Carly nodded and she and Joe backtracked to my end of the building as I scanned the crowd to try to find Andrew. It was hard to be angry listening to a bunch of high schoolers killing a rendition of “Thriller,” but I knew how traumatic it would be for many of my students to have to walk past the sounds of drums and horns. I pulled out my phone and realized that my party was set to begin in twenty minutes.
Someone tapped my shoulder and I spun around to find Patricia grinning at me.
“Hi, there,” I said. “Looks like I found you.” I shouted over the noise and pointed to her telltale red-and-white-striped shirt, red cap, and black-rimmed glasses. “You make a great Waldo.”
“And you are adevastatingCruella,” she laughed and leaned closer to me so we could hear one another. “You look gorgeous!”
“Stop,” I said, fanning away the compliment. “Is Gerard a Waldo as well?” I glanced around, looking for another red-striped shirt.
Her smile faltered for a moment. “No, he couldn’t be here tonight, he’s not feeling well. But isn’t this wonderful?” She gestured around to the band and the crowd streaming into Crush.
“It’s... something else,” I managed, making a mental note that Andrew’s father wasn’t at his launch party. My dad had left a business trip in California to make it back in time for my grand opening. “Speaking of, do you happen to know how long the band will be playing?”
“Oh, not long,” Pat answered, glancing over at them. “Andrew is training a few of the football guys and they arranged the band as a favor for him. I think they’re only here for a few songs.”
I tried to keep my face neutral as they shifted into a shrieking, trumpet-filled rendition of “Crazy Train” by Ozzy Osbourne. “Oh, okay. Great.”
“What a fun little block party tonight! Is yours starting soon?”
“Yup.” I bobbed my head and held back from saying that it had beenmyparty night for the past six years and Andrew was ruining it. “I should get back there.”
“Have fun! And do stop by after your event ends, I’m sure we’re going to run late,” she said, pointing at Crush. “My son likes to have a good time.”
Understatement of the century.
“I’ll try,” I said. “Please tell Darling I’m looking forward to seeing her.”
But Patricia had her back to me and was bouncing along off tempo to the marching band. I glanced inside Crush as I headed back to my side of the building.
Despite the crowd my eye was drawn to Andrew in the center of the room talking to a woman I could only see from the back dressed as a sexy ladybug. I froze.
Dark hair, perfect legs, tan skin... hold on, was itZadie?
Andrew hadn’t mentioned her name the few times we’d hung out, but why would he talk about his girlfriend with me? There was absolutely no need for the two of us to discuss the flawless woman he’d dated for... well, I wasn’t sure, but it seemed like forever. His personal life was none of my business. I’d assumed that he was single, but maybe they were dating long-distance?
It wasn’t like I cared one way or the other.
Of course, I used to. Sam and I had dissected Zadie endlessly in the aftermath of her wedding. That she’d looked incredible in her clingy pink dress but that it wasn’t quite appropriate for the event. That nearly every single man and a few married ones had hit on her throughout the night despite the fact that she was Nolan’s work friend’s plus-one. That she’d dragged Andrew onto the dance floor when “I Gotta Feeling” came on, and how tacky it was for her to be such a blatant flirt while her date was passed out in a corner.
After all of the wedding hubbub had died down and she’d returned from her honeymoon Sam had offered to run front for me to talk to Andrew about what had happened on the boat, but it was too late. He’d blown off my text message, and he and Zadie had graduated to posting cute selfies together on social media within two short weeks.
It was all the proof I needed to figure out that I’d been his mistake.
chapter sixteen
Are you sure you don’t want my help cleaning up?” Paula asked, turning around to survey the room. She was dressed as a giant magnifying glass, in a silver sweatsuit with a circle of cardboard “glass” on her head. Sherlock Holmes Ivan was eyeing the door and I could tell that he was as ready to go home as I was.
“You’re too kind to offer, but I’ve got it down to a science. I’ll be finished in twenty minutes tops. I need to get out of this costume.”
As much as I wanted to pull off the wig I knew my hair was a matted, sweaty mess beneath it. The outfit might have looked cool, but I was self-conscious and itchy the whole night. My life was soft pants and sneakers, not hoochie dresses and heels.
Paula frowned at me. “I wish you’d hire a helper. You do too much.”
“You sound like my mom,” I laughed.
I didn’t talk about it often, but part of my big expansion plan was bringing not one but two part-time people on board. Expanding into Roz’s empty space would give me the flexibility toprovide additional services, like all-day training packages. But the sale of the building put everything at risk.
“We had a wonderful time tonight, thank you for our prize. Best Literary Costume, what an honor!” Paula said. She stooped to pick Ivan up and he jogged just out of reach. “C’mere, you.”
