Act.
Enjoy.
Regret.
Push away.
Yearn.
Obsess.
Justify.
Obsess.
Turn against those who keep them from their addiction.
Obsess.
Act.
My father had proven that cycle again and again. With gambling. With women. With alcohol. With abuse. And maybe there was more of him in me than I wanted to admit. After all, I’d formed an addiction of sorts to William Winthorpe. The slow construction of building and creatinghisobsession withme... that was the job I hadn’t finished, skipping over a few crucial steps in my haste for the prize. But it wasn’t all for naught. I had played my role well during the last four days. I’d stayed away. Been nonthreatening and temptingly aloof. Now I just had to play tonight’s interaction the right way. Follow his cues. Keep him off balance. Set the hook in his gills deep enough that later, when I started to reel him in, he’d be helpless to do anything but flop toward me.
I adjusted the shimmery gold V-neck top that innocently displayed a bit of my bra when viewed at the right angle. Reaching into my bra, I adjusted my cleavage, bringing it forward before picking up the platter of veggies and dip. Following Matt to the buffet table, I eyed his placements before nodding in approval.
“Knock, knock!” Cat called out, easing open the side door.
I glanced over, smiling when I saw William step in. “Hey, there. I was about to call you. It’s almost kickoff.”
“Oh, you know how things go. We got ... distracted.” She gave a coquettish giggle and reached over, gripping a handful of William’s butt as if she were a twenty-dollar hooker. I took a quick sip of wine to keep myself from gagging.
She swept forward and hugged me, and I returned the gesture, making eye contact with William over her shoulder.
“William.” Matt approached, and William’s face broke into a warm smile. “Ready to watch Stanford lose?”
“Not likely,” he responded. “But if they do, I plan to soothe my anguish with that twenty-one-year-old tequila you’ve been hiding from me.”
My husband laughed as if it weren’t true, as if he didn’t squirrel away the Fuenteseca every time company came over. “Let’s break it out tonight. I have a feeling you’ll need it.”
I watched as Matt stole William away, leading him toward the living room.
“This food smells fantastic,” Cat mused. “We skipped lunch, so we’re starving. And ...” She pulled a wrapped gift from the interior of her bulky designer purse, the same one looped over every celebrity’s arm. “I brought you this. Happy birthday.”
I paused, stunned. “How did you know it was my birthday?”
“You had it on your club application. My social coordinator keeps track of everyone’s birthdays and sends me reminders. I’m sorry it’s a day late.” She settled in at the bar top, setting her bag on the granite counter.
Had William known as well? Had he intentionally not said anything on Friday? Had he seen the huge rose arrangement that Matt had sent to the office? Surely he had. I’d put them on the low file cabinet by my desk, in clear view of the hall.
“You didn’t need to get me anything,” I said helplessly, taking the beautifully wrapped box she held out. “I didn’t get you anything for your birthday.”
“Oh, shut up and open it.” She smiled and worked her way out of her thin coat. She was dressed like it was winter, complete with a cream scarf and matching gloves. “Come on. I’ve been waiting weeks to give this to you.”
Under her coat was a vibrant red wrap dress. On me, the color would have highlighted my pale skin, but against her olive tan and dark features, her toothpaste-ad smile ... she looked like a million dollars.
The gift was small, and I tried to guess at its contents. Maybe a watch? I glanced at my own timepiece—a Cartier lookalike that I’d found on Black Friday years ago. I pulled away the thick cream wrapping paper, unveiling a red box.
“Shake it,” she urged. “Guess what it is.”