I didn’t think my heart could break further, but seeing her here has proven just how wrong I often am. My heart lies in shattered shards around my feet.
I watch her dance to an upbeat song from the late eighties, laughing at whatever the Cowboys’ coach has said as he spins her around the floor, and I find myself wishing—and not for the first time—that it was me on the receiving end of that carefree smile.
It’s insane to me that she could be so light, so alive, while I’ve spent that last month in a depression so dark I stopped showing up to work.
In my absence, Gray did what he could to keep things running.
We acquired our first consulting firm last week.
We’re in talks with CBS about pursuing the media side of things after the first of the year.
While I drowned in my grief over losing the only woman I’ve ever loved, life went on without me.
It looks like she did as well.
“She’s breathtaking tonight.”
I jump at the sudden appearance of Mrs. Bratt, turning toward her as she sidles up beside me. She sets her martini glass beside my empty rocks glass on the bar-height table, watching Sutton for a moment longer before turning toward me.
“Mr. Cruz,” she says with a wide smile, “if I may be frank?”
My lips twitch on a smile. “By all means.”
“A woman like that won’t wait forever.”
Don’t I know it. Shaking my head, I focus on Sutton and go for honesty. “I’ve ruined my chances with her, ma’am—Mrs. Bratt.”
“Call me Cecelia, please.” She places a hand on my forearm and squeezes gently, then sighs. “I’m sorry to hear that. The chemistry between the two of you has been obvious since the moment I saw you in the same room. It’s…palpable.”
It’s more than palpable, what we have. Our chemistry is damn nearexplosive.
Wasdamn near explosive.
But that doesn’t matter. I fucked up. “She’ll never forgive me for what I did.”
She hums thoughtfully. “I don’t believe in never,” Cecelia says, making me realize I said that last part aloud. “She’s a smart woman.”
“That she is.”
“Meet her where she is.”
“Hm?” Forcing my gaze away from the woman with all eyes on her as she dances around the floor, I focus on Cecelia. “What do you mean?”
“She’s smart. Too smart for some half-assed apology.” She smiles, glancing over at Sutton, then back at me. Leveling me with a gaze that tells me she might question my intelligence, she asks, “What have you done to show her you were wrong?”
I open my mouth, then close it and run my hand over my jaw. “She won’t take my calls. She won’t respond to my texts.”
She sent multiple bouquets back.
She nearly ran me over when I tried to catch her outside of her downtown office.
Hell, even her best friend won’t speak to me.
“I don’t know what to do.”
She pats my arm, then leans in. “You’re smart, too, Mr. Cruz. You’ll figure it out.”
The song changes and Sutton barely reaches the side of the dancefloor before she’s swept into another dance with another man. I watch him sweep her around the floor, chest aching at the sight of her in arms that don’t belong to me.
