Follow Me(44)

Suddenly, I recognized him as Senator Adrian Potts, whom Ayala always praised as a generous patron of the arts. Shit. Upsetting Senator Potts was a serious enough offense to cost me that promotion, no matter how many special videos Irina Venn created for us.

“No problem, Dad,” the creep said.

“Good. Don’t make a nuisance of yourself, Brandon,” the senator said, lifting his hand from his son’s shoulder. He then looked to me, clearly expecting cheerful concurrence.

Rage bubbled inside me while I smiled brightly and echoed, “No problem.”

With a heavy nod, Senator Potts moved on. As soon as his broad back was turned, I dropped the smile and shot Brandon a cold look, silently warning him that I was over his bullshit, no matter who his father was. He tugged at his cap and smiled smugly.

“Leave me alone,” I hissed at him before spinning around and pushing myself once more through the crowd.

“Audrey.”

I whirled at the sound of my name, every last one of my frayed nerves screaming.

“Hey,” Connor said, looking at me with concern. “Is everything all right?”

I forced myself to rearrange my features into a pleasant smile. “Everything’s perfect. Glad you made it.”

“Yeah, thanks for the invite. I’ve always wanted to come to something like this.”

“You haven’t seen Cat, have you?” I asked, casting another glance around the gallery.

“Not yet. I just got here.” Connor stretched his neck and looked over the crowd. “Aha, there she is. Come on, I’ll lead the way.”

He took my arm and began guiding me across the room. As we made our way to where Cat was standing, talking to a blond man I didn’t recognize, my neck crawled once again with the feeling of eyes on me. This time, I didn’t turn around.

I’m not giving you the satisfaction, Brandon, I thought as I gritted my teeth.





CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE





CAT


I checked the time on my phone. Connor said he was on his way twenty minutes ago. Our office was less than a fifteen-minute walk from the museum; he should have arrived by now. I tightened my grip on my plastic cup of wine as scenarios ran through my mind. Maybe he had stepped off a curb and been hit by one of the ubiquitous tour buses. Maybe he had been struck by someone texting while operating a motorized scooter. Maybe he had been denied admittance by the door staff.

Or maybe he had changed his mind about spending the evening with me and gone home. My cheeks grew hot as I considered this last, and most likely, possibility. I shouldn’t have let Audrey talk me into inviting him here. Connor had no interest in me beyond friendship; he never had. I decided to give it another ten minutes. If he hadn’t made an appearance by then, I was leaving. I wouldn’t subject myself to this humiliation much longer.

“Cathy? Cathy Harrell?”

My blood froze in my veins. I hadn’t gone by “Cathy” in years, not since middle school. Not since I’d become a different person. Apprehensively, I looked up from my phone.

“Cathy? It is you, isn’t it?”

I struggled to place the man standing before me. Handsome in an unassuming way with a mop of loosely curled blond hair and warm brown eyes, he looked vaguely familiar.

“It’s me,” he said, offering a dimpled smile. “Max Metcalf. From Camp Blackwood.”

My mouth filled with acid as images of bloodstained rocks swam before my eyes. Don’t panic, I told myself, summoning every ounce of self-possession I had. Remember, it was an accident.

“Max,” I said, my anxiety turning his name into a question. I struggled to modulate my tone and added, “It’s been a really long time.”

“It sure has been,” he said, reaching out for a half hug, to which I submitted reluctantly. “It’s been, what? Fifteen, sixteen years?”

“Longer, I think.”

“Cat!”

I turned in the direction of Audrey’s voice and saw her approaching with Connor, still in the gray slacks and light blue shirt he’d worn to work that day, at her side. My jaw clenched suspiciously. How long had Connor been here, chatting it up with Audrey, while I waited and agonized over whether he would show up? And why was his hand on her arm? I searched Audrey’s face for indications of guilt, but she gave nothing away. Then again, she’d shown no contrition the night Connor tried to kiss her, nor had she when she kissed Bruce Gellar, or any of the dozens of other times Audrey had waltzed off with something she knew I coveted, whether it be a leadership position or just the last slice of pizza.

“Look who I found!” Audrey exclaimed, presenting Connor to me as though he were hers to give.

Still, I was grateful for the interruption. “If you’ll excuse me,” I started to say to Max, but Audrey had already aimed her glossy smile at him and was introducing herself. Stomach tightening, I thought to myself, This can’t end well.

“Sorry,” Connor said to me, smiling apologetically. “I got hung up at work.”

“It’s no problem,” I lied. “I haven’t been here long.”

“Who’s that?” he asked, nodding to Max, who was laughing at something Audrey had said.

“Someone I used to know. Come on, let’s go see the exhibit.”