Page 11 of Keeping the Score

By the time speeches and awards start, I’ve accepted that Haven is going to win and that’s okay because I’m my own boss now, I have a great new life as a single woman, and I’m here with a hot professional athlete. There’s always something positive!

So when my name is called I blink in confusion. Did I hear that right? I turn to Ford, who’s smiling broadly.

I’m afraid to stand up in case I’ve made a terrible mistake and I’ll humiliate myself.

Ford takes my hand and pulls me to standing. “Congratulations,” he says in my ear. “Get up there.”

Still blinking, mouth open, I make my way through the tables to the dais, trying not to stumble. The presenter, a man I vaguely know through networking functions, smiles and nods at me. I guess it’s for real? I’m not up here stealing Haven’s award?

Still forcing a smile, I try to get my shit together as I speak into the microphone. “Oh, wow. This is really unexpected. Holy shit.” That gets me a big laugh, and heat floods up into my face. Dammit, I have no idea what to say! I break out in a sweat as I search for words. “I’m so grateful for this because it comes from my peers,” I stammer out. “I know all of the nominees personally and they are all incredible at what they do.” I’m calming down a little and I smile and make eye contact with a few people. “So it really means a lot to me, and I want to thank all the other nominees for the work you do to inspire and motivate, and thankyou especially to Haven for all that you taught me in our years working together.” Yeah. I can be the bigger person.

I straighten my shoulders and thank other people—my former bosses, mentors, and friends who’ve supported me. “And despite economic concerns, there are so many reasons to be optimistic that business will improve.”

I return to the table holding my small crystal trophy, determined not to look at Haven. And Trevor. Now the adrenaline is flowing and I practically float through the room, beaming and accepting congratulations from the others at our table. The room is a blur around me. Ford stands as I arrive beside him and I exuberantly throw my arms around him. His hands close on my hips, sending a dart of heat to my belly, which I ignore.

“I just fucked that up,” I say.

He chuckles. “You did great, Marsh. Congratulations again.” And he slides his arms around me, pulls me against him, and gives me a gentle squeeze that makes my skin tingle everywhere.

It’s a normal physical reaction. He has an amazing body, exuding heat and energy and masculinity, and he smells incredible. And I’m high enough from my win that I just go with it.

I’m about to take my seat when Haven appears.

“Andi,” she says tightly.

My first reaction is to smile, assuming she’s here to congratulate me.

“I can’t believe you won,” she says.

I blink, sensing Ford’s body tense next to me.

“But you only won because you stole Mirabella Cosmetics from me,” she snaps, leaning in. “That was dirty. You don’t deserve that award.”

I actually gasp out loud. “What?”

Ford slowly stands, scowling at Haven, waves of fury emanating from him. “Excuse me?”

She glances at him and actually takes a step back seeing the look on his face from his six-foot-four height. But she doesn’t back down. “You heard me. She’s a fake. She cheats. She went behind my back and stole a client away from me.”

“I did not!” Outrage heats my veins and I stand too, facing her. “That is a lie. You take that back.”

“I will not.” Her eyes narrow. “Losing that client cost me at Design Edge. And it was because of you. That was your plan all along.”

“You’re…” I stop and slide my gaze around, taking in the people around us watching. I lower my voice. “This is not the place for this discussion.”

It’s not a discussion, though. She’s lost her mind.

“Walk away,” Ford says softly, staring her down. He slides an arm around my waist in a protective gesture, pulling me to his side and slightly behind him as if Haven’s going to punch me or something. “Andi did not do that. Just leave.”

Haven’s face floods with color and she glares at him, then at me. And she moves toward me. Instinctively, I take a step toward her too.

“Oh, hell, no.” Ford pushes me behind him, putting himself between me and Haven. “Don’t even think of touching her,” he growls.

His protective presence obviously deters her. Others at our table have stood, sensing an impending bitch battle, or something. Much as I’d like to, I can’t fight with a pregnant woman.

Haven presses her lips together, her face in rigid lines, then pivots on a heel and marches away.

Suddenly I’m trembling, leaning against Ford’s back. “Oh, dear God.”

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