I’ve lost track of the conversation again when I hear Kaitlyn’s voice addressing me.
“So, Dax,” she says. “I hear you’re kind of a big-shot now.”
The words are barbed hooks, but the bait is tough to resist. This is what I’ve wanted, right? A chance to rub my ex’s face in the fact that I’ve moved on to better things?
One of those better things saves me by resting her hand on my arm and giving a reassuring smile. “Dax’s company was just mentioned in Oregon Business magazine,” Lisa says, giving my arm an almost imperceptible squeeze. “Maybe you saw the article?”
“Maybe.” Kaitlyn glances at me, calculating. She picks up the event program off the bar table next to us and flips it open. “Well, then. Maybe you’d like to bid on one of the silent auction items? On behalf of the company, of course.”
She holds the program open in front of me, and I glance down at the sea of words. Letters swirl in a chaotic alphabet hurricane that makes no sense at all. Words, so many goddamn words. A cold sweat prickles my forehead, and my pulse starts to hammer in my ears.
I know this feeling. I know it so fucking well and I hate it.
“Uh—” I jab a finger at one collection of indecipherable letters and shrug. “Sure. I think I’ll bid on that.”
Lisa glances down at the page, and the two women titter with laughter. Kaitlyn covers her mouth in feigned politeness, but not before I see traces of a smirk. “Oh, Dax,” Kaitlyn says. “You’re useless.”
Still giggling, Lisa gives a little head shake. “Come on, now. Men are always a little hopeless when it comes to that sort of buying decision.”
Kaitlyn takes the program back and shakes her head at whatever the hell I’ve pointed at. “Yeah, but it would be just your dumb luck he’d end up winning it. Then you’d be stuck.”
Rage bubbles hot and sour in my chest. I’m not sure where it’s coming from, but their words bounce off my eardrums like stones thrown at a brick wall.
Useless.
Hopeless.
Dumb.
There’s not enough air in the room. I yank at my tie, desperate to get out of here. Desperate to escape the money and the condescension and the fake laughter and clinking glasses.
I mumble something about needing air as I turn and stalk out of the room. Laughter echoes behind me, and my mouth fills with the sour taste of orange popsicle and shame.
I don’t stop walking until I find myself out in the parking lot. Standing there with my back against the building, I gulp huge lungs full of air until my breathing begins to slow.
“Dax?”
I turn to see Lisa approaching, her expression pinched with worry. “Are you okay?”
She totters a little on too-high heels, and I hate myself for feeling judgmental instead of protective. But goddammit, who the hell chooses footwear that practically begs for a broken ankle?
People who give a shit about appearances, that’s who.
“Go back inside,” I say. “I need a minute.”
Twin creases appear between her brows, and she glances uncertainly back over her shoulder. “Is this about the cufflinks?”
“Cufflinks?”
“The ones you pointed at in the catalog. The four- thousand-dollar solid gold Star Wars cufflinks. I’m sorry, I thought they seemed a little ridiculous, but I guess?—”
“Ridiculous.” The word tastes bitter on my tongue, and I spit it onto the pile of judgements that have been hurled at me throughout my life.
“Dax?”
I turn to see her brow furrowed in confusion. “Why are you here, Lisa?”
She looks at me uncertainly. “I just wanted to be sure you’re okay,” she says. “Everyone around us got kind of worried when you went shoving through the crowd like a Walmart customer on Black Friday.”
