I glare. “Fuck off, Len. I’m just going to say hello to her before we cut out. She traveled all the way from California to be here. It would be rude to leave without speaking to her.”
Out of my peripheral vision I see Shyla making her way toward me. Oh crap. She loops her arm through mine and presses her body up against me. “I thought you were leaving.”
I smile and grab a drink from a passing tray. “No. You were right. I should stay.”
We stand where we are, soon swallowed by a swarm of chattering people. I’m ten feet away from Chrissie. Twenty minutes has passed. She still hasn’t looked at me.
This is fucking ridiculous. I’m about to shake off Shyla when Chrissie starts working her way through the guests toward us.
Finally.
Chrissie takes Shyla into a fast embrace.
Fuck.
Is she screwing with me?
“I was so happy when I heard the news,” she says to Shyla. “Thank you for calling me. Thank you for inviting me today. I’ve been out of my mind worrying about Alan.”
“I’m glad you could come, Chrissie,” Shyla says. “Where’s Jesse?”
Chrissie tosses her hair back over her shoulder, laughing. “Dante DeMaze is ruining everything these days,” she explains, noting the main character of Jesse’s bestselling spy novels. “Dante has priority over me. And priority over even celebrations like this one. Jesse is trying to make a tight deadline with his publisher.” She looks at me. “He’s writing or he’d be here, Alan. He’s been on a marathon of work for weeks. I don’t even try to pull him away when he’s like this. He was elated when he heard you’re in remission. We both were.”
I’m about to say something. A loud voice stops me.
“It’s Chrissie Parker.”
Chrissie whirls. Her entire face lights up. “It’s Ian Kennedy.”
She turns back to me.
“It’s wonderful to see you, Alan,” she says, and then hurries off to be scooped up into one of Ian’s overly exuberant, inappropriately physical hugs.
That’s it?
We haven’t seen each other in two years. She traveled three thousand miles to be here.
That’s it?
I can’t breathe. Less than two minutes with her and it feels like the oxygen has been sucked out of the room. I follow Chrissie with my gaze as she moves away into the crowd.
“Are you leaving?” Shyla asks. Shit, I’d forgotten she was there.
“I’m staying.”
I walk away from her. Christ, what just happened here?
I stop at a bar, ignoring everyone and watching Chrissie in the wall mirror behind the tall table.
The minutes of the party slowly tick by. She stays a careful distance away, with Ian glued to her side, laughing and drinking and looking stunning. She’s ignoring me, but I know she’s aware of me.
The room is pulsing with the tension between us. I can feel it. I know she can, too. She looks at me. I feel a jolt through my body. Her gaze quickly moves away. She sinks her teeth into her lower lip.
Oh yes, she can feel it.
She leans in to Ian to say something. Is she finally leaving him and coming over here? We lock eyes again. Still holding my stare, she takes Ian’s hand and moves to the dance floor.
What is she doing?
She steps into Ian’s arms.
I toss down my drink.
She is fucking with me.
My temper flares.
I order another scotch. When I turn back, she’s five feet away from me. Dancing with Ian. I’m about to cut in when the music stops.
The people in front of me start moving, blocking my path. And then, somehow, I’m in the center of the room with Chrissie.
She smiles. “We should probably dance. We’ll look pretty silly just standing here, don’t you think, Alan?”
I stare into her eyes, and I know. She maneuvered this. The staying away from me was deliberate and so was getting next to me on the dance floor alone.
I study her. Her expression betrays nothing. She steps into my arms and a shudder rockets down my body from the feel of her.
Lowering my head so my lips are near her ear, I whisper, “Would you like to explain to me what’s going on, Chrissie?”
She eases back from me. Her eyes widen. Surprised. She makes one of her overly comical expressions. “I’m not sure what you mean. I thought we were dancing.”
Not the answer I hoped for.
Fine. We’ll do this your way, love.
Suppressing an irritated sigh, I change direction. “Thank God you’re here. You’re the first person to walk through that door I’ve wanted to see.”
She laughs. “It can’t be that bad?”
I stare into her eyes. “It’s that bad. I’m so happy you came tonight, Chrissie.”
“Of course I came.” Her arms tighten around me. “And stop being ridiculous. Shyla gave you a wonderful party. I’m so relieved you’re going to be all right, Alan. When I heard you were ill…you don’t have any idea how worried I’ve been this past year.”
Worried? Then why didn’t you come to see me, Chrissie? It’s been two years.
I keep my face carefully expressionless.
Her blue eyes start to sparkle. “You look marvelous, Alan. You don’t even look like you’ve been ill.”
I tighten my hold on her, heightening our contact. “I definitely don’t feel like I’ve been ill dancing with you.”
Her body goes tense.
Damn.
Did I overplay my hand this soon?
She stares up at me. “Why didn’t you tell me two years ago when you found out about the cancer?”
Fuck, why is she circling back to that again? I don’t want to talk about that. I want to know why she is here.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she repeats, more insistent this time.
What does it matter now? “I don’t know. With Neil dying, you and Kaley already had enough to manage. You didn’t need me dropping one more thing on you that week. I was waiting for a better time.”
Her eyes flash, angry. “You were not one more thing, Alan. You were the only thing for me.”
Damn her. Only thing for me? Why did she have to phrase it that way?
“I don’t understand how you could not tell me. How you could just disappear on me and let me think the worst about you. And then to just sit there and listen to the things I said the day I left. Not say a word. And let me walk out the door.”
I want to get out of this as quickly as possible. I opt for honesty. “Because you were right in the things you said to me. Enough right that it pissed me off. Enough right that I kept my mouth shut when you moved out. But only because I never once believed you weren’t coming back, Chrissie.”
She looks away. “You should have told me. You were behaving so oddly. You have no idea what I was thinking. I thought…” Her voice clogs with emotion.
My temper takes hold. “I shouldn’t have had to explain myself to you. You should have known me better.”
Her eyes are wide and searching. “Did I really matter so little to you?”
“Don’t lay this one on me. I’m not the one who left.”
I regret the words the moment I say them. She steps back from me quickly. Fuck, this isn’t going the way I want it to.
“What was I supposed to think?”
I rake the hair back from my face. “It’s been two years, Chrissie. Do you really want to drag up our history?”
“That’s not why I’m here.”
Why are you here?
My temper spikes. Five minutes talking with her and I’m already all fucked up again because of her.
She looks around the room. For some reason, she’s nervous. But then, we’re standing in the middle of dance floor, not dancing.
I wait like a fool for her to make the next move.
When her gaze returns to me it’s intense. “I want to talk to you privately, Alan. Wait five minutes. Then follow me.” Before I have a chance to say anything she disappears into the crowd.