We moved away, drifting back into the crowd, and I glanced over my shoulder. Simon and Hannah had already turned toward each other, her head tilted up to his, sharing some private exchange that made them both smile. His hand rested at the small of her back.
Something in my chest ached—envy, longing, grief for a version of myself I’d never gotten to be.
Jack’s hand hovered at my back—close enough to feel the heat of him, far enough that I couldn’t accuse him of touching me. Not really.
I pretended not to notice. Pretended it didn’t steady me. Pretended I wasn’t already in trouble.
At some point, Jack disappeared to speak with investors, and I found myself alone near the bar.
It was easier to observe from the edges. Less pressure. Zero chance of doing something that would mark me as someone who didn’t belong.
A man approached within minutes—charming smile, forgettable face. He asked about my evening, made a comment about the champagne, leaned against the bar with his body angled toward mine.
I made polite conversation and watched Jack across the room.
A blonde had cornered him near the auction displays. She was standing too close, touching his arm, laughing with her whole body angled toward him like a flower seeking sun. She was beautiful. The kind of beautiful I had never been and would never be.
Jack was smiling. Something hot and unwelcome twisted in my chest.
I looked away. Drained my champagne. Ordered another.
The man beside me was still talking. I had no idea what he was saying. I nodded at appropriate intervals and tried not to look at Jack again.
I failed.
Another man appeared. Then another. Each one finding some excuse to drift into my orbit, with interest I didn’t want and attention I hadn’t asked for.
I was deflecting the third one’s offer to get me another drink when a voice cut through the conversation.
“There you are.”
Jack appeared at my side like he’d been summoned, and the look he gave the man beside me was polite on the surface but carried something colder underneath.
“I was just keeping your date company,” the man said, not quite backing down.
“I appreciate that.” Jack’s hand found my waist, proprietary in a way that sent heat flooding through me. “But I’ll take it from here.”
The man retreated. Jack watched him go with narrowed eyes.
“Enjoying yourself?” he asked, a hint of annoyance in his voice.
“Having a wonderful time.” My voice came out sharp, I arched a brow studying him. “Watching women throw themselves at you is very entertaining.”
His eyebrows rose. “Does that bother you?”
“Of course not.” I set my empty glass on the bar with more force than required. “Why would it bother me? Flirt with whoever you want. We’re not together. We’re nothing to each other.”
Jack stepped closer. His voice dropped low enough that only I could hear.
“You’re jealous.”
“I am not jealous.”
“Pauline.”
“I am not.” I said it firmly, clearly, with absolutely no wobble in my voice. “I don’t care. It doesn’t affect me at all?—“
“But I care,”
