Inside, people were still milling about and socializing. I could no longer see the actress I’d spotted before; perhaps she’d only been there to make an appearance and left after having done her duty. Maybe I should follow in her footsteps, I thought. Leave as soon as we’d met with Mr. Barnaby, and I’d done what I was brought here for.

I followed Tommy past important looking men and their stunning, often much younger, dates. We passed more waiters with champagne, and I snagged another glass, knowing I’d need it for what was about to come and especially after what Tommy had done to me in the garden. It was almost surreal like it never even happened. A cold night’s dream that would soon fade once touched with the morning light.

Tommy seemed to have already forgotten it. He was all business now.

At the opposite end of the hall was a large circle of older men dressed in black tuxedos. I knew Douglas Barnaby’s face from billboards and town adverts. He was standing in the prime position, all focus on him, surrounded by the others. Though it wasn’t hard to miss him. He stood out from the sea of black; wearing an all-white suit with a black bowtie, his large belly was rumbling with a deep hearty laugh we could hear above the piano and other conversations.

Tommy approached the circle and waited patiently for a gap. While we were waiting, someone touched my elbow, and I spun around in surprise.

I was shocked to see Matilda, one of the bookshop’s most frequent customers. She was an older woman, in her late 80s at least, but still sharp as a tack. She spent most of her days perusing the aisles of books and reading to children on Sundays. I always looked forward to seeing her face in the shop and to her stories. I’d sit with the children and their parents and listen rapturously along with them to the scratchy sounds of the sweet woman’s voice.

“Shae? Is that you? It can’t be…” she asked.

Maybe it was the booze, or the frustration at the mixed signals from Tommy, or the fact that Matilda’s stories were my only solace after Dad passed, but seeing my old acquaintance almost caused me to cry.

I squealed and wrapped my arms around the delicate woman’s skinny frame. Matilda laughed and squeezed me back. When I released her, Tommy was staring at me in unconcealed horror. But I paid him no mind.

Oh, how I’d missed her. Matilda was practically the only person I found I could talk truthfully to about Dad and my feelings. When you’re sad, people treat you like you have some sort of deadly disease, like it’s catching if they get too close. That the sadness would seep into them the longer they stayed around you. They get impatient for you to be “better.” Matilda, on the other hand, didn’t treat me like I was contagious. She would listen quietly and then tell me some profound piece of wisdom in her thick, syrupy voice, or even better stayed quiet and held me when the tears inevitably came.

“Do you two know each other?” Tommy asked, still shocked and mildly horrified.

“Yes, of course, Ms. Matilda was my favorite customer at the bookshop I used to work at. What are you doing here?” I said and turned my attention back to my friend.

The informality of seeing Matilda juxtaposed with the strict, primness I’d been observing all evening struck me as somewhat funny.

She laughed again, kindly. “Oh, my dear. The secret is out I suppose. I wasn’t a customer.” She gave my arm a good-natured squeeze. “I own the bookshop.”

“Shae,” Tommy said, with gravity, “This is Matilda Barnaby.”

“What?” I gasped.

“I’m Dougie’s mother!” she exclaimed.

I stared at Tommy then at Matilda, utterly confused.

“And who is this handsome fella, Shae?” she asked.

My heart was overwhelmed with seeing Matilda. She was like a warm bed at the end of a long and tiring day. She was like a grandmother’s hug, or a cup of tea, or a ray of sunshine. It was awfully tricky of her never telling me her last name, but thinking back it did make sense why she spent so much time there. But I couldn’t tell her who Tommy was without blowing the whole fabricated act I’d been brought along to promote. I couldn’t lie to Matilda. Instead, I was rendered speechless.

Tommy stepped in, his chest puffed with importance, “I’m her fiancé,” he declared.

A wash of guilt overwhelmed me.

Matilda’s hands flew to her face. She extended an arm and grabbed my hand with aged fingers, her smile escaping from beneath her other hand still clamped to her mouth. Her eyes sparkled brightly. I wanted to back away and tell her that it was a big misunderstanding, regardless of how I felt for Tommy.

“Oh, my dear, that is such wonderful news! Congratulations! Here, I’ll introduce you to my Dougie. He always enjoys a good love story.”

Still in shock she dragged me by the hand (with surprising strength for such an old woman) to meet her son. Before we had stopped short in front of the group, but she plowed right through, the men around Douglas Barnaby parted ways, no doubt familiar with Matilda’s temper (it matched her sweetness in intensity).

“Dougie dear, this young woman,” she said, thrusting me in front of the man, “is the reason your dear old mother has kept her youthful glow all these years. Shae, this is my son, Douglas.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Barnaby.”

“Thank you for not calling me Dougie,” he said with a laugh. I returned his easy smile.

Matilda was almost jumping with excitement. “And this young man is her fiancé! Sorry, what was your name, dear?”

“Thomas Carver, sir,” said Tommy, extending his hand to meet Mr. Barnaby’s.

The men behind us were watching with exasperated expressions, no doubt feeling jealous of the young lawyer who’d jumped to the front of the line—so to speak—to meet the most prestigious man at the event. Chances were, more than half the people here had come not for charity, but for the sole purpose of impressing Douglas Barnaby and getting on his good side.

“Carver? Ah, like Lawrence and Carver? The firm? If I’m not mistaken you’re in the running to man our legal division next year, is that right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’ve made quite a name for yourself, young man, I’ll give you that. And you seem to have found quite the woman while you were at it. She’s certainly made an impact on my mother.” He smiled fondly at me. It felt nice to have someone tell Tommy he was lucky to be with me rather than the other way around.

“That’s very important, you know. Taking time for yourself and the ones you love. We get so caught up in business, business, business, that it’s easy to forget what’s important,” Mr. Barnaby continued.

“Oh now you’ve got him started,” his mother interjected, nudging me and smiling. “He won’t shut up now.”

“Well, it’s true! There’s no personal touch anymore. No more informal coffee chats at bookshops or at a ball game. I miss those days. Instead it’s all clinical, business done in soulless boardrooms. It’s not good, I tell you. Not good for the soul. You’ll do well to take a cue from your bride-to-be. It’s about community. That’s where it starts.”

“I couldn’t agree more, sir,” Tommy said and nodded.

“Good, good!” said Mr. Barnaby, patting Tommy heftily on the back. “See Mother, this young man agrees with me.”

Matilda smiled and rolled her eyes.

“We must get together and discuss this further, Thomas. I would love to hear your thoughts. I’m leaving town tomorrow for a business meeting, but I’ll be back on Thursday, let’s set up a time to meet. We can even go over some business if it takes our fancy. But for now, we’re at a party! So let’s celebrate young love!” He raised his glass, and the circle of men watching us did the same.

We all took polite sips. Douglass Barnaby gulped his merrily, and his cheeks shone with a rosy hue.

“So how’d you two meet?” he asked. I glanced over at Tommy; he was smiling a big, blushing smile, the nervous tension he’d held in his had dissipated.

Tommy looked at me with grateful sincerity and gave a little wink. “We’re high school sweethearts!” he said with a laugh.

* * *

We left the circle of men laughing and in high-spirits. Douglas Barnaby’s laughter and good-natured humor had been so contagious I’d managed to get over some of the guilt I felt lying to Matilda. It was good to know there were still down to earth billionaires in the world.

We stopped to listen to the speeches and larger donations that were showcased on the stage. Tommy was glowing with confidence. For a moment, I wondered what it would be like to actually be engaged to him. He could be so funny and charming when he wasn’t being a selfish bastard, but perhaps that was all due to the pressure and worry he’d been feeling these last few weeks? I couldn’t be sure, but was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt for the moment.

Every time I thought about the kiss and the way he’d touched me in the garden, my stomach would flip, and my legs would tingle again with renewed excitement. When he wasn't a giant tool, he was actually really sweet. And now that the meeting with Douglas Barnaby was over, his body language had changed ever so slightly; he kept his chest angled toward me, his hand lightly on my elbow or around my waist when he guided us through the crowds.

Even during the speeches, our bodies became so close, even though the room wasn’t crowded. Sometimes his fingers trailed possessively along my upper arm, and he would lower his lips to my ear to make jokes about the speakers.

For the first time, being with him felt easy. Every time he whispered in my ear, my arms erupted in goosebumps. The air inside the hall was stuffy and warm, but it didn’t stop me from shivering, my body quivering with anticipation, for what may come.

The night seemed to exist outside of time. I didn’t hear a word the speakers said, all I could see and feel was Tommy, his large, masculine body pressed up against mine. I made eye contact with Matilda, and she gave me a wink and a thumbs up. I could have lived in that night forever.

But as we were leaving my curiosity got the better of me, and I asked him, “What did you mean before, about what I said in high school? We never spoke. I would’ve remembered if we had. Trust me on that.”

His brows furrowed and he shook his head. He broke off from the exiting crowd, and I followed him to a bench set in front of the mansion. We sat. He looked uncomfortable.

Finally, after a long pause, he said, “You didn’t say it to me, you said it to your friends.”

“Said what? Tommy, tell me.”

He sighed as if he were recalling a particularly painful memory. “I was standing nearby, and they were giving you a hard time about me having a crush on you, and you said…” he stopped, he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, he brought a hand up to his temple and then laced both hands together in front of him. He looked at the floor. “You said you would never be interested in someone like me. You said it was no wonder my mom had left.”

He looked up at me. In his eyes, I saw the hurt of a seventeen-year-old boy still reeling from the sharp edge of those words.

But I had never said that Nicole had said it. I looked back at him, horrified. All of a sudden the dirty looks and animosity that I’d experienced since working for him started to make some sort of sense. Was this the reason why he never spoke to me? Was this part of the reason why he left school? I closed my eyes and thought of all the could-have-beens.

“Tommy, look at me. I would never ever say something like that, I promise you.” I said then swallowed the lump in my throat. “I had the biggest crush on you in high school...”

“But, I heard you.”

“It wasn’t me. Someone did say that, but it wasn’t me, Tommy. It was Nicole.”

“Who?”

“Nicole. The girl that sat with me in the library every day. She was technically my best friend at the time. Surely you remember her? The pretty one who you stared at all the time?”

“I wasn’t staring at her,” he said, pensively, milling over the revelation. “I was staring at you.”