I was just about to find my father and tell him that I’d had enough when the hair on my arms began to stand on end. Something about the air in the room changed. It felt electrified. I caught a glimpse of a girl walking by, heading toward the exit of the hotel ballroom. Her light brown hair was piled on top of her head. She walked up to the guy my mother had been brown-nosing all night and kissed him on each cheek. He brought her in for a hug, then whispered something in her ear.
Something about her was very familiar. I started to head in her direction.
“Cale? Cale, darling, I’d like you to meet someone.” My mother grabbed my arm and pulled me to a stop. I turned to see a young girl standing there, smiling. She couldn’t have been more than eighteen.
“Ashley Jackson, This is my son Cale. Cale, this is Ashley. Her daddy owns a condominium housing development on Beaver Lake.”
I glanced at my mother and smiled before turning to Ashley.
“Really? I just bought a house on Beaver Lake.”
Lucy smiled. My mother didn’t.
“What? You bought a house? By yourself?”
I slowly looked down at my mother. “Yes, Mommy Dearest. I bought a house, by myself. I have this thing called a job. I work for my money.”
Ashley covered her mouth with one hand in an attempt to hide her laughter. My mother’s mouth fell open, and she stood there, stunned into silence. I downed the rest of my wine and set the glass on the tray of a passing waiter. I glanced back and saw the brown-haired girl leaving the room.
“Ashley, if you’ll excuse me. I really have to run. Mother, it was good seeing you again.”
“Cale, you’re being rude, darling.”
Glancing over to Ashley I smiled. “Ashley, excuse my rudeness. I really have to get going. Tell Dad I said goodnight, Mom.”
I turned and quickly made my way to the exit. When I pushed open the doors, I started jogging toward the elevators. The doors were shutting, but not before I caught a glimpse at her. She was staring down at her phone, her face hidden in shadow. She appeared to be crying.
The doors shut and, just like that, she was gone.
“Fuck,” I whispered.
I pulled out my cell. I had the photo I was looking for saved in a specific folder. I tapped the screen and pulled up the picture.
There she was with her light brown hair and the most beautiful green eyes I’d ever seen. I studied her face as I stood in front of the elevator. When the doors opened, I stepped in and pushed the button for the ground floor.
I was tired of feeling like this. Empty. Alone. Searching for someone I’d never see again.
I headed out to the front of the hotel and hailed a taxi. When it stopped, I opened the back door and slipped inside.
“Twenty-seven Downing Court, please,” I said to the driver.
Ten minutes later, I was walking into my apartment and throwing my keys on the side table. I grabbed a beer and I headed for the sofa. As I sank into the cushions, I let out a sigh.
I turned on the TV and channel surfed as I drank. After a few minutes, I texted Jack.
Me: What are you doing?
Jack: Just got done fucking my date in the ally outside her apartment. You done hobnobbing?
Me: Yep.
Jack: Want to meet for a few beers?
I stared at Jack’s text. If we went out, I’d end up getting drunk. I was too pissed off at my mother not to. It was always like this. Every time I saw her, I ended up going out and drowning my sorrows in beer. Way too much beer.
Me: Nah. I’m gonna head to bed.
Jack: Pussy.
I laughed as I got up and set my phone on the table next to my empty beer bottle. I walked into my bedroom, stripped out of my clothes and crawled into bed.
Another night all alone. I thought.
I closed my eyes and all I could see were green eyes.
Maddie…
“COME ON, MADDIE. Stop being such a drama queen.” Zoey said as we walked through the airport.
I attempted to hold my frustration back. The one time I really wanted to bitch about my mother, Zoey wouldn’t hear it. Zoey complained constantly about her parents. Her mother was always on her back to find someone and settle down. Zoey, on the other hand, wanted to live life on the edge. Her rare autoimmune disease had led her to live her life each day like it was her last. In a way, I envied her for that. I think almost dying last year had really thrown her for a loop.
I stopped and looked at Zoey. Before I could say anything, she opened her mouth.
“Listen, I’m not trying to be a bitch, Maddie,” She said. “I’m really not. But that party was two days ago. So your mother humiliated you and made you leave the party in tears. So you broke down in an elevator and cried. Who gives a shit? Next time, tell the bat off!”
I was about to respond when the announcer came on. Zoey put her finger up to my mouth and said, “Shh, hush up.”
I closed my eyes and prayed for strength. If she weren’t my friend, and sick, I’d have knocked the hell out of her.
“That’s my plane boarding! Gotta go! Have fun in London while I’m in Jamaica!” She quickly kissed me on the cheek and skipped off toward her plane. I watched her as she walked away. She had on tight jeans and a blouse that you could practically see through. Her body was to die for, not soft like mine. I could stand to drop about ten pounds, but Monica said it made me look sexy with the added curves.
I was about to turn around when Zoey yelled, “Maddie! No fish and chips. Your ass is already getting bigger.”
My mouth dropped open as she laughed and waved to me before disappearing into the crowd.
“Bitch,” I whispered before turning to head for my gate. I just wanted to get this stupid trip out of the way and get back home.
THE GUY SITTING next to me at the bar had been eying me for a while when he asked, “What do you do for a living sweetheart?”
I smiled and replied, “I’m an import manager.”
“Nice. What brings you to London?”
I laughed. “Chocolate.”
He took a sip of his beer and said, “Chocolate huh? I’m pretty sure you have chocolate in the States.”
I took a sip of my wine and nodded. “Our supplier asked me to come with them to London. We were trend shopping. I’m helping them with their packaging before visiting the factory we ship from.”
He looked at me like I’d just spoken in another language.
He was from the States, too, and the wedding ring on his finger wasn’t lost on me. He turned to me and said, “Listen, babe, do you want to come up to my room or what? This small talk is getting old.”