Page 5 of Even After This
Charlie releases my arms, and his crystal-blue eyes dance from Harlan to me.
“Meredith, this is Charlie Boyd. He’s an up-and-coming prodigy. If he stays focused, you’ll be seeing his work headlined on the big screen one day.”
Charlie slips his hands in his pants pockets and shrugs in an endearing aw-shucks manner. “He mentors a couple of us newbies. We’re all glad he’s back and hope he rubs off on us somehow.”
“Charlie, this is Meredith.” Harlan nods to me, his dark eyesgripping my attention with their intensity. “She’s about to make me grateful my mother forced me to attend cotillion.”
These two are like a testosterone commercial, and I pray my deodorant is holding up to its advertised standards.
“What kind of event is this?” I ask, looking around the room and spotting a few more familiar beautiful faces. “Is this a fundraiser? Or did they move the Golden Globes to Colorado Springs?” I gasp. “Is there a secret famous people convention at the hotel? I won’t be able to handle that.”
Charlie grins. “We’re all on a movie set together close by.”
“It’s been a brutal schedule,” Harlan adds. “And something went wrong behind the scenes that delayed filming. The studio gave us the weekend for some R and R while they work out the details.”
“Harlan set it up for all of us to come here. And he paid!”
Harlan glares at Charlie. “That’s enough. I’ll take it from here.”
“You paid for all of this for them?” I ask, not knowing how to filter that information but not being able to ignore how moved I am at his generosity.
Instead of explaining, he wraps my arm around his elbow.
We walk the plank toward the dance floor.
Everything about him is overwhelming. His solid presence, his masculine scent, his confidence. If I’m unable to form coherent thoughts, how do I pull out of this?
As we reach the edge of the inlaid hardwood, I tug on him to stop our forward movement. I bow my head and study my toes.
Harlan’s body angles toward mine, appearing almost protective. “Meredith?”
I lick my lips, tasting overpriced lip gloss and a hint of insecurity. Staring at the safety of my shoes, I ask my question. “Be honest with me. Did you let me stay and dine with your group because you found out about the memo?”
“No. Yes.” His laugh fractures, and he gentles his voice. “Maybe.”
I nod at the floor.
“But I asked you to dance with me inspiteof the memo.”
Any other answer would have driven me straight back to my table. However, this one robs me of the frequent-flier excuses I use to insulate my widowed, risk-averse life.
Harlan leans in. “What do you say? Dance with me?”
The low timbre of his voice coaxes me to respond. I lift my head and stare at him. Can he see the stars swirling in my eyes? He doesn’t needPeoplemagazine to affirm his looks. This man would make anyone forget how to speak.
Four years. No doubt I’ve been in the presence of attractive single men over the course of the last four years, but this feels like the first time I’ve noticed one. I just can’t believe the one my body chose to notice. How can anyone converse with someone so beautiful?
“I could be a complete nightmare, you know,” I say.
His broad shoulders, still shielding me from the room, shake with his light laughter. “You aren’t. In my entire life, I’ve only misjudged one person.” His eyes seem to dim a touch, though it’s almost indiscernible. “I won’t make that mistake again.”
“Famous last words. But if you’re willing to risk it, so am I.”
He doesn’t waste a moment ushering me to the dance floor, allowing me no time to ask the obvious.
I place my right hand in his left, then set my other one on his shoulder. When his palm hits my waist, I shudder. The surprise of his touch clashes with the memory of the last time I danced with a man in this room.
“You okay?”
