Despite all of that, I still feel a pang of jealousy going through me again at the potential client who holds Brett’s attention in a way I can only dream of.
Realizing I have sat for too long after asking to be excused, I get to my feet to stumble through the crowd and find the bathroom. God, what am I doing? How have I let Brett get so far under my skin so quickly?
I use the toilet and go to the sink to wash my hands. I leave my hands under the cool water for a moment until I feel like I have myself back under some sort of control. I have to get a grip of myself and start acting like a professional, instead of some love sick teenager. Ideally, before Brett notices I’m acting oddly.
It’s probably already too late for that, but if I can find a way to start acting like my normal self again, then hopefully Brett will think he just imagined the strange moment between us where our thighs were pressed together and my hand lingered on his arm for just a little too long.
7
I’ve been standing here in the bathroom trying to talk some sense into myself for far too long and now I’m too nervous to come back out. How am I going to explain to Brett why I’ve been in here for almost ten minutes? He’s probably going to think I’ve been throwing up or something after the amount of wine he’s seen me guzzling. It’s really not an image I want him having in his mind when he thinks of me.
I can’t just stay in here all night though. The longer I spend in here agonizing over coming back out, the longer I’ll be missing and the worse it’ll be when I finally do go back to Brett. Inspiration comes to me and the answer is so obvious I give out a soft laugh. I’ll just say I ran into someone I knew and I was talking to them.
God, I’m losing my actual fucking mind here. As if I couldn’t think of that sooner. What the hell is wrong with me? Is it the wine? Brett’s effect on me? Both of those things? It’s most likely a combination of both.
I swiftly dry my hands and step out of the bathroom. I shake my head at myself and my own paranoia. The party is in full swing now with more people up dancing and those sitting around seem to be laughing and having a good time now, rather than talking business quite so much. So no one will have even noticed how long I’ve been gone. Especially not Brett. And even if he has noticed, it isn’t as if he’s going to care. He’s only here with me because he has no choice. It’s not like he would have chosen to bring me.
This thought should make me feel better, but instead, it gives me a twisty, crampy feeling in my stomach. As much as it pains me to admit it, I want him to have noticed. To have noticed and maybe even be a little bit worried about me.
Damnit Opal, get a grip of yourself. You’re not fifteen. Stop acting like you are.
I’m almost back at the piano room when I feel my purse vibrating. I stop to open it and pull my phone out. I’m getting a call from an unknown number. I rarely answer my personal phone to numbers I don’t know and I go to push my phone back into my purse when I change my mind. It could be Mr. Connell calling from the hospital. It makes sense that he would call if he’s awake to see how the dinner party is going and to check in and see if we’re getting anywhere with the leads.
Mr. Connell will be angry with me if I ignore his call…if I don’t answer, he might call Brett instead. “Hello,” I say as I take the call.
I can hear a male voice, obviously I was right and the call is from Mr. Connell, but the music is too loud for me to make out the words. I’m just glad I took the call. “I can’t hear you properly. Hang on a moment please,” I say, hoping he can hear me.
Looking around for a quieter spot, I see a pair of double glass doors pushed open letting in some fresh air. I move over to the doors and peer outside. The doors lead to a pretty patio area, decked out in sandy colored wood and decorated with an array of small bushes and flowers in pots. The area is encased with a decorative wooden fence and a little gate leads out and down into the main gardens.
Moving away from the house, I head to the small fence, resting my elbows on it and looking out into the garden. I can still hear the music drifting on the air, but it’s quiet now, like I can hear it in the distance. I bring my phone back up to my ear. “I’m sorry Mr. Connell. The music was rather loud inside and I couldn’t hear you. What can I do for you?”
“Mr. Connell huh?” The voice is low and filled with a kind of mean amusement. I recognize that voice instantly. Gary, my ex-boyfriend. I feel my heart sink. I never should have taken the call, but it’s not like I was expecting Gary to somehow have my new number.
Gary and I broke up a couple of months ago. We had been dating for a while and I was starting to think the relationship might be going somewhere, but as we spent more time together, Gary started to reveal his true colors and I found that I didn’t much like the person he hid under the charming act. He would act get jealous and controlling. He didn’t like me going out with my friends. He didn’t even like me going to work. And he
