There were a lot of words I wanted to unleash on him, but even if I tried at the moment, I knew it would come out in nothing but snot and drivel. He’d worn me down. I’d played his game and he’d won.
I opened the door and ran until I was out of the building. Ran until I couldn’t run any more because I was sobbing too hard to go on. I stopped at the river to cry and catch my breath and silence my dang phone, which had been going off nonstop in my pocket.
I pulled out my cell and looked at my notifications through bleary eyes—four missed calls and several texts, all from my sister.
Aubrey: Where are you?
Aubrey: Call me ASAP. It’s Dad. He’s in the hospital.
Aubrey: Sabrina! It’s a heart attack.
Aubrey: He’s going to die. Call me. I need you.
Epilogue
Ten years later
Ashley tapped her toe, anxious for the server to come by again. “I swear to god, if we don’t get out of here in time because of that damn waitress…”
“Calm down, would you? It’s really not that big of a deal if I don’t see him.” I finished the last swallow of my martini and pushed my glass aside.
“Are you kidding me? It’s been—what? Ten years since you left Harvard?”
“About that.” Ten years. It was strange how it hadn’t felt like that much time had passed. It still felt like yesterday, and it also felt like it happened in another lifetime, to somebody else.
“You have to see him. You never got to explain to him what happened. What if he’s been pining for you all this time? And he never knew that your father died. He just figured you ran off and didn’t care. Though I still don’t understand why you didn’t just take Audrey back to Cambridge with you.”
“I’ve been over this already,” I sighed.
She threw her hands up in the air, her exasperation with our server translating into exasperation with me. “You had a full ride! How could you let that slip through your fingers? I’ve heard you talk about the jobs you pined for—running big corporations on Wall Street and making the big bucks. You could have had that if you’d stayed!”
“I know! And believe me, I tried. But my scholarship was taken away when I didn’t finish out the semester. I couldn’t afford Harvard without that.” It had crushed me. Almost as much as the death of my father. All my life I’d worked for that scholarship, then to have it yanked away... It was salt on a very deep open wound.
Ashley, ever true to justice, became indignant. “I know, I know. They took it away. You should have appealed it.”
I’d explained this part to her before too. Many times. Something she’d probably remember if she hadn’t just finished three vodka tonics in less than an hour. “I did appeal it. But the scholarship was privately funded through the MADAR Foundation and since it wasn’t sponsored through the university, the donor didn’t have to adhere to school policies. Blah blah blah.” The memory was bitter in my mouth, months of writing letters only to be rejected time and time again. “If I’d had the right name, the right connections. If I’d had money, I’m sure things would have been different.”
“Isn’t that everyone’s story? Hey, waitress!” she practically yelled across the bar.
“Ashley! Shh!” I didn’t know why I was shushing her now. The whole restaurant was already looking at us.
She didn’t mind the attention. “We made eye contact. It’s cool. She saw me. She’s bringing the ticket.” She stole the olive from my empty martini glass. “Anyway, you got your masters at Colorado University and then got swept up by a headhunter for one of the best ad firms in California, moved to L.A., met me and your life really began. You’re welcome.”
I pretended to roll my eyes, but honestly, Ashley had become a great friend and confidante. Other than my sister, she was the only person I’d ever told about Donovan Kincaid and Weston King. I’d left out details both times I’d shared the story, however. No one needed to know how sick and dirty I’d been back then. With Donovan.
I still thought about him, sometimes. At night. When I couldn’t sleep. When I was restless and couldn’t figure out what I needed. Sometimes it was just my hand and fantasies of him.
I wasn’t admitting that, though. What kind of girl still dreamed about the asshole who’d taken her virginity and thrown her aside like that?
What would have happened if I’d been able to stay?
“Here you go,” the waitress said, dropping off our ticket.
She was already off to another table when Ashley caught her by the arm and pulled her back. “And here’s my card. Could you hurry please? We have to be somewhere.”
“We really don’t,” I said, but the server was already out of earshot.
“Yes, we do!” Ashley turned the “Advertising in a New Age” program around so it was facing me and pointed at the keynote speaker excitedly. “He probably thinks you stood him up all those years ago. You have to make it right!”
I stared at the program. It was still open to the page that had started this whole conversation and caused us to miss two panels already.
His picture showed he’d aged well.
But I already knew that. I’d seen both of their pictures many times, and they’d both aged well. Weston King and Donovan Kincaid were famous in the ad world. Instead of following Harvard with jobs in their fathers’ investment firm, they’d opened up an international advertising agency. Weston ran the office in the States and Donovan ran the branch in Tokyo.
When I’d agreed to go to New York for three days with Ashley for this conference, I’d had no idea he’d be a speaker.
“He probably won’t even remember me,” I said, staring at his panty-melting dimple.
“Who could forget you? With a face like his, I’d use any card I had to try to get close to him. He’s a hottie. Oh, wait, I forgot you’re more into brains than looks these days—maybe he’ll share all his award-winning inspirations with an old friend.”
I shook my head and pulled my hand through my hair—the ponytail was long gone, but the habit was not. I probably should see his speech anyway. And what was the harm in sticking around afterward? Wouldn’t it be nice to finally have some closure to those days?
The waitress returned with the bill and Ashley quickly signed.
“All right,” Ashley said. “Ready, Bri?”
It was a loaded question. Was anyone ever ready for men like Weston King and Donovan Kincaid?
Pulling out my phone, I used the camera to freshen up my lipstick and took a deep breath. “Let’s do this.”