“I think I’ll go back to the house,” he says.
He’s leaving me?
“Asher…”
“I’ll get you more champagne.” He grabs my nearly empty glass. “And maybe get us some real food from the kitchen. Those hors d’oeuvres barely reached my stomach.”
Oh. He just wants some space. That’s fine. Hopefully, he can walk off some of his frustration and we can reset the scene when he comes back. This awkward atmosphere will be gone and the two of us can just have a nice conversation like the one we were having before we kissed.
I nod. “Okay.”
Asher gives me a smile. “I’ll be right back.”
~
He’s not back yet.
I glance at my watch again. Forty minutes have passed. Forty-two, actually.
I told myself Asher would take just fifteen at most. When he wasn’t back by twenty, I wondered if maybe he’d bumped into someone he needed to talk to. After five more minutes, I thought of calling him just to find out what was keeping him—only to realize I didn’t have his number. I started to worry. Now that forty-two minutes have passed, I’m thinking either he bumped into several people or he’s asking the chef to prepare something from scratch. Or something bad has happened to him and nobody has come to notify me because no one else knows I’m here.
That last thought sends me walking briskly back to the house—as briskly as I can in my two-inch heels—while I rub my arms through my shawl to ward off the chill from the air. As I approach, I hear no commotion, no sirens. The music is still playing. People are still chatting. Champagne and hors d’oeuvres are still being served. I let out a breath of relief.
At least I get the feeling Asher is safe. But I still have to find him.
I search the kitchen first. Asher isn’t there and none of the household staff or caterers have seen him. I comb the crowd next. No sign of him either. Where the hell is he? Finally, I decide to ask Lloyd if he knows where Asher is. When he says he doesn’t, I ask if I can search the rest of the house. He gives me permission.
I search every room, my heart racing and my thoughts jumbling to come up with explanations for his absence, many of which hurt too much for me to dwell on. I try not to, but when I still don’t find Asher after looking everywhere, I start to worry. Where on earth can he be?
Finally, I spot him while I’m standing on the balcony. He’s on the front steps. I’m about to call his name, but then I notice there’s a woman standing next to him. Tall. Brunette. Glistening red dress. Diamonds around her neck. Arm around Asher’s waist.
His Maserati Levante stops right in front of them and the valet gets out. As Asher goes around the front of the vehicle to take the driver’s seat, the butler opens the door to the passenger side and the woman slips in. Asher gets in the car and it heads down the private road leading out of the property, the same road we took coming in. Within seconds, the vehicle disappears from sight.
For a while, I just stand there on the balcony gripping the railing, frozen and numb. The scene I just saw of Asher leaving with another woman plays over and over inside my head until it finally sinks in.
Asher left the party. With another woman. Even though he came to the party with me. Even though he asked me to come to this party with him. Even though he kissed me and said he’d come back to me.
My chest constricts. My heart feels like it’s being crushed. I want to scream. I want to cry. I want to jump from this balcony. Instead, I go inside. I lean against a wall and slap my forehead.
Stupid Violet! Did you really think he cared about you? Because he asked you out? Because he was nice to you? Because he kissed you? Did you really think he would come back after you rejected him? Of course he wasn’t going to. Sex was all he was after, and since you rejected him, he had no reason to hang out with you.
Unbelievable. But at the same time, I should have expected it. I should have known sex was all Asher was after. I should have known he’d discard me as soon as he realized he had no use for me. I should have known he wouldn’t even have the decency to drive me home.
I should have known Asher Hawthorne would break my heart.
No. I knew it was a possibility, but I went out with him anyway. I allowed myself to be swayed by his sweet words anyway. I opened up to him anyway. I kissed him anyway.