Chatter, laughter and music float down from the party above, adding to the chaos in my head. Everything sounds harsh and shrill and jarring. Every breath is a struggle because it feels like there’s a building on my chest. Fucking hell. It hasn’t been this bad since I was in my early twenties. I thought it would never be this bad again.
Fuck.
Through the screaming in my head I manage to hear her say my name. It’s a cautious whisper that whips by me on the wind. I turn around and she’s about two feet away, at the bottom of the stairs, barefoot in the sand, her heels dangling from her left hand. The hem of her flowy, silver-gray dress billows around her and so do wisps of her smooth dark hair that’s slipped out of her low side bun. It’s hard to make out her face in the pale moonlight, but that’s probably a blessing. I don’t want to see whatever expression she’s wearing because it’ll be one of the ones I fucking hate—fear, confusion, sympathy.
“I’m sorry. I’m claustrophobic,” I explain tersely and move toward her. Well, not actually toward her; I’m heading for the stairs so I can finish fighting this panic attack in peace and without judgment.
I won’t look at her as I pass. I keep my head down, fixated on the first step. But before I can step on it she’s blocked my path, moving her body in front of me. She drops her shoes and puts a hand on each railing completely making it impossible to climb the staircase.
“Fuck,” I hiss. “Why won’t you just leave me alone?” I step back and run a hand through my hair and then over my face.
She steps right up to me, only a few inches away. “It’s okay. Listen to the waves. Inhale and exhale in unison with them,” she replies calmly. “Focus on just them. Nothing else.”
If it will make her leave me alone, I’ll do anything. My brain feels like a hamster on a wheel, spinning my thoughts around and around. But I force myself to listen of the rhythmic pounding of the waves. I don’t know how long I’m standing there, matching my breaths to the crash of the waves, but eventually everything starts to slow. My thoughts, my heart rate, my blood in my veins, my breathing, everything begins to feel almost normal again.
I feel her hand brush mine and for some reason I can’t even begin to analyze, I reach for it. It feels soft and fragile and I gently lace my fingers with hers. “You’re okay.”
“I’ll never be okay,” I confess.
“Alex.” Her voice is so soft and gentle. “Qu’est ce qui t’es arriver?”
When she asks me what happened it’s is like a lightning bolt jolting me back to the reality of who this woman is and what she thinks about me. I’m a player, a jerk and now probably insane. At least I’m sure that’s what she thinks now. I’m not about to add “tortured,” “pathetic,” and “sad” to the list of words she associates with me. I let go of her hand and take a step back. “This was a wonderful fund-raiser. I hope it surpasses your goals. I’m going to go home now. Good night.”
I leave her on the dark beach calling my name.
I wait impatiently for the valet to come back with my rental. I could have stayed in the Hamptons overnight like Rose and Luc were but I wanted to make sure I was back in the city early to look for Mac. She never showed up this morning to meet me in front of the bakery.
Brie doesn’t seem to be anywhere in sight, thankfully. I turn back as another valet brings up someone else’s car. A couple standing to my left gets in. My car should be next. Everyone around me is chattering away and just like before the background noise is an annoyance.
“This little hobby of hers is quite something,” I hear someone say. “You must be very proud of Brie. I wish we could have been formally introduced.”
Her name cuts through the rest of the voices and I focus on that one conversation with the same intensity with which I focused on the waves.
“I was hoping you could meet her too, but she’s just been so busy tonight running around making sure everything is perfect. What can I say, she’s a good girl with noble intentions,” a second voice replies. It’s familiar, so my eyes seek out the source. It’s that guy, Vince or something. And he’s talking about her like she’s a prized show pony instead of his girlfriend.
“I’m sure she’s a lovely girl, Victor,” the older man commends him like he’s deserving of praise for the person Brie is. “And if you keep her around I’m sure I’ll get another chance to meet her.”
“Oh she’s not going anywhere,” he replies confidently. “I’ll probably pop the question later this year. I’m ready for a wife and a family. I’m just giving her a little more time to prepare the charity for someone else to take over.”
I’m riveted to this conversation now, even though I know I’m eavesdropping. They’re all puffing away on cigars and don’t seem to even notice me. The older man exhales a plume of smoke. “Good idea. It would be hard to run something so time-consuming and be a proper wife and mother.”
I almost snort at that. This guy is straight out ofMad Menor something. Archaic, chauvinistic douchebag. But Victor is nodding. “She’s going to have to give the reins of this endeavor over to someone else one day if she wants to be Mrs. Rosenkrantz. Her friend Len will probably never marry so she could always take over.”
Ouch. Jesus, what is wrong with Brie that she’s with this guy? “So does Brie want a big family?” the younger guy asks.
“Right now all she thinks about are these foster kids. She’s even fantasized about possibly adopting,” he says and his words are dripping with disdain that he tries to cover with a smile. To me, it looks like a sneer. “She’s got such a big heart, you know, always trying to save the world.”
“Very noble,” the older man says but he doesn’t sound impressed. “But kids are hard enough when they’re your own. You don’t need to take on someone else’s problem.”
“Brie will come to realize that eventually,” Victor says dismissively. “I know once she has one of her own, she’ll come to her senses.”
“Sir,” the valet interrupts my eavesdropping.
I look over and he’s standing at the open door of my rented SUV. I hand him a tip and slip behind the wheel, pulling away before I say something inappropriate to that douchebag Brie is dating. Instead I settle for glaring at him in the rearview mirror.
Chapter 9
Brie
