Page 71 of Don't Remind Me
Dani
I needed pens.
The volunteers for tonight’s gala had arrived a half hour ago to finish setting everything up, and the box of silent auction materials was mysteriously missing pens. It was mysterious because I specifically remembered setting a bundle of HBC pens wrapped in a purple rubber band next to the stack of clipboards in the conference room for the volunteers to pack while I’d been running the panels yesterday, yet they still hadn’t made the trip.
But honestly? Considering all the things that could have gone wrong over the past three days of the symposium, missing pens was a problem I’d happily take.
I crossed the ballroom toward the hotel’s reception, the skirt of my gown grazing the carpet behind me. Tonight was the grand conclusion to this event and probably the most important part. The first two days had gone exceptionally well, starting with a lively cocktail hour followed by yesterday’s speakers, both punctuated by Jase’s spectacular food. The virtual panel had especially been a success.
Of the hundreds who had registered, I’d expected maybe half to actually attend live, but it had been more. The panelists had led with the pre-submitted questions, and I’d pulled follow-up questions and comments from the chat to turn it into a true discussion. The chat itself had been a bit of a mess with plenty of arguments between attendees, but our speakers were never subjected to it, which kept things moving smoothly.
Talia, Director Gardner, and the panelists had all been thrilled. My favoriteCitizen Dailyjournalist Bill Sewick had been in virtual attendance and had lots to say in a new article he’d published this morning—pretty much more of the same. But other outlets had covered the panel too, most sharing at least some of the information our experts had spoken about, which had been the point of the panel in the first place: to get the truth out there.
Now, it was time to raise some cash so this clinic could become a reality.
Just as I reached the ballroom doors, Jase emerged from the kitchen and stopped short. His stare latched onto me, and my heart stumbled in my chest.
I missed him.
Which was completely absurd. It wasn’t like I’d gone weeks without talking to him; I’d seen him every day of the symposium.
But I hadn’t been sleeping in his bed these past few nights, hadn’t been eating breakfast with him these past mornings, hadn’t been telling him about my day when I got home. We’d hardly had the time to text with both of us going nonstop to pull this event off.
Tonight, though. Tonight, I could go home with him, collapse in his arms, and let him peel my dress off me the way he looked like he was imagining doing right now.
When I’d checked in on the kitchen a few hours ago, I’d still been in the jeans and tank top I wore to set up. I’d since transformed, changing into my deep purple gown with a slit up one leg, my hair twisted into a low bun that Robin pinned for me, my makeup a little heavier, a little more glamorous than usual.
“Hi,” I said, stopping a few feet away from him.
I itched to get closer, to stand within his grasp and breathe in his warm scent, but I liked the way he was looking at me more.
He made a slow prowl of his eyes down my body and back up again like he’d never seen anything so beautiful. It made mefeelbeautiful. Not self-conscious like I sometimes felt when I dressed up, as if I’d put on another mask even less recognizable from the one I wore every other day.
Instead, his gaze made me feelreal. Grounded in myself more than ever. Proud of who I was and what I’d accomplished this weekend. Beautiful for more than just the dress I wore or the color on my lips.
His hand tightened around the strap of the duffel bag hanging from his shoulder, and when his eyes finally reached mine, they burned bright enough to light me on fire.
He cleared his throat. “Hi.”
Tonight.
Tonight, I could gaze into his eyes for as long as I wanted and fall asleep under their tender watch. Then tomorrow, he and I could figure out what came next.
But first, I needed pens.
I flashed him a smile. “I’m on an errand. The kitchen’s all set?”
“Good to go. The first course will be ready at six on the dot.”
“Been looking forward to it all day.” I dreamed about this menu sometimes. Not even kidding.
He smirked. “Let’s hope it lives up to expectations.”
“You always do.”
His nostrils flared, and he nodded down the hall. “Go. Before I start kissing you, because God knows I won’t stop.”
My lungs expanded with warmth, and I forced my feet to take steps backward before turning from him altogether. I shot him a last glance over my shoulder, bubbles of giddiness fluttering in my chest at how tensely he held himself as he watched me walk away. Like it took physical effort for him not to follow.
