“Because you’re in that dress”—his eyes glide down, leaving a searing path in their wake—“with my boss.”
Yup. Bad idea. We’re in a big crowd, being blocked from Daniel’s view. I step in closer. “I know.”
“Why did he pressure you to come here anyway? I feel like that was kind of shitty of him, don’t you think?” His voice is angry—and I know it’s not at me. It’s at him.
“He didn’t pressure me.” But it’s unconvincing and Ellis knows. He always knows.
“Well, it’s shitty to put you into that position.”
“I know,” I say, my voice tight.
“You know?” He raises an eyebrow. “You know how shitty this is?”
Tears fill my eyes, surprising me. “I’m sorry.”
He looks struck, and he reaches out to pull me into a hug. “Hey, hey,” he says against my hair. “I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.”
I’m mortified and try to pull away. This is all so inappropriate. But he keeps me tightly in his grip and his voice is close to my ear. “I shouldn’t have said that. Forgive me?”
Forgivehim? It hits me then, the full impact of Ellis. Of this walking, talking open heart of a man. A man, who, when he was twenty years old, was so swept up by love that he wanted to marry someone.
“You didn’t do anything wrong. I did everything wrong.” I pull back to look up at him but he’s looking at someone behind me.
“You doing okay there, dancing queen?” Daniel’s whiskey-warm voice asks. I turn to him and smile.
“Yeah, getting a little tired, though.”
He gives Ellis a look, one that seems relaxed if you don’t notice the hard glint in his eye. Then he runs a hand down my arm and holds my hand. “Me, too. Let’s get you in bed.”
“Night, guys,” Ellis says, waving and stepping back, immediately absorbed by the dance floor crowd. As we leave, I look back and can feel Daniel watching me do it. I’m going to have the worst headache tomorrow.
35
The entire drive back to L.A., I am so hungover. Daniel gets us huge iced coffees and doesn’t mind when I mostly sleep. He’s quiet, too. In some back cave of my memories, I remember himnoticing. And those small embers of resentment at even being at the wedding start smoldering again, making me feel defensive as I curl up in the seat.
Before I doze off, my phone buzzes. A couple more messages from the Park women harassing me about setting up dinner. And one from Ellis. I glance up at Daniel before reading it.
Sorry if things got weird last night. Blame the cocktails? Safe travels home.
I swallow back a lump of emotion and close my eyes against the pounding in my head.
My eyes are pried open hours later when we hit the familiar bump of my driveway.
“We’re here.” Daniel’s voice is quiet, like he doesn’t want to quite wake me.
I straighten up, adjusting my sunglasses and working out a crick in my neck. “Oh, god. Sorry I slept the entire ride.”
“It’s fine, I don’t know if I was in any condition to have a conversation, either,” he says with a self-deprecating laugh.
“You all party hard at Watson and Associates,” I say.
“It’s really a problem,” he says, but it’s with love, like he’s talking about his misbehaving toddler. “And hey, thanks for being such a good sport. I know it wasn’t easy…with Ellis and all.”
The weekend and all its complications come rushing back to me and I can’t tell if my headache is from that or the booze. Ellis’s eyes when he was dancing with me.
I can’t have this cluttering my brain. I need to excise Ellis and these tiny inklings of doubt once and for all.
“Well, now you owe me one,” I say, biting down on my lip, looking at him with big innocent eyes.
