Page 15 of Always

Gwen looked curiously between the two of them, but immediately the moment passed, and James was only watching the MC again as she read out the next question.

Anika drew her hand back. The elation she had been feeling leeched away, and she was only hot and a little miserable.

The more time she spent around James, the more she had tried to convince herself that she was over their former connection. She hoped enough time had passed that they could just be friends. But the feeling of his hand on hers sent a pulse through her whole body. She remembered how those large, strong hands used to touch and rub every part of her with perfect skill—never too hard, or too soft, always seeming to know exactly where she was most sensitive and where to apply the exact right amount of pressure.

She missed two easy questions and stood up quickly to refill her drink.

“I can get it,” James said, also standing up with his own glass was three-quarters empty.

“No thanks,” Anika said, shaking her head.

She had to pass him to get to the bar. As she brushed by, she could smell that he still wore the same cologne, one that she had found for him originally. His scent, warm and rich and completely intoxicating, made her head swim so that she could barely walk straight.

The smell of him, so familiar and attractive to her, brought back a hundred memories in a rush. The way he used to look at her, like she was the only person in the world. The way he used to make her laugh until her whole body ached. The way she trusted him completely, knowing that he would never hurt her, that he would do absolutely anything for her.

God, how could she have thrown that away? Her misery was like a pit of tar, sucking her down. There was no escaping it.

She allowed herself to think the thoughts she had shoved down inside for years:

What if I never love anyone the way I loved James?

What if I can never be happy again the way I was with him?

What if no one understands me like he did?

What if everyone I’m with, forevermore, I weigh against him, and they’re nothing but a shadow by comparison?”

She stood at the bar, looking back toward their table. She hoped against all hopes that James would be watching her too, that she would see on his face that he was remembering some of the same things.

But he wasn’t looking at her at all. He was sitting next to Hannah, their heads close together as Hannah showed him something on her phone.

You have to let this go,Anika thought.He doesn’t love you anymore. It’s gone, and you can’t get it back.

* * *

9

The final week leading up to the Red Line Gala was so frantic that every time Anika laid her head on her pillow at night, it seemed only a moment until her alarm rung again. A thousand things had to be confirmed or reorganized and rearranged to accommodate last-minute changes.

This would have been difficult under ordinary circumstances, but additional complications arose when Stella decided she needed to involve herself in the planning. The reason for her sudden helpfulness was obvious: Marco Moretti was coming to town at last, and his father would be bringing him to the gala to meet them all.

Of course Stella couldn’t bear to be introduced to the object of her ambitions at an event where she played the role of a mere guest. She intended to appear to full advantage as hostess, philanthropist, and general center of attention.

None of this would be a problem if she weren’t insisting on putting her own finishing touches on everything from the floral arrangements to the lighting to the guest list.

“There aren’t enough celebrities coming,” she complained. “Half the people on this list are hideous old bats.”

“I don’t care,” Anika snapped back, under far too much stress to give Stella half her usual patience. “I don’t care if they’re a hundred years old—I only care if they’re willing to donate. This is a fundraiser, remember? We’re way over budget on the gala, and we need to bring in a record number of donations to pay our overhead and meet our goals.”

Stella made a disgusted face. She hated the word “budget,” which was somewhere on par with “counterfeit purse” and “no tables available” on her list of wretched things.

“Your forehead gets so wrinkled when you’re mad,” Stella said. This was the ultimate insult in her mind.

“Does it?” Anika said, with deadly calm. “Maybe I should use your Botox girl. I heard Marina Benez say that she does such good work, she could almost believe you’re only thirty like your Instagram profile claims.”

Stella was so shocked to be slapped back by her usually placid sister that she actually kept quiet for five entire minutes. Soon, she was back to complaining about the choice of musicians, but with much less spirit.

At that moment, Gwen, Hannah, James, and Calvin returned from whatever errands they’d been running. Only Calvin greeted Stella with enthusiasm. He would readily admit that while Stella was a bitch, she was just the kind of sexy bitch he would love to be bossed around by if she could only be convinced to notice he existed.

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