“Oh, Morgan.” She sighs. “You’re here to enjoy. Don’t you worry.”
I eye her suspiciously. “Let me help.”
“Well, jump in anywhere if you insist.” She finally smiles. “Just don’t forget to have fun, too.” She winks and leans in to kiss me on the cheek. I plan to enjoy myself, just not the way she’s probably thinking.
Soon the doors open and people swarm in. I walk in between people, greeting and welcoming them to the event. I keep my eyes out for Aspen, wanting any excuse to look at her. She looks completely flawless, smiling and chatting. I hear a sweet laugh come from her, which completely lights up the room. I wish I could wrap my arm around her and claim her for everyone to see. But I know I can’t, and I know I sound ridiculous for even wanting to claim her, but I can’t help the way she affects me.
I haven’t felt this way in years, and I feel high just thinking about it. There’s no doubting that everything about her consumes me. I’ve been infatuated with her for weeks and now that I know what her lips and body pressed against me feels like, I only want more. More of her.
Everything is going amazing until I see that douchebag, Shane, walk up to her. She keeps her eyes low, but his hand on her arm doesn’t go unnoticed. In fact, my blood boils at just the sight of him.
I hate that she even gives him the time of day, but I know we can’t go public with whatever we are. It’s too new to even discuss it at this point. However, that doesn’t mean I want to watch another guy draped all over her.
After a few minutes of balling my hands into fists, I decide to interrupt their little chat. I grab two champagne glasses off a tray and walk over to her. “You looked like you could use a drink.”
“Well, thank you,” she says, grabbing it and turning her body toward me.
Shane clears his throat and grabs Aspen’s attention back. “Oh, Morgan, this is Shane. Shane this is Morgan, Ms. Jones’ nephew.” I don’t want to be anywhere near the guy, especially not touch him, but I plaster a fake smile and shake the moron’s hand.
“Ah, the nephew. Explains why you’re here then.”
We release hands, and I furrow my brows. “Excuse me?”
“Oh, nothing.” His eyes scan over me and then move to Aspen, his lips tilting up into a knowing smirk.
What the fuck does that mean?
“You’re working at the school, right?” he asks as if to throw it in my face.
“He’s my art professor,” Aspen interrupts. Although she means to take the focus off me, she ends up only encouraging him.
“Well, you know what they say? Those that can’t do, teach.” He pats me on the shoulder with a tight squeeze and excuses himself.
My eyes narrow as I watch him walk away. If I didn’t have an appearance to uphold, I’d punch him until I saw blood.
“Ignore him,” Aspen says, annoyance in her tone. “He’s an idiot.”
“Clearly.”
She cocks her head and a small smile surfaces. “Seriously…he’s not even worth being pissed over. He’s a decent guy normally, but he’s just mad I won’t go out with him.”
“You won’t?” My brow arches. Does that mean he sees me as a threat then?
“Don’t act so surprised. I do have standards, you know.” She grins.
“Good to know.” I take a sip of my champagne and continue staring at her.
“I have to get to my exhibit. People are starting to wonder around and Ms. Jones will have a mini heart attack if I don’t get a few buyers.”
“Well, you’d have a buyer in me, but I can’t seem to find what I’m looking for.”
“Is that so?” she asks as the realization hits, biting her lip. “You wanted to buy one of mine?”
“Of course. I’d only been asking you to put a piece in for the past month.” I know the student pieces aren’t for sale, but I would’ve made Ms. Jones make an exception for me.
“Well, you could’ve told me. Or just asked.”
I lean in and softly whisper in her ear, “And what fun would that have been?” I lean back and wink at her.
I sip back the last of my drink and walk back through the crowd. I know she has a job to do so I busy myself with the silent auction.
An hour passes since I’ve felt her body against mine, rather pinned her against the wall and made love to her lips, and yet I’m anxious to be near her again. I want to know what she’s doing, what she’s thinking, and if she’s thinking the same thing I am.
Kissing her feels like an addiction—one I don’t ever want to recover from. It felt different from before—much more intense and passionate. It’s validated everything I’ve been wondering about.
Walking around from painting to painting with a glass of champagne in my hand, a tap on my shoulder grabs my attention. I spin around and nearly lose my grip on the stem of the glass when I see her.
“Hi, stranger.” She flashes a small smile and my jaw ticks at the sweetness of her voice.
“What are you doing here, Jen?” I hiss, keeping my voice low.
“I had a ticket. Small world.”
I clench my teeth together. “Not that small.”
“Your mother told me you’d be here. Aunt Mel put my name on the list.”
I swallow back the rest of the champagne before setting it down. “Well, have a good time.” I take a step to walk around her, but she grabs me by the arm and pushes me back. “What are you doing?”
“I just want to talk.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“After being gone for five years, there’s plenty to talk about.”
I sigh, irritated she’s cornered me, but I don’t want to make a scene so I agree. “You have five minutes.”
She flashes a victorious smile, but I ignore it. She follows me out into a quiet hall in the back of the gallery.
“Okay, so what is it?” I shove my hands in my front pockets and lean away from her.
“You look really good, Morgan.”
“Cut the shit, Jen.”
“Wow…” She shakes her head. “Even after five years, you still hate me.”
“What were you expecting?”
“Maybe some understanding?”
My brows arch. “Understanding? You want me to understand why you decided to fuck around on me?”
“You were gone, Morgan! All the time! All you did was work and when you weren’t working, you were painting. For hours!”
“That’s your excuse? Hard work and dedication are your reasoning for cheating?” I choke a pathetic laugh.
“You never made time for me. You never made time for us! I tried to tell you. I tried talking to you, but you never wanted to leave the house.”
“That’s not true. Plus, if I wasn’t working, who’d you expect to pay off your student loans?”
“You still could’ve made time for us. It was as if you just gave up.” Her features soften, and I know she’s about to release the waterworks any minute.
“No,” I say sternly. “You’re the one who gave up. You’re the one who went behind my back and screwed Ryan. You’re the one who broke us, not me.” I don’t even know why I’m entertaining this conversation. It’s one I’d been trying to avoid this whole time.
I start to walk away, but she pleads for me to stay. “Don’t go! I’m sorry, okay?”
“Yeah, sorry. A lot of good that does me now.”
“Your mother’s been able to forgive me. Why can’t you?”
I spin around and face her. “Because I’m not that dense,” I say harshly, my eyes cold and empty as I hear her pathetic pleas.
“I’m not here for me, I swear.” I look down and notice the impressive diamond on her left hand. I imagined for years what it’d feel like to run into her again after all this time, but one thing I wasn’t counting on was having an audience nearby. But now it didn’t matter. I can look at her and not feel a single thing for her. Those feelings I once had for her are long gone, which have been replaced with resentment and anger.