I can feel it as I walk around from group to group, introducing myself and my team, checking in on guests and ensuring everyone is having a great time.
And I know the guests can feel it, too.
Jeannie is by my side as I flitter around, clipboard in hand and earpiece tucked inconspicuously in the shell of her ear. Every now and then, she’ll tap my shoulder to let me know of a minor issue, ask a question, or let me know of someone’s arrival. Otherwise, she’s a friendly smile and perfectly timed polite exit at my side.
It’s just after eight when I finally get the chance to talk to Mrs. Landers, who has been tied up with every executive at the event up until this point. She joins me at the east side of the balcony, resting an elbow on the glass railing as she lifts her champagne to her burgundy lips with a smile.
“Ms. Daniels, you completely outdid yourself.”
“Too much?” I ask with a smile that tells her I already know her answer.
“I’ve played host to many events, but none quite as eclectic as this one. If you would have let me in on the planning and told me you were conjuring up a carnival theme, I would have promptly wrinkled my nose and demanded you pivot in another direction. I mean, honestly… carnivals?” And just like she said, she wrinkles her perfect nose. “They’re dirty and smelly and cheap. But this?” She sighs, looking around the space. “This is magical.”
“Mission accomplished.”
“To you, my dear,” Mrs. Landers says, lifting her glass to mine. “And the undoubtedly bright future you have with Ball & Pen.”
I clink my glass to hers with a smile.
“I’m so glad Brandon Church was stupid enough to let you go,” she adds once we’ve cheersed, chuckling to herself and taking a sip of her champagne. She’s completely oblivious to how those words have shocked me still, especially since she’s apparently spotted someone across the pool whom she needs to speak with. “Alright, back to the rounds. Let’s rendezvous at the office Monday morning before I fly back to Atlanta. I’ve already had offers to collaborate and there are unhappy clients looking to move their accounts to our firm.”
And with a waggle of her brows and a dazzling smile, she’s off.
It only takes me a moment to shake off her words once she’s gone. If this was me even a year ago, they might have crippled me to the point of not being able to hold it together for the rest of the event. But I’ve learned a lot in my short life, and one thing I knew for certain was that the show must go on.
And giving power to someone in your past does nothing to grow your future.
Still, even as Jeannie gently touches my elbow and guides me to the next group of guests, I can’t help but ruminate on her words.
That rumination grows substantially when I realize Brandon is in the group I’m approaching.
I’m surprised my legs manage to keep working once I spot him. I’m surprised my heart doesn’t stop beating at the sight of his warm eyes, crinkled at the edges as he laughs at something the woman next to him said. I’m surprised his brilliant, megawatt smile doesn’t steal my breath, that the delicious way his tailored navy suit hugs his shoulders and biceps doesn’t make me audibly moan.
He is, in every way, the absolute picture of elegance and power. Strong and confident, enigmatic and sure. It’s the kind of aura a king might possess, or a billionaire greeting guests on his private island, or the captain of a championship team.
But I’m holding it together, holding everything steady and confident, myself, even in his midst.
Until the very moment his eyes find mine.
They flick to me easily, accidentally, a casual glance up at the crowd around his little pocket of people as he takes a sip of the amber liquid in his glass. I just so happen to be in his line of vision when he does, and at the sight of me, his hands pause, glass hovering just away from his lips.
I could look away. I could turn to Jeannie and pretend I have something to ask her. I could smile as I pass one group on my way over to his. I could look anywhere else than right back at him.
But I don’t want to.
I love the way his gaze burns, like a candle flame I can’t help but hold my hand over. It’s enough to sear my flesh and leave a mark, but it’s a price I’ll pay to keep this warmth as long as I can.
“Are you going to be okay, talking to your ex-boss?” Jeannie whispers as our heels click along the tile. “I can steer you the other way and avoid them, if you prefer.”