Didi
Colonel Kingsley is stepping up to the podium to give his speech. I can see his wife, Jessa’s mom, standing to one side, smiling up at him proudly.
Zac is beside me, and I’m fully aware that all eyes are on us and not Colonel Kingsley. Even my mom is raising her glass to me across the crowd, her head cocked not so subtly in Zac’s direction.
Zac notices and raises his own glass. My mom smiles at him, and even from this distance I can see the blush rise across her cheeks. Even she isn’t immune to his charms, I note.
I scan the crowd and spot Walker over at the edge of the lawn. My heart kicks in my chest but my smile falters. He looks like he’s trapped with a woman in a kaftanlike flowery dress. She’s all over him like a rash, keeps trying to feed him cake, and I can see him nodding politely every now and then, but I can tell from his body language that he’s unhappy. His back is ramrod straight, his mouth is drawn into a line, and his nostrils are flaring.
I think about going over there to rescue him. This must be his idea of hell—all these people, all these obstacles, all this noise. At least they thought to cancel the fireworks. What’s stopping me from going over there? I sigh. Everything. Nothing. My dad. Zac. The knowledge that if I do I won’t be able to stop myself . . . From what? I ask myself angrily.
I glance sideways at Zac. I’m standing next to a film star. He’s impossibly gorgeous and seems to be completely into me, so why can’t I stop thinking about Walker? Am I deliberately trying to sabotage my shot at happiness? At what might turn out to be the real deal?
I study Zac’s clean-shaven cheek, the skin as smooth and flawless as a mannequin’s, the smile that shows off his perfect white teeth, and then I think of Walker’s rough stubble and the slightly sardonic smile that sometimes plays on his lips.
A voice in my head yells at me that I’m crazy, that Zac is the one, that I’m living the dream I’ve always yearned for. Zac glances my way as if sensing me staring and grins at me. I grin back at him but a bead of sweat is snaking down my spine.
Oh my God.
I want to be with Walker.
I’m drawn to him like a crazed, suicidal moth to a blazing bonfire.
I can’t stop my gaze returning to him again and again. A couple of times I catch him turning his head and seemingly scanning the lawn, and my heart shoots into the stratosphere. Is he trying to find me? Can he see? But then disappointment crushes me when his gaze passes over me. Even though I know he’s blind.
I’m here, I want to shout. I’m here.
More beads of sweat break out, this time on my brow. I swipe at them and give myself a fierce, silent talking-to. I can’t walk away from Zac for a guy who’s moody and messed-up and a hundred kinds of broken. And a hundred kinds of out of bounds.
That woman is trying to press a glass of something against his lips and my hands twitch. I take a step in his direction and stop myself. I have an overwhelming urge to place myself between them. I’ve never felt a surge of protectiveness like it before and it takes me completely by surprise. There’s a roar in my chest and it’s compounded by the applause that’s now broken out.
I realize that Colonel Kingsley has stopped talking and everyone is clapping.
Zac takes my arm. “I was wondering if I could take you out to dinner tonight, to say thanks for organizing my visit.”
“Oh, um,” I say, aware that we’re being looked at, that people are nudging each other all around us.
Say yes, you should say yes, the voice inside my head tells me. Only my tongue won’t obey.
And then, before I can answer, Valentina has placed herself between us. “I’m sorry,” she says, breathless and fanning herself with excitement. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but I just love you.”
I take a step back to give her some space. It’s clear she’s not talking to me. In fact, I’m not sure she’s even noticed I’m standing here.
Zac gives her a brilliant red-carpet smile. “Thanks,” he says.
“Could I just get a picture with you?” Valentina asks. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all,” Zac answers.
Valentina rustles through her bag for her phone and I think about taking advantage of the opportunity to edge backward and leave, but before I can, Zac grabs for my hand.
His thumb caresses my hand and Valentina notices and shoots me a dumbstruck look, her mouth falling open.
Zac drops my hand and turns back to Valentina. “Ready?” he asks, and he throws his arm around her shoulders and, taking her phone from her, takes a photo.
“Thank you, thank you!” Valentina says, scrolling straight through to check it’s come out okay. “Oh my God!” She clutches the phone to her chest and gives me another really unsubtle look—widening her eyes in Zac’s direction and looking as if she’s about to burst.
I shrug awkwardly.
“I’ll leave you two to it, then,” she says, winking at me. “You have a good day now. Oh, and try the guacamole. I made it.”
“I will. You have a great day too,” Zac answers, waving at her. He turns back to me and, still grinning, grabs for my hand. He pulls me away from the crowd and instantly, as though a switch has been flicked, his smile vanishes and a hard veneer replaces it. “Come on,” he says, and starts pulling me toward the doors to the canteen. “Let’s get away from this circus.”
It’s as if a mask has slipped and I’ve seen a glimpse of the real Zac. I start to protest, looking over my shoulder at Walker, but then I see that he’s now been joined by Dodds and also by Kit’s father, the Marine Corps chaplain. That woman in the flowery dress who was trying to force-feed him is still there, but I can see that Dodds is talking to her now.
I guess Walker doesn’t need me.
I let Zac lead me back inside.