There’s a podium set up against the farthest wall, complete with a microphone ready for me to address my guests. I slide back from my chair and make my way to the podium. I tap the microphone to make sure it’s on, the noise calling everyone’s attention to me.
“Hello, everyone,” I say, my voice deep and resonating. “Thank you for joining me to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day in style. We don’t get to have fun like this often, so I’m glad you’re all here to share the great food and flowing alcohol that this holiday promises.
“I’d like to thank my assistant, Amanda, as well as her assistant, Laura, for arranging this party and sending out the invitations. I’d also like to thank the planning and catering company responsible for putting on this incredible event and for serving us the amazing food. Did you all try that stew? I could eat nothing but that for the rest of my life and be a very, very happy man.”
The crowd laughs as I expect them to. I know these people. This isn’t my first rodeo, that’s for sure. I hold up my scotch glass to the room.
“Cheers to everyone who could make it, and to everyone who couldn’t. They don’t know what they’re missing!”
Another round of laughter. We sip our drinks.
“Thank you all for coming, and I hope you enjoy the delicious meal that our caterers have planned for us.”
At that, the waiters emerge from the kitchen with their trays and begin to hand out the dinner plates. I settle back into my seat and wait for my food to arrive. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Katie. She’s got her eyes on me, watching carefully.
It’s tempting to storm from my seat and confront her now, but I stay put. After the party, I’ll talk to her. Neither of us is leaving this building until we’ve sorted out what happened last year. And hopefully it’ll end with some closure … which I desperately need after all this time apart.
Chapter Nine
Katie
I thought that seeing Trent Moore again would be easy. It’s been over a year—I should be over what happened. But meeting his eyes at the beginning of the party threw me off for the rest of the night.
Not only did he remind me that my son is at home and that he’ll never know his father, but it also brought back memories of our passionate love affair. I haven’t slept with anyone since that incredible night with Trent, but my traitorous body appears to be ready to get back into bed just at the sight of him. I can feel my pussy getting wet as I take in his form, toned and muscular as ever, but I vow to not give in to the asshole who wouldn’t take my calls.
Lizzy noticed early on that I was shaken, so she tried to make me feel better, thinking that I was acting strangely because I miss my son. She showed me funny videos on her phone until I laughed, and then sent me to the kitchen to oversee the dinner preparation. I hid there, only entering the dining room when absolutely necessary. There were a few near misses when I came close to an awkward, angry conversation with Trent. I dodged him every time, knowing it was better for both of us to avoid a confrontation in front of his esteemed guests.
As tempted as I am to scream at the man who made love to me and then disappeared from my life without so much as a text, I know it’s not a good idea. I have baby Trentie now, and he’s all I need. I convince myself that tonight is just a small blip, and my child and I will move on from this without looking back.
Still, as the waiters and waitresses bring stacks of dirty dessert plates back into the kitchen, I know that time is running short. I won’t be able to duck out before the place has cleared, and Trent Moore is the host. He’ll be the last one to leave. There’s a back exit through the kitchen that leads to a scary alley I’d have to walk through to reach my car in the employee parking lot. I could take the exit and avoid any risk of running into Trent. But I’d also risk being mugged, and that risk is too great for me.
Lizzy squeezes my shoulder. “You’ve almost made it. Just an hour or so and you get to head home to play with your baby.”
I picture Trentie, already asleep in his crib, and smile. She’s right. I can handle another hour, dodge Trent Moore, and get home to my child. That’s all I need.
“The last of the guests are finishing their drinks. Would you mind helping gather up plates and such? The sooner we clean up, the sooner we can clear out,” Lizzy says, trying to be helpful.