The First Taste(48)

“I—”

“You won,” Mindy says cheerfully.

I feel a hand at the small of my back. “You won?” Andrew asks.

I move away from him. I don’t want him touching me when all eyes are on me.

“Amelia,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

I turn away and spot Sadie coming back to the table. “It’s fine.”

Sadie holds out the small, crystal award and grins. “Where were you?” she asks, nearly bouncing with excitement. She rarely gets giddy, and seeing her happy for me, guilt tugs at my heart. “Can you believe it? You won.”

She gives me the award. It’s heavier than I expect, and I almost need two hands to hold it. I study it. Exceptional Women in PR—Fashion. Other women have babies—I have avec. Even if I’ve doubted it lately, it’s never let me down. I’ve built my world around it. This should’ve been a big moment for me, but I let a man distract me. It’s a classic example of something that would’ve happened when I was with Reggie.

“Amelia?” Sadie asks. “Do you feel all right?”

I blink a few times. I’m being selfish. This isn’t my award—it’s all of ours. My team is looking to me, and I’ve already let them down once tonight. I’m not sure if it’s because I missed the announcement, or if I’m in shock, but the pride I would’ve expected to feel isn’t there.

I force a smile. “We won,” I correct her. “I’d still be working out of a shoebox apartment if it weren’t for my team.”

“That’s not true,” Sadie says seriously, and she’s probably right.

“Really?” Howie asks, shrugging. “I’m pretty sure it is.”

We laugh, and Sadie seems to notice Andrew then. She looks over my head. “Feeling better?”

“Not really,” he responds.

“Where were you guys?” Sadie cocks her head at me. “Nathan tried calling.”

“We weren’t together,” I say. I don’t want to lie to her, but it doesn’t feel like the right moment to announce her brother had me bent over a desk upstairs.

“I know.” Sadie squints at me. “I didn’t mean you were.”

I touch my stomach. “I think I have food poisoning.”

“Geez,” Sadie says. “You and Andrew?”

Nathan snorts, and I glance at him quickly. “Must’ve been the chicken,” he says wryly.

“Or the Glenlivet,” Sadie jokes. “Do you feel well enough to stay?”

Food poisoning or not, my stomach aches. I should’ve been here. I should not have let my love life, if I can call it that, get in the way of what’s important. I shake my head. “I don’t think so.”

“No reason to stay if you don’t feel well,” Sadie says, and her kindness only makes me feel worse.

“I’ll walk you out,” Andrew volunteers. “I should take off too.”

“No,” Sadie says, any sympathy in her voice gone. She nods discreetly at the other side of the table. “What about Mindy?”

“Shit,” Andrew says. “I forgot.”

“You’ve barely spoken to her all night,” Sadie says.

“Well . . .” Andrew lays a hand on her shoulder. “That’s because my mind is on someone else, sis.”

I open my mouth to interject before he can out us, but Sadie beats me to it. “For the last time, Bell . . . doesn’t . . . count.”

“Oh. Got it.” Andrew winks, his dimples deepening with a grin that’s just for me, and my heart skips. Fuck—I’m in trouble. I don’t want a skipping heart. Missing tonight is a wake-up call. I’ve let myself get too wrapped up in a man I barely know—but it doesn’t even matter how well I know him. I can’t get wrapped up in anyone—period. “No need to walk me out,” I say, tucking my clutch under my arm. “I’m a big girl.”

“I know you are,” Andrew says slowly, “but I’m leaving anyway.”

“I’ll get Mindy,” Sadie says. “You can share a cab.”

“Won’t that look bad?” he asks. “If everyone from the firm gets up and leaves right after you win the award?”

“Yes, it will,” I say. “You guys stay. Otherwise, I will.”

“No, no. Go, Amelia,” Sadie says. She bites her thumbnail and looks at Andrew. “If you really don’t feel well—”

“I don’t.” He kisses her on the cheek and looks to me. “Wait there. Let me say goodnight to Mandy.”

“Mindy,” Sadie and I say in unison.

“Right.” Andrew shakes Nathan’s hand, then leans over to Mindy to tell her something. They look good together. His olive skin matches her golden tan better than my nearly translucent white skin. Our differences are stark, but as much as I want to deny it, we look good together too. So good that I want to smile, and that’s a bad sign.

I don’t wait for Andrew. I pick up the award and slip out when his back is turned. As I cross the lobby toward the exit, I hear the quick, solid footsteps behind me. I’m at a disadvantage in my sky-high heels.

“Amelia, wait,” Andrew says.