Chasing Stars (29 page)

My reaction? Damn you. I am not a social event to be added to your busy agenda. I am your husband’s daughter. But I never said that. What’s the use?

“Ready, darling?” Dad holds up my knee-length wool jacket, and I shrug my arms and shoulders inside. “You look stunning.” He kisses my hand, placing it in the crook of his arm.

“Thank you, Daddy,” I reply. Inside, I am glimmering, but a sour glare from Priscilla convinces me to keep the satisfaction to myself.

“Shall we go? I abhor being tardy,” Priscilla says. I have a great mistrust for anyone who uses that type of vocabulary.

She slides her arm, on the other side of Dad. We are an example of perfection to anyone looking from afar.

On the way, I am nervous, insecure, and anxious as hell. Above all, I am excited. Within a few minutes, I will see Will. After the short drive, Dennis pulls over in front of Timeless Art Gallery. Stepping out of the Mercedes, I notice all eyes riveted on me. The photographers, camping outside of the building, flash their cameras and yell my name. My trembling fingers, clench into a fist, but I plaster my face with my signature smile and ignore the nasty comments.

“Ridiculous, as if we were a circus attraction,” Priscilla mumbles as she gets out of the car.

Once inside the building, Dad steers me toward the door attendant, who promptly collects our jackets. My eyes blink as they adjust to the interior light, then I scan the room for Will. My legs weaken when I identify Will and the hateful Pamela.

Never has he looked so handsome. Will grins as he talks to a couple. I recognize Rick. Will doesn’t notice me, so I examine him. Stubble covers his face, and his hair is longer than the last time I saw him. He has dark circles under his brooding eyes, and I swear he has lost weight. He wears a navy blue suit and his tie is loosened. I smile as I recognize he is nervous. His hair is in perfect disarray, just like when I used to run my fingers through it. My stomach flips. I’ve never been this afraid of rejection before.

Sensing my gaze, Will jerks his head my way. His eyes meet mine. Unconsciously, I hold my breath. Sometimes in life, we have to live with the choices we make. However, I’ve never wanted something as badly as I want to have Will’s warm embrace surrounding me.

“Let’s go say hello.” Priscilla snatches me from my desperation.

We stride toward Will.

“James, it is a pleasure to see you again, Pamela what a delight.” Priscilla shakes hands with them.

“This is Rick, my partner at Mystic and Lana his wife.” Will introduces. I smile towards them, but my mind falters and I can’t elaborate on what to say.

“Thank you for coming.” Will’s eyes fix on mine, but they are glacially cold.

“It is an honor to be here,” Dad says.

Priscilla flashes an overly charming smile. Inwardly, I roll my eyes, not even proper Priscilla is immune to Will’s intensity and godly beauty.

“We are quite excited to see your new collection. It’s been a while since your last exhibition,” my father utters. And I just stand there mute.

“I hope to fulfill your expectations, Mr. McGee.” Will ignores me now, and I have never been so hurt.

“It will surpass all expectations.” The hateful Pamela gleefully guarantees.

“Well, we shall not monopolize you. Later, we would like to hear about the inspiration for your new collection,” Priscilla says.

“Of course.” Will smiles politely.

My own brain betrays me and becomes a puddle of goo, which is preventing me from uttering a single word to the man I love. Following my father and Priscilla, I glance back. Will rubs his hands on his pants and presses his lips together, but he doesn’t look my way. Pamela wraps her fingers around his arm and squeezes it. I swallow hard, my heart drops, and I feel disoriented.

Priscilla and Dad quickly blend in among other attendees. I grab a glass of champagne and sashay trough the gallery, ignoring the curious eyes of some and the malicious interest of others.

I enter the room where the canvas Will painted of me under the stars is displayed in the room’s center. The beautiful sound of Yo-Yo Ma playing the Cello Suites of Bach purrs from hidden speakers. I glance at the illustration and longing grips my heart. I make a mental note to purchase it before I leave, but a small note reads, “On reserve.” Wondering what it means, I spot Lucas, Maritza, and Dan as they steer in my direction.

“Portia!” Maritza embraces me.

“Hey beautiful.” Lucas says.

“Hi, it’s so good to see a familiar face,” I say as Lucas kisses my cheek.

“Likewise, we don’t know many people here.” Maritza grins. “We haven’t seen you in a while,” She complains affectionately.

“Well,” Dan says hugging me, “I am sure Portia has been busy with her travels.” I sense he knows about my disagreement with Will, but Maritza doesn’t.

“That’s right. I just got back in town.” I scan the room, but Will is nowhere.

“Whoa, I had forgotten how fancy the bathroom is,” Mel says as she approaches.

When she recognizes me, she adds, “Hi, I didn’t think you would be here. Is Damon with you?” She gives me a look as if I am wearing a jacket made from the fur of her pet rabbit.

“No, flying solo tonight.” I sip from the champagne.

“Mel, darling, how are you feeling? Tell me when you are ready to leave. Will knows we will leave early.” Dan saves the day again.

“I am fine, Dad.” A smile crosses her face as she rubs her enlarged tummy. Then, she turns to me, “Have you met Pamela?”

“Yeah, I did,” I reply.

“She dated Will in college,” Mel says.

“Oh.” I sip again from my champagne.

“They were crazy about each other, but she dumped him and broke his heart.” Mel retrieves a glass of water from a waiter. “I wonder if they are finally working things out.” She drinks from the glass.

Too stunned to reply, I force a feeble smile onto my lips.

“Portia, Will told me this is a portrait of you. Is that so?” Redirecting the subject, a somewhat confused Maritza shoots a warning smile at Mel.

“Yeah, he mentioned something like that.” A wistful smile crosses my face.

“It is pure, and hopeful.” Maritza smiles and puts her hands over mine. “That’s what I see when I look at the two of you.”

Tears burn the back of my eyes. I close my eyes and pretend Will is next to me with his lopsided smile. It works. Well, he appears next to me, but he is smiling at his family, purposefully excluding me. When did I become a masochist? Being here is undiluted agony. Uh-oh, the tears threaten me again.

“Hey, how you are feeling?” he asks Mel.

“OK, but we will leave in a few, my back is aching,” Mel answers.

“Thanks for coming; it means a lot to me.” He pats her stomach and kisses her cheek.

“I will be home tomorrow.” He grins at his family. All the while, he ignores me. He turns to leave. This might be my only chance.

“Will—” I begin, but Pamela appears out of thin air and tugs his hand.

“Will, there is someone I want you to meet.” She shoots me a menacing look and whisks him away.

My strength is dwindling by the minute. So, before I start crying, I say a brief good-bye to Will’s family and leave them using the excuse of looking for my father. A waiter passes with a tray of champagne. I return my empty glass, and I snatch two flutes. I drink one in a gulp, and place the empty glass next to a statue of a…whatever that is. Did I mention my distaste for abstract art? I simply don’t get it.

Staggering through the pompous gallery, I observe Will’s magnificent artwork and I muse about what could have been. I deeply wish to go back in time. Regret ripples through my body and drenches my soul. I finish the flute of champagne. And gather another two flutes.

With a pain in my chest, my eyes roam, until I find Will and Pamela. My heart falters at their intimacy. His fingers brush over his disheveled hair, he leans toward her, and then whispers in her ear. Pamela chuckles and her tits seem to peer out of her low-cut dress. I hate this woman. Never taking notice of me, they spin to leave the room. His hand is on her ass. OK, I might be exaggerating. It is on the small of her back. The reality is I am a bit jealous. All right, I am dying of jealousy here. In addition, I am hurt. Regardless of what I did, Will should at least talk to me. I return the set of empty glasses, fetch another one, and toss it down. For the life of me, I can’t explain why I haven’t gone home yet.

Eventually, one needs to surrender or at least retreat. Defeated, I step back, square my shoulders, and tread along a narrow hall in search of my father. It is time I leave.

I hear laughter coming from an adjoining room. My eyes flash in the direction from where the sound originated. In disbelief, I watch Will embrace Pamela. She looks up at his handsome face, and kisses him.

For a full second, my heart comes to a halt and I feel like I’m falling into the pit of hell. Scanning my brain, I cannot remember of anything hurting me as much. Agony and pain grip my heart and squeeze it unmercifully. I cease to breathe. My eyes blink and fight against unbidden tears threatening to surface.

As if sensing my presence, Will glances my way and our eyes meet. For a second, I think I see regret in his eyes. My fingers tighten around my clutch. Struggling to hold back the tears, I spin on my heels and march away, willing myself to become invisible.

Relief rushes through me when I spot a bathroom. I yank the door with unnecessary force and sprint inside. Before I shut the door closed, Will wedges his shoulder in the door, and forces his way into the room. He latches the bolt, and silently stares at me.

I won’t cry. I repeat the mantra. But tears cloud my vision.

Will stands inches from me, his body exuding sensuality. His stare captures mine and, mesmerized, I see the fire in them. An incredible tension pulses between us. Then, like a predator, Will growls and charges toward me. I step back, focusing on holding back my tears. I feel the cold stone against my back. Will cages me with his hard body, pinning me against the wall. Will fists my hair, and our lips collide. His kiss is hungry and passionate. I gasp, gripping his shoulders and pulling him to me.

My core tightens, my head swims on an ocean of passion, desire and need. His hand trails down my waist, along my legs. He cups behind my knee, pulling my leg over his hip, and rocks against my abdomen. I moan, gasping for air. Will devours my breath, his ravaging tongue thrusts inside my mouth.

I wrap my other leg, around him. Will growls, rubbing his erection on a sensitive area. I arch my back, intensifying the contact. We are a violent explosion of kisses, touches, and moans.

All my senses are overwhelmed, and subdued to his domineering and insanely hot body. The ragged sound of his breathing makes me wild. His hunger engulfs my body. I slide my hand inside his suit, under his shirt. A thin layer of sweat covers his feverish skin. My nails dig into his muscular back. Desperation moves through me, I can’t let go of Will—not now, not ever.

He tears his lips from my mouth and descends, kissing, suckling, along my jaw, my neck, and setting my skin on fire. Will’s teeth sink into my bare shoulders. He pulls away, looking into my eyes.

“Why?” he growls. “Why did you come back?” He presses his forehead on mine, shoots his eyes closed, and sighs. With my hands planted on his chest, we wait for our breathing to steady. Silent tears escape my eyes, drenching my face.

Opening his eyes, he frowns, “You’re crying. Did I hurt you?” Will gently pulls my legs from his hips. My knees buckle and he steadies me, pulling me to him.

“I love you,” I say.

“God, woman,” Will croaks and his lips seek mine. But this time, his tongue, slides unhurriedly across my lips, stroking so lightly, it is painful. He tugs my lower lip gently.

“Will, please, please forgive me. I love you, like I never thought it was possible to love anyone. I can’t go on without you. Please, please—” I choke on my words. “I didn’t sleep with Damon, I did not. I swear,” I continue my desperate plea.

Will’s gaze is penetrating. His hands, possessively grasp my hips.

“I missed your taste. I craved your smell, every damn minute we spent apart,” he whispers against my lips. “I went crazy wondering who was touching you.” His hand cups my face. His voice is wounded and his clouded eyes pained.

“There is no one else, Will,” I sob. “Please, take me back. Without you, I am withering—my body, mind, and soul.”

For what seems like an eternity, Will is painfully silent. But a spark appears in his green gaze. Hope slowly runs through me. And I see the moment he succumbs to my distraught appeal. His eyes emanate the vivacious passion that has gotten me addicted.

“I don’t have an option, Portia.” Will's thumbs wipe my cheeks. “The day I first saw you, was the day I lost my heart. My life belongs to you. I breathe in hope of seeing your face. My heart beats in hope of touching your skin. I am yours. And I can’t help that. My whole being anticipates your presence. Without you, I am lost and without direction, like a broken compass. You are the reason I want to open my eyes every day.”

My hands grasp his hair, drawing him to me. I kiss him with the desperate need that has accumulated over the last few days. Overwhelming tears of relief flood my face. With the world seemingly far away, we stay fused to each other, until an impatient knock at the door forces us to separate.

“You need to go back,” I say.

“Will you come with me?” Will kisses me again, ignoring the second knock.

“I’m not letting go of you, Will,” I sigh, turning to face the mirror. My fingers run through my tousled hair.

“Good, cause I wasn’t planning on allowing you to.” Will stands behind me, sets his hand on my hips, and watches me through the mirror. I scowl at the sight of my puffy eyes, slide a damp tissue under my smudged eyeliner, and reapply some lipstick.

“Will, you and Pamela, and um, the kiss—” I start, but Will interrupts me, spinning me to face him.

“Baby, the kiss didn’t mean anything. We were celebrating and, for a moment, Pam confused today with the past. I am sorry.” He tucks my hair behind my ear. His eyes remain serious. “Were you jealous?” Will’s lips curve into a slight smile.