“I just flirted,” he said. “I had no intention of it going anywhere, but when it got late, I sobered up just enough to realize that she was interested. She didn’t seem concerned about her husband, but I don’t know where Jake was. We danced, and she was all hands, clinging like an octopus. When I got away, I hid upstairs.”
I bit my lip to prevent my smile.
“I came down when I thought the coast was clear, which is when I bumped into you in the elevator.”
“I see. Is she going to be a problem tonight?”
“No way. If she so much as tries to talk to me, I’ll make out with you. That should scare her away. My gorgeous girlfriend is a perfect human shield.”
I pictured him twisting me to block him from her unwanted advances, throwing me between them. My tiny frame protecting his great big one. I grinned.
“Now I almost want her to try,”I said, amused at the image.
I finished putting in my sparkliest earrings.“Eric’s note said he liked me in black. Could he have been at the last party? I didn’t see him, but I was so busy avoiding you, you’re all I saw. He could have been anywhere and I wouldn’t have noticed.”
“Eric probably saw you dressed up when you left your house,” Christopher said. “He’d better not try anything tonight.” He spun me toward him and into his arms. Tipping my chin upward, he kissed me, soft at first, then deeper, leaving me breathless. “You are stunning.”
I’d never thought I was beautiful. My whole life, I’d felt plain, but Christopher’s sincerity made me believe I could be. Around him, I was pretty.
Christopher’s words almost chased away my belief that Eric would ruin the night; and if not tonight, another one.
“Practicing for later,” he said, grabbing the keys and my hand as we left for the party.
Sometimes being with Christopher was all I thought about; he was as addictive as any drug. He was in my system, yet I always wanted more. It seemed Eric was the same about me and I didn’t understand why. In this timeline, we’d only met twice, and I’d never encouraged his obsession.
They held the party in the main reception area of the Portland Museum of Science, which had been holiday-decorated for the public since mid-November. They festooned it with silver and blue ornaments, lights, and garland. Our Christmas tree at home wasn’t color-coordinated, but a hodgepodge of special ornaments that was a history of our lives. Putting up the Christmas tree had been a walk down memory lane.
I missed my family, but I was still angry, and we hadn’t spoken. What would they think when they watched the new Star Wars movie next week? I might call my dad over the holidays.
We danced and nibbled at food. Christopher held my hand or stood with his arm around me while he chatted with our colleagues. I let my guard down as the evening wore on. He thrived in social situations and it took the pressure off me. I was happy to discover I was having a good time.
The boss’s fifty-something wife looked put out both times she’d tried to cut in while we danced. Christopher had done as promised, twirling me closer and kissing me. She got the message after her second attempt. I was tempted to pretend to see her approach again when the music stopped and the lights came on.
It was time for the boss’s traditional Christmas speech. Mr. Brown was a nice enough man, almost too nice, in fact. It seemed petty to dislike him. One of his worst qualities, other than his tendency to micromanage, was that he enjoyed hearing himself talk. Once he got the mic, it would go on for a while. He was a less comic but equally loquacious version of the genie from Aladdin. His voice grated on my nerves, though he’d done nothing wrong. I stuck it out for a few minutes, but the monologue continued. I needed a break.
“Back in a minute,” I whispered to Christopher, my lips near his ear. A hint of unease about Eric stole over me as I left his side. Taking Dr. Maeve’s advice, I distracted myself by looking for five things I saw as I departed and four things I heard. The calming strategy was enough to allay most of my fear. It was silly to be nervous on my own for two minutes with the party so close. I ducked down the long hallway at the far side of the Museum lobby listening to the bubbling voices ahead. The restroom was crowded with others taking an opportune break—others who’d paid attention and bolted sooner. My phone chimed after I’d been gone longer than expected.
“Everything okay?”said Christopher.
It was sweet that he was checking on me. Our lives had been tense for months, leaving us on edge with the break-ins, stalking, and the creepy surveillance. We were seldom apart.
“Just a line,”I said.“There’s always a line for the women’s washroom.”
There was also an interminable line for the sink and the hand dryer. When I was done, I was one of the last to leave the restroom. When I stepped out into the dim hall, Mr. Brown was finished. His speech hadn’t been short. I’d just been gone too long. I paused in the hallway to text Christopher and let him know I was on my way back, when Mrs. Brown slammed into me from behind and bowled me over.
Unstable on my high-heeled shoes, I toppled sideways, rolling my ankle and my left heel snapped with a crack. I caught myself on the wall, but my ankle throbbed, hot and painful. Something inside had popped. A sprain? The hallway lights seemed to dim for a second with my dizziness. Heat washed over me with a sudden burst of anger. Mrs. Brown hadn’t stopped or said, “Excuse me.” She just shot me a dirty look before she headed back to the party, leaving me on my own at the far end of the long hallway.
If I could have spoken or called out, I would have said something rude. In my head, I cursed her out as I returned to an upright position. The pain in my ankle made me see red. Removing my heels, I hobbled down the hall, shoes in hand. At each step, my left ankle sent shooting pains throughout my foot and up my leg. My dancing was over for the night.
I reached the mouth of the hall and searched for Christopher at the far side of the lobby, scanning the food tables first. I couldn’t see him. He wasn’t at the bar either. The lights dimmed in the main area as a video montage of our year played on a large screen at the front. Loud music blared from the speakers. I winced, tempted to cover my ears.
I took out my phone, intending to finish the text asking where he was, when a hand clamped onto my elbow. Christopher was a lifesaver and I could use a rescue. But it wasn’t him. It was Eric, with his beady eyes and sweaty hands. My resigned good humor vanished, and the bottom dropped out of my stomach. My efforts to stay close to Christopher for safety had failed.
I tried to yank away from Eric’s grasp, using self-defense techniques to break his hold. But it was no use, as my heart pounded in my ears. He grabbed my other arm and wrested it behind my back. Tears welled in my eyes, though I clenched my jaw. I didn’t want him to see me cry. My twisted shoulder turned numb as he forced me down the hallway to a side door. With my throat closed, I was rendered voiceless, as usual. I struggled, but to no avail.
“I just want to talk. Calm down.”
I took a deep breath, trying to scream, but no sound emerged. He shoved me through a side door that exited outside. I stumbled on my injured foot and pain shot up my leg. My shoes dropped in the doorway and I grabbed the doorjamb. He pushed again, prying my fingers loose. He yanked away my phone and tossed it to the floor, where it slid like a hockey puck toward the restrooms. He followed me out the emergency exit into the night, pulling the door closed. We were alone and nobody knew I was missing; a recipe for disaster. Hot tears leaked as I tried to maintain some composure. Panicking wouldn’t solve anything.
