey. Any chance you might have a room available? On discount? Bailey? So rude!”
I heard her call after me as I marched away, my dress gripped tight in my hands.
“Excuse me!”
No!
My heart started hammering so fast it felt like it was climbing upward into my throat with each pound. Nausea rose up right there with it.
“Excuse me.” A strong hand curled around my bicep, pulling me gently to a stop.
I was swung around, face to face with my past.
He was still handsome. Still smooth and dapper. But there were lines around his eyes and mouth that didn’t used to be there, and a hardness behind the constant laughter in his expression that hadn’t been there when he was a young man, either.
“Oliver.” The word croaked as it escaped me.
And it was that little croak that saved me in that moment.
Why was I running away from him at my friend’s wedding?
I wasn’t a naive nineteen-year-old anymore! And I no longer felt inferior to this man. Whoever he was now. Whoever he had been. I wasn’t sure I even knew.
Throwing my shoulders back, I smoothed my expression. “What are you doing here?”
“So we have met?” He stepped into my personal space, smiling curiously.
Renewed anger burst over me.
The bastard didn’t even remember me.
Okay. Take a breath and count to ten. Do not deck him and cause a scene at your best friend’s wedding.
“What’s going on?” Vaughn appeared, pushing Oliver out of my personal space. He stared at the man like he wanted to kill him.
The blonde stood at his back.
Well wasn’t this nice and confusing?
No.
It wasn’t confusing.
Determination flooded me.
This was a wake-up call.
“This is Oliver Spence.” I gestured to my ex.
Vaughn stared at me, bewildered. “I know. He’s a friend from New York.”
Oh my, what a small world. That was a first for me, sleeping with men who were friends. And the fact that Vaughn was friends with him said everything I needed to know about this man who had tried so hard to get under my skin these last few months, and almost succeeded.
“How do you know each other?” Vaughn demanded of his friend.
Oliver studied me, and his brow cleared. “Hartwell!” He threw his arms wide and hugged me.
I extricated myself immediately.
“Oh, Hartwell . . .” Understanding passed across his face. “No hard feelings?”
“None.” I shrugged. “I just don’t hug strange men.”
“Well, I’m hardly strange.” He winked at me.
I made a face. Was he always this irreverently annoying?
Vaughn stepped between us. “Wait, what is going on? How do you know him?”
This was the moment. This was the moment when Vaughn Tremaine would finally get that I would never fall for his smoldering, longing looks again. “Oliver is the one I told you about. The asshole summer boy who told me he loved me when he didn’t.”
My revelation stunned Vaughn into silence, and I walked away, satisfied.
“That sounds like hard feelings to me!” Spence called after me.
I shuddered. God, what a stupid kid I’d been.
Vaughn
This whole reception had been a nightmare so far. First, he couldn’t get rid of Petra. She’d clung to his side from the moment Oliver had brought the women into the ballroom for the after-dinner reception.
He’d tried, unsuccessfully, to get away from the small group, and then found himself cornered by the model.
Then the evening got worse. Much worse.
“Speaking of invitations.” Iris swiftly changed the subject. “Didn’t Vanessa get one to the wedding?”
“Yes,” I bit out, still disturbed by Vaughn. “But I haven’t heard from her since I threw her out of the house. I know she’s staying at the Grand, though.” Annie at the grocery store had informed me.
“I can’t believe she can’t see Jack is playing her,” Dahlia said.
“Vanessa only sees what she wants to see.” I glanced back over at Vaughn and swiftly looked away when I discovered his attention was still on me.
Shifting my gaze to the dance floor my eyes caught on a pink dress I admired. A tall brunette I didn’t recognize wore it. She was as tall as the blonde talking to Vaughn and model-like, too. I looked at her partner as they swayed around a little and recognition slammed into me with the force of a car.
No.
No way.
How?
Not here.
Fuck.
I shoved back from the table in an instinctual reaction to be further from him.
“Bailey?” Emery said. “Are you okay?”
No, I am not okay. I got to my feet, my chair screeching across the floor and drawing attention.
The man with the brunette looked over and our eyes met. He gave me a small, arrogant smile, and then he frowned as I continued to stare at him.
Him.
The ghost from my past.
I spun around to leave, desperate for air.
“Bailey, I wanted to talk to you about the parade at the end of the summer.” Kell was in my face, blocking my exit. “I was thinking—sweetie, are you okay? You’re chalk white.”
“Excuse me, please.” I brushed past him, tripping over my stupid dress and cursing it.
“Oh, Bailey.” Sherrie stopped in my path. “I have family who want to visit in a few weeks from New Jersey. Any chance you might have a room available? On discount? Bailey? So rude!”
I heard her call after me as I marched away, my dress gripped tight in my hands.
“Excuse me!”
No!
My heart started hammering so fast it felt like it was climbing upward into my throat with each pound. Nausea rose up right there with it.
“Excuse me.” A strong hand curled around my bicep, pulling me gently to a stop.
I was swung around, face to face with my past.
He was still handsome. Still smooth and dapper. But there were lines around his eyes and mouth that didn’t used to be there, and a hardness behind the constant laughter in his expression that hadn’t been there when he was a young man, either.
“Oliver.” The word croaked as it escaped me.
And it was that little croak that saved me in that moment.
Why was I running away from him at my friend’s wedding?
I wasn’t a naive nineteen-year-old anymore! And I no longer felt inferior to this man. Whoever he was now. Whoever he had been. I wasn’t sure I even knew.
Throwing my shoulders back, I smoothed my expression. “What are you doing here?”
“So we have met?” He stepped into my personal space, smiling curiously.
Renewed anger burst over me.
The bastard didn’t even remember me.
Okay. Take a breath and count to ten. Do not deck him and cause a scene at your best friend’s wedding.
“What’s going on?” Vaughn appeared, pushing Oliver out of my personal space. He stared at the man like he wanted to kill him.
The blonde stood at his back.
Well wasn’t this nice and confusing?
No.
It wasn’t confusing.
Determination flooded me.
This was a wake-up call.
“This is Oliver Spence.” I gestured to my ex.
Vaughn stared at me, bewildered. “I know. He’s a friend from New York.”
Oh my, what a small world. That was a first for me, sleeping with men who were friends. And the fact that Vaughn was friends with him said everything I needed to know about this man who had tried so hard to get under my skin these last few months, and almost succeeded.
“How do you know each other?” Vaughn demanded of his friend.
Oliver studied me, and his brow cleared. “Hartwell!” He threw his arms wide and hugged me.
I extricated myself immediately.
“Oh, Hartwell . . .” Understanding passed across his face. “No hard feelings?”
“None.” I shrugged. “I just don’t hug strange men.”
“Well, I’m hardly strange.” He winked at me.
I made a face. Was he always this irreverently annoying?
Vaughn stepped between us. “Wait, what is going on? How do you know him?”
This was the moment. This was the moment when Vaughn Tremaine would finally get that I would never fall for his smoldering, longing looks again. “Oliver is the one I told you about. The asshole summer boy who told me he loved me when he didn’t.”
My revelation stunned Vaughn into silence, and I walked away, satisfied.
“That sounds like hard feelings to me!” Spence called after me.
I shuddered. God, what a stupid kid I’d been.
Vaughn
This whole reception had been a nightmare so far. First, he couldn’t get rid of Petra. She’d clung to his side from the moment Oliver had brought the women into the ballroom for the after-dinner reception.
He’d tried, unsuccessfully, to get away from the small group, and then found himself cornered by the model.
Then the evening got worse. Much worse.
