She should have at least waited to tell him face-to-face. What if he didn’t feel the same way? What if he’d never even come close to feeling that way? After all, they’d made love and then he’d taken her request to stay professional without any argument. Maybe she’d just been another notch in his tool belt before moving onto the next attractive client.
He might be on a date right n
ow.
It was Saturday night.
She didn’t know how long she sat like that before she realized she wasn’t alone. Payton’s hand was on her arm. “You okay, Kate?”
Kate looked into her friend’s caring eyes, full of love and sympathy. “He’s not answering. I think I waited too long to tell him how I felt.”
Payton patted her back, not even needing to ask whom she was referencing, aware of what had transpired over the past few weeks. “It’s only been a week. He couldn’t possibly have already moved on. You’re hard to forget. I should know, I’ve been your best friend since we were twelve.”
Kate tried to will the tears away but they slipped down her cheek. “He’s not taking my calls. And I just left him a message telling him I love him”—she glanced at her cell phone—“ten minutes ago. And he hadn’t responded.”
Payton pulled her in and hugged her tight. “You’ve got to have faith. It’s all going to work you, just watch. You’re too sensible a person to fall in love with someone who wasn’t smart enough to love you back.”
Kate drew back and accepted the tissue her friend handed her. She hiccuped. “Yeah? What about Michael, then?”
“Oh, come on, we both know you didn’t really love Michael. Not when love has been making you all moony eyed these past few weeks. In truth, I’ve been a little envious of you.”
Kate paused as she held the tissue to her eyes. She’d never asked outright if Payton was in love with her fiancé, but she had always had some doubts. But Payton, for all her open friendliness and exuberance, wasn’t one to share everything when it came to matters of the heart. More softly, Kate asked, “Aren’t you in love with Brad?”
For a moment, Kate thought she saw something wistful in her friend’s eyes, but then it was gone and Payton laughed. “Of course. He’s the perfect guy for me—just ask my mother. You don’t mind me. I’m trying to be sympathetic and doing a terrible job. Come on. Let’s go have too much champagne and dance to my mother’s horrified distress.”
Kate smiled and took Payton’s extended hand. She was lucky to have her. And as for Dominic…she’d at least put it out there. He—and she—finally knew how she felt about him.
No regrets.
Two glasses of champagne later, Kate was almost able to forget the fact that Dominic still hadn’t returned her call. She looked out on the dance floor, where Payton and Brad were whirling around. They did make a beautiful couple. Like Barbie and Ken—although if Payton heard her say that she’d murder her on sight.
Mrs. Vaughn looked deliriously happy as she and Payton’s future parents-in-law sat back and watched the two as if she’d orchestrated every dance step herself. Hell, maybe she had.
Kate had one thing going for her. She didn’t have the overbearing weight of a mother like Emily Vaughn on her shoulder. And from here on out, she’d let the usual arrows and barbs the old crow threw at her slide off.
She didn’t care what the woman thought about her anymore, because she knew the only person who could make her bad was herself. And making the wrong choices all these years had indeed made her feel bad.
But not anymore.
She only wished she’d realized all of this sooner. Before she’d lost Dominic.
“Is this seat taken?”
Her fingers tightened on the champagne flute. She must be hallucinating, because there was no way…
She glanced to her right and saw the disarming crooked smile on the achingly familiar face of the man standing next to her. Her stomach rose to her throat like she was about to go over a big drop on a roller coaster. And her hands were up in the air. Not holding on.
He slipped into the seat, not waiting for a response, which, frankly, she was having a hard time forming.
His fingers went to the collar of his white shirt and a sleek bowtie, pulling it away from his throat.
He was wearing the dreaded monkey suit. For her.
And looking mighty damn fine in it, too.
He leaned forward, his breath tickling at her ear. “You look beautiful.”
Somehow she found her voice. “What are you doing here? And why haven’t you been taking my calls?”