Page 41 of Love in the Time of Conversation Hearts

About an hour and a half into the party, I have to admit things are going really well. The silent auction is bringing in record bids, if my casual perusal of the bid sheets and estimated mental math is any indication. The champagne is flowing, the wines Lauren brought in from the winery seem well-received, and I’ve heard at least eight separate people compliment the deviled eggs. No way in hell am I admitting that to Harrison, though.

As the plated meal is wrapping up—pistachio-crusted grouper with red potatoes—I round up the book club for our annual photo. We stand in front of one of the selfie station backdrops holding picture props with varying levels of appropriateness. Charlie is unsurprisingly the worst offender, holding hearts in front of her chest like a mermaid’s seashells. Harrison jumps in at the last minute with heart glasses and an antennae headband. The picture we end up with has Charlie cackling, Aubrey folding her arms exasperatedly, me yelling at Harrison not to ruin the shot, Lauren jumping out of his way, and Dorothy smiling off to the side as if nothing is happening.

I’ll probably cherish it forever.

Lauren wasn’t wrong, of course. I needed to loosen up, and with a few glasses of wine and a delicious meal in my belly, I find I’m at least able to enjoy the night. I’m in my element, greeting everyone with a firm handshake and a smile and showing off my new, red velvet wrap dress with its flutter sleeves and big bow.

No sense in letting Adam–or my unresolved feelings for him– ruin my favorite night of the year.

When Daphne takes the microphone to usher in the date auction portion of the evening, she mentions just how excited she is about the lineup this year. The audience agrees with a polite round of applause. Meanwhile, my cheeks are simmering. Against my better judgment, I lock eyes with Adam as he rises out of his seat, where that bouquet of roses still sits. He offers me his signature wink. All I can give him is a tight-lipped smile in return.

With a furrowed brow, he straightens his jacket and diverts his gaze. Instead of heading back behind the catwalk with the others, he pulls his secretary, Bianca, aside. They speak for a moment, then she traipses off while Adam takes his place with the others.

Dorothy takes the microphone next, and I do my best to turn my focus to my friend instead of Adam’s every move, hard as it may be. She volunteered to be this year’s auctioneer. Historically, it’s been my job, but with a pit of dread growing in my stomach at the thought of watching people bid on Adam, I’m glad she offered to step in. I don’t think I could have kept a neutral expression on my face while that happened.

Lauren sashays over to me with a glass of wine in each hand, the pink sequins on her bodycon dress sparkling in the pin lights over the catwalk.

“I thought you might need some liquid courage,” she says, pressing the cool glass into my hand.

“You thought right,” I say, taking a sip. “Oh, this is delicious. Am I getting notes of green apple? Lemon?”

Lauren nods slightly, her eyes on the stage as Dorothy introduces the first date. “Both. I’ve taught you well.”

I tip my chin to her, conceding. The bidding dies out quickly, and whoever won makes their way to the catwalk for a picture before Dorothy starts the bidding for the next candidate. I try to nurse my wine throughout the bidding, but it goes down way too smoothly, so by the time Dorothy calls Charlie’s name as the second-to-last date, I’m left holding an empty glass. Charlie saunters to the front of the stage, her platinum hair practically glowing on top of her silver dress. She looks like a disco ball in the bright lights, but in the best way.

“Our girl cleans up nice,” Lauren mutters to me as if reading my mind. I hum my amused agreement. Despite her resistance to be in the spotlight, Charlie absolutely shines.

“Let’s start the bidding at one hundred dollars. Do I hear one hundred?” Dorothy asks the crowd. A hand raises in the darkness to my left. Dorothy acknowledges it, and Charlie barely manages to cover up a grimace.

“How about one hundred fifty? Anyone out there for one seventy-five?” Dorothy coaxes. “Did I mention this one bites?” she adds with a chuckle.

At that, another hand raises toward the center of the room. Charlie almost visibly shudders, then shoots a panicked glance off to the right of the catwalk.

“Two hundred!” comes a familiar voice in the general direction of Charlie’s pleading look. Her shoulders relax, and she flashes a gorgeous smile. Harrison steps closer to the stage, and she tracks his movement, grinning at him the whole time.

“Huh,” I say, surprised. “Didn’t see that coming.”

“Didn’t you?” Lauren says into her wine.

“What do you mean?” I ask, turning toward her. “Did I miss something?”

She shrugs as one of the original bidders shouts, “Three hundred!”

“Four hundred!” Aubrey’s sweet voice cuts through the chatter. Harrison turns to look at her incredulously. She makes a helpless sound, then covers her face with her hands in embarrassment. “I got caught up,” she says, her giggle rising above the noise of the room. Lauren and I both chuckle.

Harrison looks up at Charlie, who shrugs. He rolls his eyes, then shouts, “Five hundred.”

“So he does have money,” I mutter. Lauren snickers.

“Sold, for five hundred!” Charlie yells, pumping her fists in triumph.

“That’s not—” Dorothy starts.

Charlie cuts her off with a razor-sharp glare. “I said, sold. For. Five. Hundred.”

Dorothy bangs her gavel. “Sold for five hundred, I guess?”

The audience is barely containing their laughter as Harrison jumps up on the catwalk for their photo.