Tony eyes me curiously. “I don’t think what you’re doing here is small. I think it’s incredible.” He clears his throat and looks down at his shoes. “You’reincredible, Gia. I’m really proud of you.”
I don’t know what to do with Tony’s praise.
“Thanks, Tone.” I punch his arm. “I have to get back out there.”
“Okay,” Tony concedes, “but this isn’t over, Gia. We need to have a proper conversation. You need to be honest with Mum, too.”
“I know, and I will. Just not tonight.” He nods and we start back to the crowd, but I’m called over by Lenny on the way. I tell Tony to go ahead, and he does, joining Lia, who’s engrossed in the auction with the rest of the guests.
“Your date looks different tonight.”
“Gross,” I wrinkle my nose. “That’s my brother.” I stop at Lenny’s booth and nod to his laptop. “You better have ‘Pony’ on the list.”
“It’s three songs away, and I better see you on the dance floor.” He grins, and I can’t help but chuckle back. “Thanks for the gig, by the way.”
“Let’s just say I was impressed by your skills at the law awards.” I spot Sam weaving through the crowd, heading toward the stage, and know I have to get back to the formalities. “I’ll come back and help you spin later.”
“Looking forward to it.”
I leave Lenny and find Anna amongst the sea of people just as Sam reaches the podium. He clears his throat in the microphone, ready to address the guests. I guess I missed the auction.
“Welcome, everyone, and thank you so much for joining us here tonight to raise funds for such a worthy cause. The women of Melbourne who need help in their darkest times.”
I settle in with everyone else as a blanket of silence comes down over the room, and listen to Sam speak. His shiny upper lip and slight wobble to his voice give away his nerves, but he speaks so beautifully and passionately about Hope House that soon everyone is mesmerised by his words and the way he describes the work he does there. When he nears the end of his speech, he points me out of the crowd and thanks me for putting the gala together and my ongoing support of Hope House, and his words are so touching that fresh tears spring to my eyes as the crowd erupts around me. When the applause dies off, Sam continues.
“And lastly from me, I would like to thank Zayn Romero from Martin&Klein legal for the free legal services he hasalready provided to the women of Hope House, and his promise of on-going pro-bono support to anyone who passes our doors that requires it. Many women who come into our care just don’t have access to the legal aid they need, and to have his premium services available to them free of charge is in most cases literally life-changing and life-saving. So thank you to Zayn who was unfortunately unable to attend tonight.”
As the crowd erupts into another round of applause, I stand with my chin hanging down to the floor. Zayn offered pro-bono work to Hope House? Why didn’t he come tonight to receive the praise for his generous offer? Did he stay away to give me the space I asked him for? I’m sure that’s the main reason, but I know Zayn. He wouldn’t want the recognition for his good deed anyway.
As if I couldn’t love him more, I feel my chest start to physically ache with the overwhelming longing I feel for him, and I’m not sure how much longer I can wait until I flee from here to go find him.
37
“I’ll tell everyone you weren’t feeling well and had to duck out,” Anna promises as she sneaks me out of the ballroom and walks me to the hotel lobby where I call for an Uber.
“You’re the best,” I squeeze her in a tight hug that she reciprocates with gusto. “I mean it. Thanks for your support tonight.”
“Always, girl. Now go get your man.”
I snort then nod my head in the direction of the ballroom where Percy is waiting for her to return. “Only if you go get yours.”
A dazzling smile lights up Anna’s face when she responds “I will.”
My heels clickagainst the marble of the lobby as I head for the lift that will take me up to Zayn’s penthouse. I send a small smile to Zayn’s doorman as I pass, recognising him from my last visit, and the kind-faced, white-moustachedman nods in return as the lift arrives. I bite down on my lip as the lift carries me up to the twentieth floor.
Will Zayn be happy to see me?
The train of my black-sequined gown grazes over the carpeted foyer when I step out of the lift and approach Zayn’s front door. I knock on the heavy lacquered wood a few times, then wait, clutching my purse to my chest in hopes of calming my racing heart.
Waiting for the door to swing open is agonising. Moments pass by in what feels like minutes before I try knocking again. After five minutes with no response, I turn, crestfallen, and walk back to the lift. I didn’t think to call ahead and make sure Zayn was home before turning up here like a crazy woman. Stupidly, I didn’t think he would be out at midnight on a Saturday night, but of course he is. He’s a gorgeous, twenty-eight year old man. He isn’t going to be waiting around for me to sort my shit out. Or maybe heisinside, but with another woman.
Bile climbs up my throat.
I itch to reach for my phone and call him, but I don’t. I’m not going to interrupt whatever, orwhoeverhe’s doing because suddenly my psycho ex-husband isn’t standing in our way of being together. If he’s moving on, then that’s my problem.
Calm down, Gianna. It’s one night out. He could be anywhere. He could be visiting his sister.
The lift doors open and I’m back inside the lobby.
