Ex Games

And that was certainly no lie.

Chapter Twenty-Three

My return to the real world came three days later and while I’d started my day jittery about being in New York, the nerves subsided by the end of the work day – precisely when Lori swung by my desk and set before me a vanilla cupcake with pearl sprinkles lining the pink, petal-shaped frosting. I stared at it for an awed second before looking up at the very wry look on her face.

“Thought I’d forget, you little shit?” she asked.

“Hoped. But I pretty much knew better.”

“You should. Anyway, happy birthday. I’m sorry you chose this day to come back, and I’m sorry I made you actually work.”

“Trust me, I came back on this day for a reason,” I said, plucking the cupcake into my hand and swiping a bit of frosting off with my finger. “It got my head back to feeling normal. Normal-ish, at least. All I need is another few work days and a few social outings and I’ll start forgetting about… everything.”

“Well, if you want to get a head start on the social outings, I’m going to drinks right now with the hippie-dippy chick we get our floral arrangements from. Not for pleasure. Just trying to get her to lower our costs. Can’t wait for her to preach veganism to me for three hours,” Lori said, staring at the wall. Unenthused, she turned to me. “Wanna join?”

“As much as you sold it, no. Not really.”

She laughed. “Fine. Works better for me because I actually need you to drop this envelope off at the Atrium on the East side.”

I stared at the manila envelope she handed me. “Are you kidding me?”

“I’m not. I know it’s Mason Leo’s holiday party but it’s six in the evening, the party doesn’t start till eight, and his staff is probably just leaving the office to get ready for tonight. So I promise he’s not there. In fact, I personally called and made sure of it, so I swear on my husband’s life that – ”

“Okay, that’s not necessary.” I took the envelope from her hands. “I’ll go.”

“Atta girl. Assuming catering’s done setting up, you can swipe some shrimp cocktail while you’re at it,” Lori said. Walking backwards, I took a giant bite out of the cupcake and jabbed my finger at the remaining half.

“Got everything I need here,” I said, my mouth purposely full.

And before she could respond, I stepped into the elevator because the last thing I needed was for her to ask about the crack in my voice. I was trying to be funny but my joke backfired on myself because saying those words aloud actually felt like unintentional self-torture. I didn’t have everything I needed – I was so far from that it hurt. But like the other bruise in my soul, I told myself this pain would eventually lessen. For the sake of moving on, it was all I could hope for.

*

As Vandermark’s biggest and most coveted party venue, the Atrium was generally booked year round with elegant socialite weddings. But come December, it became Manhattan’s most popular destination for the kind of extravagant corporate holiday parties that had everyone gossiping for months – about things like who had too much fun with the top shelf open bar or who nearly had sex in front of all their colleagues in the middle of the dance floor.

Ascending the limestone steps at the entrance, I imagined that Mason’s party for The Leo Group tonight would be exactly that, but with a hundred times as much scandal. I knew Mason had hurt at least a little over me and considering how many women had hurt him in the past – somewhere around zero – I had little doubt he’d use our clash on the tarmac as an excuse to indulge in vices and make himself feel better. And for Mason, feeling better at a lavish holiday party probably involved sleeping with all the prettiest girls in attendance and breaking his record for number of women in one night.

Masochist, I scolded myself, managing a smile at the man who opened the door into the Atrium. I just couldn’t stop. In the past week, I had done alright trying to think about other things but now, in the same building that Mason would be in two hours, I couldn’t stop picturing him. I saw him entering in the same suit he wore to work – something sleek, fitted and dark grey with a black tie. I saw him walking in joined by Noah, both of them striding first to the bar. Then with a drink cradled in those long fingers, Mason would lean back, fully relaxed as his blue eyes scanned the crowd for long legs in short skirts.

From there, my mind fast-forwarded to the image of buttons flying as the lucky girl he picked yanked his shirt open and squealed at the sight of that ripped torso. Another flash and I saw Mason stretched out asleep on the bed I’d gotten my best nights of slumber on.

Ugh.

I missed him. I’d faced enough deceit lately, so I really didn’t need to lie to myself. I missed Mason in a way that I had never missed Aaron and on my birthday, the heartache was only that much worse.

“Miss Simms?”

Blinking, I looked up at a suited gentleman at the host stand, grateful for his sudden greeting because I sorely needed the distraction. “Yes, hi. I’m here to drop off some paperwork from Lori Kirk at Vandermark Restaurants. Would it be okay if I left it here?”

His accommodating smile wavered. “Ah. I can’t accept deliveries on behalf of the host but I would suggest you walk into the main event room and leave the envelope there.”

“Oh. Sure.” I paused. “There’s no one in there right now, is there?”

“No, Miss Simms, there is not.”

“Perfect. Thank you very much,” I said as I made my toward the grand double doors that led into the massive event room. Considering the party was in two hours, I expected to see dozens of tables with ornate centerpieces and hundreds of white and gold balloons floated to the top of the seventy-foot domed ceiling. I figured there had to be at least a dozen staffers milling around busily, trying to put the finishing touches on the party.

But when I walked into the empty room, what I saw snatched the breath from my throat.