I’m not one of her loyal fans.
I’m just the man who loved her enough that I fell to pieces when she left.
Screw her anyway.
Is it really my absence at the restaurant she cares about, or is it the headlines? Gossip rags spreading the news that she’d been stood up can’t be good for her ego, or for the McKay brand, and those are the only things she cares about.
I ignore the doubt nagging in my mind.
I meant every word.
I still love him.
I can hear her voice in my head, like the last notes of a siren’s song.
What if she really cares?
What if there’s a chance that something has changed?
What if there’s hope for us?
I’m not immune to her, and God knows, I have enough fantasies stored from years of vacillating between hate and desire, enough images of the life we could have had together…the life we could still have, together.
I shake my head. I’m being a fool, but then, haven’t I always been a hopeful fool with Liz?
The saddest part is, I’d gone to the damn restaurant. I’d gone as far as the hostess booth, separated from the tables by a glass panel. I’d watched her as she waited alone at the table, almost ethereally beautiful, with her hair falling down her bare shoulders like a gleaming dark waterfall. I’d imagined us talking, digging up the past. I’d imagined laying my pain at her feet, opening myself to her and drowning in the pleasure only her body could deliver.
I knew then that if I gave her even an inch, I’d be lost, so I left the restaurant and went back home.
It wasn’t cruelty or heartlessness. It was self-preservation.
I keep walking until I reach my apartment. I work out for a bit, take a shower, then order takeout while warring with my desire to put on another one of Liz’s movies. As I wait for the food to arrive, my phone buzzes with a message from Debra.
I delivered your notes for the cast. Liz was lovely. I can’t believe you guys used to date.
Even my assistant is under her spell.
There’s another message, this one from Rachel.
I’m having a dinner party on Friday and you’re required to attend. It’s semi-formal, just a few people. Heads up. Liz will be there, but that’s no excuse for you not to show. Love you loads.
I close my eyes, ignoring the ringing in my head. I select a movie from the list and soon, Liz’s face fills my screen. Why do I even bother to resist her? No matter how hard I try, there’s just no escaping her.
Chapter Twenty Four
Liz
“Oh, look at you,” Rachel exclaims as soon as I walk into the spacious penthouse. She’s a beautiful woman, a few years older than me, with burnished red-gold hair and an aura of friendly intimacy that instantly puts me at ease. She pulls me into a quick, warm hug. “You look spectacular.”
“Thank you. You look great too.” My eyes skip behind her, surreptitiously searching for Aidan.
“He’s not here yet,” Rachel says with a knowing smile.
“Oh! I…” God! Am I so obvious? I smile weakly. “It looks like a great party.”
She laughs and takes my hand, leading me further into the intimately lit room. There’s a smattering of guests, about twenty people. Soft music fills the air from hidden speakers. A table on one side of the room is loaded with an assortment of cocktail dishes, and beside it, Landon Court is pouring drinks.
“You remember my husband?” Rachel leads me toward him. He looks up at us and even though I’ve met him before and I’m expecting the resemblance, it still knocks me off balance.