Page 95 of Wish Lists and Road Trips

Sean’s winning grin almost faltered. My father made a snarling noise.

My mother clapped her hands. “Well, now,” she said. “Let’s take our seats, shall we?”

Sean tucked himself into the chair beside me, lowering his voice. “I’m surprised to see you here tonight, Bridget. I know how much you hate these things. What did you call them?Adults playing dress-up?”

“I didn’t have a choice. I’m sure you know that. Your image has always been the one to protect.” I folded my napkin on my lap, watching my parents carry on with Sean’s. None of them seemed overly awkward being in a room together like my father had claimed.

“Speaking of image, that’s an interesting outfit,” Sean said under his breath. “I can’t say I’m surprised you decided to show up to a black-tie event looking like the talent at a bachelor party. I guess I should be thankful I never saw the wedding gown.”

I glared at him. “It’s called personality, Sean. You should Google it. Maybe you can have Jennifer order you one.” Jennifer was his assistant, though she was Jenny in the late-night texts.

He laughed meanly. “Ah, yes. Personality. Well, Jennifer wouldn’t be caught dead in an outfit like that. Besides, I’ve always preferred her with her clothes off.”

I froze with my glass at my lips. The conversation around us had stilled at that precise moment, and his little confession landed like a bomb in the middle of the table. My mother smoothed her napkin in her lap. My father’s gaze darted between me and Sean, his mouth an unreadable line.

I pressed the back of my hand to my lips, wishing I could crawl under the table and die.

I pulled up to the gated entrance where my GPS told me Brit’s parents lived, and rubbed at my eyes. Jesus, this place was a palace. Especially compared to the run-down house she’d been trying to buy. The dichotomy didn’t surprise me, though. Nothing that I knew about Brit fit with this lifestyle she’d painted for me. To be honest, I’d wondered if the whole rich-kid thing was one of her acts. But here I was in front of a seven-foot wrought-iron gate that told me it wasn’t.

I patted the pocket of my shirt for the purchase and sale agreement I’d folded and stuffed there.

The windows that I could see were lit, but there were no cars in the driveway. Though, I assumed a place like this offered garage parking. I pressed the intercom button and no one answered. My heart sank. I supposed I could drive around the city a bit, come back in a little while and try again. As I was deciding what to do to kill time, the lights from a pickup truck appeared on the other side of the gate. Then it swung open.

The driver pulled up beside me and we both rolled down our windows. “Can I help you?” He had a work coat on over a Henley. There were a few shovels and buckets of sand in the bed of his truck. He obviously worked here.

“I’m looking for Bridget Donovan.”

“The Donovans are at the hospital gala. Bridget went with them.”

“Hospital gala?” I snorted a little laugh at the idea of Brit at an event like that, but it didn’t matter where she was, I was going there.

I considered asking for an address, but I was probably lucky to get that much info out of this guy. Google could give me the rest.

I thanked him and he nodded, waiting for the gate to close behind him before he took off. I turned my truck around and searched the internet for every charity function happening in Boston tonight. It only took a few minutes to hit the jackpot. A dinner benefit for Saint Mary’s with Donovan Financial listed as the top sponsor.

I flicked on my blinker, turning into the driveway for The Plaza, and stopped to let a couple men in tuxedos pass in front of me. This plan was getting crazier by the minute. What if I couldn’t get into whatever this thing was? What if she told me to piss off before I got the chance to tell her about the house? At least if it was black tie she’d probably be in high heels. She’d be easy to catch if she ran away again and this time I wasn’t going to stand there like a mute statue.

Brit told me she didn’t believe I’d ever let anyone down, but she was wrong. Every time I’d dropped everything for my family, there was someone else who I’d disappointed—friends, girlfriends, myself. This time it was her, the one person who hadn’t asked anything from me, and it was the last time.

I pulled my truck up next to a black Jag and straightened the collar on my wrinkled dress shirt. The T-shirt underneath was stuck to my back with sweat from my heated seats and nerves. I did a brief scan of the cab for a stray tie I might have ditched on a drive home one night, but no such luck.

It didn’t matter. I wasn’t here to impress anyone. I just needed a few minutes alone with Brit. To say what I needed to say. She’d found a way to remind me who I was before bitterness took over. I wanted to be that guy again. I wanted to feel that way again. And I wanted to be the person who understood her best too. For all of her confidence and quirks, there was so much vulnerability to her. I wanted to be the one who told her every single day how perfect she was. Because she was perfect. And if I had to do it here, so be it.

I pushed through the revolving door to the swanky, gilded lobby, looking for a sign that would point me in the right direction. Well-dressed people hovered with glasses of champagne and tiny plates of appetizer art. I could hear a band playing through a set of wooden doors. A man at a table stood as I walked toward them. He looked like he worked there.

“Is this the Saint Mary’s benefit?” I asked.

He eyed my outfit, an unpleasant look passing over his face. “Yes, but the dress code is black tie, sir.”

“I’ll only be a minute.” I pushed past him, trying to imagine Brit at a scene like this but all I could see was her standing in my boxers and sweaty shirt, her makeup smudged and her hair a tornado on top of her head. What I wouldn’t give to have her like that again.

I stepped onto the maroon carpet in the ballroom, briefly sorry for the way I was probably tracking mud from my boots. Shit, there were a lot of people here. Nerves started to swell as I scanned tables of tuxes and formalwear. The staff wasn’t going to let me stay here much longer, searching.

But then a flash of color caught my eye and I saw her. In a sea of black and jewel-toned gowns, she was dressed in hot pink. I laughed to myself, despite my heart pounding in my ears.Always the brightest light in the room, Brit.

I pulled in a deep breath, the full weight of how much I missed her settling in my chest as I started across the room. Brit and I were back in the same space and I knew more than ever that I needed to keep it that way.

The table was silent. Maybe they were stunned at the cruelty they didn’t know Sean possessed, or maybe they were holding their collective breath, hoping I wouldn’t make a scene.

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