Lag (The boys of RDA #2)(29)

As the line inches forward, I reposition myself to the other side to see more of the room. To my left, beside a pole, in a position I couldn’t see before stands a tall dark-haired man. His backside is visible, but isn’t enough to tell me if it's Trey or not.

I stare at the mysterious back as a woman with red hair comes to stand at his side. Her blue dress wraps tightly around her body, hugging her hips and ending right above her knees. She wraps her arm around his back and he reciprocates the move so they’re wrapped up in each other. I let out the breath I’d been holding. It can’t be Trey if he’s here with someone. I’m turning myself into a stalker over nothing. Tomorrow I'll tell him about it and we’ll laugh together.

With a small shake of my head and a slight chuckle at my own crazies, I refocus on the conversation and answer the question Gloria’s asked. “I have no idea what Roger drinks, I think he likes to stick with water.”

“That’s too bad for you. I hope one day the man will lighten up. He’s a bit uptight if you ask me.”

I laugh at her assessment of Roger. Hell, my seventy-year-old boss in New York let loose more than he seems to. Even though it’s not Trey, my head raises at the laugh again and I look in the direction I last saw the couple. They’re still embraced, but now the woman has leaned forward, deep in conversation to the group they’re with. She turns her body further into the tall guy, and when his head moves to meet hers, I’m faced with the side of Trey’s amused face. Trimmed stubble and all.

Except it can’t be Trey. It can’t be. My breath stalls even as I repeat, “It’s not Trey,” over and over in my head. The line in front of us edges forward again and it’s our turn to approach the bar. I order two waters and stand to the side to wait for the bottles of water..

I try to bring the can’t-be-Trey couple back into my line of sight, but people have moved in front of them. As Gloria approaches me with two flutes of champagne I stumble against a small table as the pictures of Trey from my Internet search flash in my memory. It was over a month ago, from a computer in the Atlantis Resort, but the woman he was featured in photograph after photograph with was a redhead. Could it be a coincidence?

I plan to take two steps toward the couple to try and confirm my suspicions when the Trey look alike turns around completely. My stomach twists and I worry I might vomit. Thankfully, Gloria grabs my arm before the-man-who-is-most-definitely Trey sees me. It’s with her help that I make it back to the area we left Roger and her husband.

My breathing is shallow, but my heart beats rapidly as I race to work through my thoughts. Trey is here and with the girl from all the pictures. The girl who definitely isn’t his sister or some other family member. Have I been played this whole time? Is she a girlfriend and I’ve been made the other woman?

Gloria comes to my rescue again when she pulls me to the side and forces me to move my head from Trey. “Are you all right, Simone? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I turn to Roger and hope my face looks regular sick not vengeful lover rampage sick. “Yes. Yes, I’m fine. I’m going to make a quick visit to the ladies' room.” I hand Roger my water and turn behind me to cross the room before anyone can question me more.

I’ve never been in this situation before and I have no idea what to do. I’m a rational person, even now, so I recognize my first ideas are bad ones. Roger would flip out at the scene I’d cause if I walked over there and demanded to know who the slutty redhead is. Throwing my drink at them is out of the question as well.

This feels like one of those scenes from a movie where the girl freaks out over a coincidence and causes a big issue over nothing. I refuse to become the crazy girl. What I will do is walk in a calm fashion to the bathroom, take a few minutes to get myself together, and then walk back into the room like I haven’t seen Trey with another woman.

Talking through it as I walk to the bathroom makes me feel better and calms a few nerves. What I’ll do once I’m home is up in the air, but it won’t be good. But first I must get through this event without a scene. My steps pick up as the bathroom door looms ahead, a shiny beacon of safety.

“Simone?” his voice is close, but I refuse to flinch or stop, too focused on my destination.

A few feet separate me from freedom. I’ll make it.

“Simone.” A hand grabs on to my upper arm, but he doesn’t pull me back or stop walking. There are mere seconds to make a decision. Do I pull out of his grip and run for the bathroom or stop and pretend I’m fine? At the risk of my job, I stop and have a huge smile plastered on my face by the time I turn around.

He looks magnificent in a black tux and it pisses me off. My mouth falls open ready to greet him, but I stall as the full effect of Trey hits me. His tan skin contrasts with the white shirt and black tux in a perfect combination. His jacket is unbuttoned and open to the white shirt and fabric wrapped around his trim waist. My eyes lower and I spot the light blue bowtie he’s wearing. One that matches the redhead’s dress, like they planned to be all matchy-match. Will she be at his house in a few hours enjoying the view I had last night?

I maintain my smile, but my eyes tighten a fraction. “Hello, Trey.”

“What are you doing here?” he questions me with his lips in a solid line and his eyebrows tight. He’s apparently not as good as an actor as I am.