“As you know, I'm Henry Scott the Third, and I'm so pleased with the turnout tonight for Children Fighting for Hope.”
A round of applause fills the room as I join in with it. Henry raises his hands, moving them downward, encouraging us to quiet.
“Now, even though dinner is over, the night is still young. Please continue to drink, and the dance floor is opening. The auction will continue for the next hour and a half, so if you haven't checked it out, now is the time. Winners will be announced shortly after the closing.” He pauses, slowly letting his eyes scan the room, lingering on the guests for a moment. “Go have fun, and open your wallets and your heart to this amazing cause.”
The room erupts in applause as everyone stands in appreciation of his words.
“Shall we check out what’s in the auction?”
Bradley lifts his napkin, wiping his mouth, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
“I'd love to help you spend some more of your money.”
We both laugh. There is something magical about only the two of us being in on the joke of that statement.
I reach out and Bradley doesn't hesitate to slip his hand in mine. An action I could get used to.
We weave through the crowd, our hands never breaking apart until we reach the entrance to the room containing all the items. The attendant at the door hands each of us a pen.
“Gentlemen, just some information. This is a silent auction. At each item, there will be a tablet. It will have the current bid on it. However, you will not see the bidders’ information. If youwish to go higher than that bid, simply input your information. Increment increases are in hundred dollar amounts.” Bradley’s breath hitches as she looks between us, shifting her weight from one leg to the other. “Any questions?”
Bradley simply shakes his head.
“We’re good. You've been very informative.”
She steps back, ushering her hand out for us to enter. The room is dimly lit, with lights shining down over the auction items, spotlighting them.
People move through the room, pausing at each item, lingering for a few minutes as they decide if they want to bid or not. Bradley and I step up to the first item, a beach house in the Hamptons for five days. The high bid of forty thousand showing.
“What the fuck?” Bradley blurts before composing himself and lowering his voice, looking around like he's checking if anyone heard his outburst. When he's confident no one has, he speaks again, keeping his voice low. “I get that this is for charity, but that's insane.”
“It'll go for more. Pretentious people love to flaunt going there.” Bradley snorts at my revelation.
“Are you bidding on this?”
“No. It's not my scene. Let's see what else there is.” Then it dawns on me that he may think he can't bid if there's something he's interested in. “You know if you see something you want, you can bid too. I'm sure you make a good income with…” I stammer, not wanting to say anything about the website. “With what you do.”
I mean it as a compliment, but as soon as the words leave my mouth, I catch the subtle shift. Bradley’s smile dims just slightly. He doesn’t say anything—just looks away and steps past me to the next display.Shit.That landed wrong.
I step up beside him, close enough that our arms brush, and gently slip my hand into his. “Hey,” I say softly. “If that came out wrong, I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to be rude.”
“You weren’t,” Bradley says, eyes still locked on the item in front of us—some overpriced interior design package neither of us is interested in. He opens his mouth like he’s going to say more, then closes it. The silence stretches between us. “The money’s good,” he finally says. “Just not the job I imagined myself doing.”
Something's going on, and the mood of the night is suddenly changing. Not wanting a great night to hit a solemn note, I take his hand and pull him off of the side, away from everyone, into a private corner.
I take one more look, making sure no one is within earshot.
“Bradley, there's nothing wrong with what you do. You provide a service. Never look down on yourself about it. If it's not what you want to do, then go back to school.”
“I can't. Not yet, anyway.”
“Are you still taking care of your Nana?”
He shakes his head, his body shuddering slightly. “No, she passed away a little over a month ago.”
Fuck, I feel like an idiot.
“Bradley, I'm so sorry.” I debate for a moment, not sure if my next words should even be spoken, as they may be insensitive. “Then what's keeping you from going back to school and putting this job in the past?”
