Page 85 of Broken Headboards
My mind whispers the only possible reply:you’ll never forget him.
And, as screwed up as that is, I know that’s the truth. He’s the only man that has ever made me feel as if I don’t have anything to prove. He’s the only man that has ever made me feel in love.
How can you forget about something like that?
Is it even possible?
“Open up, Tess!” I hear Ashley shout from outside my door, banging her fist against it hard. “I’ll kick this door down if I have to! I’ve been going to the gym every single day and I’ve never skipped leg day, so—”
“Cool it, Rambo,” I laugh as I get the door. She takes one look at me and nods appraisingly.
“I thought you’d still be in your pajamas, and that I’d really have to drag you down into the lobby,” she marvels.
“Do you have that little faith in me?” I ask.
“In my experience, broken-hearted women are always a mess. They can’t be trusted to do anything besides eat ice-cream and watch Bridget Jones movies.”
“You’re insane, Ash,” I tell her, reminding myself not to tell her that eating ice-cream and watching reruns of old sappy romance movies is exactly what I’ve been doing. If I told her that, she’d probably drag me to the closest bar she could find and do her best to throw the hottest guys in my direction.
Sometimes, I can’t tell if she’s a caring friend or a loose cannon.
Maybe she’s a bit of both.
We take the elevator down, and I’m taken aback the moment it arrives on the bottom floor. When the doors slide back to let us through, I immediately notice the huge crowd that has taken over the lobby.
“What the hell’s going on?” I ask.
“No idea,” Ashley shrugs, grabbing my hand and dragging me after her, shoulders bumping against shoulders as we cut our way through the crowd. When we finally do it, my jaw drops.
Smack in the middle of the lobby is a whole apartment set in display. I glance at every single piece of furniture carefully arranged there, my eyes widening as I realize that, whoever set this up, took the best of what both Austin and I had to offer.
What the hell is going on?
Did they find another designer?
Who?
“Look at that!” Ashley says, genuinely impressed with the furniture.
My professional eye is working and I’m looking at the craftsmanship.
It’s got the aggressive and brash touches that Austin puts in Oakmont furniture, with the understated elegance and soft curves that I favor inDomina.
Whoever did this took from both of us.
They took the best of us.
We were good on our own. But together, we would have been great.
“What is going on?” I ask for the umpteenth time.
“Thank you all for gathering here on such a short notice,” I hear a man say, and my heart tightens up so much it almost bursts. Holding my breath, I watch as Austin appears from behind the set, confidently glancing at the crowd in front of him.
When his eyes catch mine, he smiles.
Residents in the lobby gather around. It’s a packed lobby, the invitation apparently not specifying what was going on.
“I know you all have questions about why you were called down here,” Austin begins as he looks around the room.
