Chapter Nine
Katie
I thought that seeing Trent Moore again would be easy. It’s been over a year—I should be over what happened. But meeting his eyes at the beginning of the party threw me off for the rest of the night.
Not only did he remind me that my son is at home and that he’ll never know his father, but it also brought back memories of our passionate love affair. I haven’t slept with anyone since that incredible night with Trent, but my traitorous body appears to be ready to get back into bed just at the sight of him. I can feel my pussy getting wet as I take in his form, toned and muscular as ever, but I vow to not give in to the asshole who wouldn’t take my calls.
Lizzy noticed early on that I was shaken, so she tried to make me feel better, thinking that I was acting strangely because I miss my son. She showed me funny videos on her phone until I laughed, and then sent me to the kitchen to oversee the dinner preparation. I hid there, only entering the dining room when absolutely necessary. There were a few near misses when I came close to an awkward, angry conversation with Trent. I dodged him every time, knowing it was better for both of us to avoid a confrontation in front of his esteemed guests.
As tempted as I am to scream at the man who made love to me and then disappeared from my life without so much as a text, I know it’s not a good idea. I have baby Trentie now, and he’s all I need. I convince myself that tonight is just a small blip, and my child and I will move on from this without looking back.
Still, as the waiters and waitresses bring stacks of dirty dessert plates back into the kitchen, I know that time is running short. I won’t be able to duck out before the place has cleared, and Trent Moore is the host. He’ll be the last one to leave. There’s a back exit through the kitchen that leads to a scary alley I’d have to walk through to reach my car in the employee parking lot. I could take the exit and avoid any risk of running into Trent. But I’d also risk being mugged, and that risk is too great for me.
Lizzy squeezes my shoulder. “You’ve almost made it. Just an hour or so and you get to head home to play with your baby.”
I picture Trentie, already asleep in his crib, and smile. She’s right. I can handle another hour, dodge Trent Moore, and get home to my child. That’s all I need.
“The last of the guests are finishing their drinks. Would you mind helping gather up plates and such? The sooner we clean up, the sooner we can clear out,” Lizzy says, trying to be helpful.
“Of course.” Honestly, there’s nothing I’d rather do less than go out to where Trent is, but I can’t not help out when I came here tonight to do just that.
I grab an empty tray and hoist it onto my shoulder. I worked my way through college as a waitress, and this isn’t the first time I’ve assisted my staff with cleanup. Lizzy’s right—getting the cleanup done quickly means getting home earlier. No one want to stay at a venue longer than necessary.
Unless they happen to be naked in bed with the best lover they’ve ever had.
I shake the thought from my head and scurry into the kitchen. Our cleanup strategy is always to take the furthest tables first and work our way toward the middle. I find the table farthest from the kitchen that has yet to be cleared and start loading my tray with empty plates, bowls, and glasses. Once I’ve stacked the entire table’s worth of dirty dishes onto my tray, I lift it back onto my shoulder and walk carefully to the kitchen.
This action is repeated six more times without incident. I’m a little out of shape, not having done any heavy lifting beyond taking Trentie out of his crib for the last several months. Even so, I’m able to keep up with the other members of my crew. I’m running mostly on adrenaline and the excitement of getting home to kiss my son’s little head.
I glance at my watch on my way to my next table and bump into someone. Immediately, I look up to apologize to the guest. “I’m so sor—” I freeze, finding myself face to face with Trent Moore.
“Fancy meeting you here,” he says coolly. His handsome face has barely changed since the last time I saw him over a year ago. The only difference is that he doesn’t have stubble tonight, which makes him actually look younger, but just as hot. I want to run my hands down his clean-shaven jaw and kiss that smirk off his face, but resist the urge.
“I’m busy,” I tell him, forcing my voice to stay calm. “We need to get this cleaned up quickly so we can get out of here.”
I start to grab a plate, but Trent places a gentle hand on mine, and I hate that his touch sends thrills down my spine. “It can wait, or your staff can handle this.”
“I don’t want to speak to you,” I tell him, trying to curb my anger.
“Well, I think I deserve an explanation.”
“Explanation?” My voice is quiet. I can hardly believe what I’m hearing. I look up at him and I see the same anger in his eyes that I feel right now. “Why the hell would you deserve an explanation, you self-centered, big-headed, asshole!”
Luckily, there are no guests left in the room to hear my outburst. My employees are staring at me though, frozen in shock and awkwardness. They’ve never seen me like this before. I take a deep breath and shoot them a fake smile.
“Nothing to see here, guys. Sorry about that outburst.”
It takes a few seconds, but they get back to their respective jobs in silence. I sense their eyes still firmly on me as they clean up the tables, but at least they’re moving now. I look back at Trent, who’s staring at me, those blue eyes ripping me apart. I don’t let him in. If I do, I know I’ll crumble and fall to pieces.
“I need to work,” I tell him calmly. “Please leave. You don’t need to be here for the cleanup. Your guests are gone, and you’re free to go.”
Trent barks a bitter laugh. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”
“I don’t want to talk to you,” I repeat, not letting him get to me.
“Yes, you’ve made that abundantly clear, but I’d like to know why.”
I stare at him, now intrigued. Is he trying to say it’s my fault we haven’t been in touch since our amazing encounter? He’s even more of an asshole than I thought. For the first time, I’m glad he doesn’t know we have a child together.
“Please leave, Trent.”
“Not until we talk,” he says, his voice harsh. I meet his eyes and see something there. Confusion. Fear. Lust. I see the same things in myself when I look in the mirror, thinking of him.
As much as I hate it, my resistance fades away. Curiosity and a morbid desire to end up in Trent’s bed again lead me to my decision.
“Fine,” I say, resigned. “Let’s talk. But not here.”
I walk ahead of him despite his long strides, leading us to the entryway of the venue. We stop in the hallway, out of earshot from my employees, and away from anyone else who might listen in on our conversation. This is a conversation I don’t want another soul to hear.
“Okay. Talk.” I stand, facing him, with my arms crossed snugly over my large chest. His eyes scan my body, pausing over my breasts, maybe remembering the last time we were together, his mouth on my nipples….
“There’s something different about you,” he says slowly when he finishes his survey of my figure. “I can’t figure out what it is.”
He continues to study me. I wait for him to realize I’ve put on weight. After all, my breasts and larger and my hips even wider than before. But my expression is also tired and haggard. I don’t know him well enough to know if he’s intuitive about these things—if he can piece together the fact that I’ve had a baby. Inside, I laugh to myself. Of course he won’t figure it out. Never in a million years would he think pregnancy was in the picture.
“I’m not different,” I say, trying to be as vague as possible. My brain is working quickly in a panic to make sure he doesn’t find out. I don’t know what would happen if he did.
He sighs. “Your body has changed, but I know it’s been a year and people change. But there’s something else. It’s almost like you’re…glowing.”
My breath hitches. That’s a word they use describe pregnant women and new mothers. Glowing. Radiant. Happy. I do feel that way sometimes, but I didn’t know it was so obvious on the outside. The people close to me know I have a kid. My employees, of course, know that I took maternity leave until today. My neighbors, strangers on the street, they’ve all seen Trentie and me together. I haven’t intentionally kept him a secret from anyone except his father. But somehow, I wish I could cover up the fact that I’m glowing, and take back whatever happy aura I’m emitting. Because Trentie’s my precious secret, and mine alone.
“It’s from the exercise,” I say in a pathetic attempt to cover it up. “I was carrying heavy trays back and forth from the kitchen when you blindsided me.”
“It’s not that. I can’t put my finger on it, but—”
“Forget it. Is that what you wanted to talk about? Because if that’s all, I’m going back to help my team.”
I try to walk around him, but he swiftly takes a step and gets in my way. “That’s not what I wanted to talk about and you know it. I wanted to talk about how you left that morning and then never took any of my calls or answered my messages. You ghosted me, and I deserve to know why.”
I feel like I might pass out for the second time today. He thinks I ghosted him?
“You asshole!” I exclaim angrily, pushing his chest. “I never got a single call from you! I tried to call you so many times, and you wouldn’t accept my calls. I even came to see you and you couldn’t be bothered.”
Trent has the audacity to look confused. “Excuse me? I never received a single call from you. And if you had gone to my home, my staff would have informed me.”
I laugh mirthlessly. “Yeah, right. I called your company line over and over again, and I couldn’t get past the operator. It was like I was on a blacklist or something. And your butler and security guard can both vouch for me. I was at your mansion a year ago, Trent. I came to tell you—to talk to you.”
He jerks sharply.
“You didn’t,” is that growl. “I haven’t heard from you since we last met.”
I shake my head, suddenly tired. Because what is there to say? That we really missed each other dozens of times? That this man has been secretly craving me for over a year? Those are pipe dreams … and yet I can’t help but to hope.