It surprised me when she didn’t let go right away, and it felt good to be held that tightly. For a moment, I stayed completely still with my arms around her back, her chest pressed against mine. When I inhaled, I smelled her perfume—it wasn’t the same one she used to wear, but I liked it. That scent and the feel of her in my arms took the edge off my nerves.
But when Felicity stepped back, she could see I wasn’t entirely okay. “I’m sorry, Hutton.” She reached out and took my hand, squeezing it. “Forget this. You don’t have to come in.”
It wasn’t the first time I’d stood in a parking lot with a woman and hadn’t wanted to attend a social event. But in those instances, I’d been told things like, You’re being ridiculous. Stop being selfish. You need to get over yourself. It meant a lot to me that Felicity understood—so much that I would try to get over myself . . . for an hour. Near an exit. With a cocktail.
“Are you saying you don’t want to be engaged to me anymore?” I teased.
“No. I’m saying that I realize how ridiculous this whole thing is. And it’s not fair to you.”
“It’s really fucking ridiculous. But let’s do it anyway.”
“Really?” Her smile lit up her face.
“Yeah. As long as I don’t have to talk much.”
“I’ll do all the talking,” she said, tugging me by the hand toward the venue. “Promise.”
“Then it’s a deal.” I let my eyes wander over her. She looked so pretty—her bangs looked like she might have gone at them with the scissors at some point today, but her eyes were huge and luminous, and her lips were full and pink. The dress she had on showed off curves I didn’t realize she had, and the hem was shorter than she normally wore. I glanced down at her feet. “You made me wear a suit and you’ve got sneakers on?”
“That wasn’t the plan, but yes.”
“It’s okay. You look beautiful.” I opened the door for her.
She stopped abruptly in the doorway and looked at me. “I do?”
For a second, I was afraid I’d said something wrong. My collar felt tight. “Yes. But it’s not that I don’t think you look beautiful other times. I always think you’re beautiful. I just meant that right now you—”
“Hey.” She smiled again and put a finger over my lips for a moment. “It’s okay. It was a nice compliment. You’ve just never said that to me before.”
“Oh.” I relaxed a little. “Well, I meant it.”
Her cheeks grew slightly pink. “Thank you.”
I followed her through the lobby into the room where the reunion was taking place, and immediately my shoulders and neck tensed up again. At least a hundred people were there, seated at round tables, filling plates at the buffet, waiting in line at the bar, standing in groups with drinks, chatting and laughing and having fun. It was so easy for some people, I thought, grateful when Felicity took my hand. Why was it so fucking hard for me?
The music was loud as Felicity led me between some tables and across the wooden dance floor. She nodded and smiled at people as we passed them, but I kept my eyes on her. Eventually we reached the line for the bar, and she turned to me. “Drink?”
“Yeah.” I tugged at my collar with my free hand.
“Stop fussing. You look perfect. I love that navy suit on you. And your blue tie matches your eyes.”
“Thanks.”
“But you just made it crooked. Let me fix it.” She faced me and straightened my tie with both hands, gently putting the knot back in place without making it too tight. “How’s that feel?”
“Good.” Our eyes met, and my heart thumped even harder.
“Next up,” the bartender said, breaking the spell. “What can I get you?”
We ordered drinks—a Manhattan for me, a vodka and soda for her—and took them over to a small table set apart from the buffet. “This is mine,” she said, gesturing to the platters of appetizers and a stack of business cards. “We can just stay over here, away from the crowd.”
“Okay.” Taking a sip of my cocktail, I indulged in an old habit—immediately locating the nearest exit and planning my escape route in case I had to leave fast.
While Felicity fussed with the display of food on the table, I recalled something a therapist once told me about using body language to exude dominance and control. Power posing, it was called. You sort of stood and moved like you had a fuck ton of confidence, and the idea was that not only could you fool others, but you could fool yourself.