Everything I've Never Had (8 page)

Elegantly gliding her across the floor, Adrian looks amazing as he stares down at his date; but as soon as his eyes meet mine, he glowers at me. So I glower back.
Why is he upset with me? He's the one who showed up here with a freakin' girlfriend!
No heads up, no warning, nothing.

Spinning on my heel, I decide to put a little distance between Adrian and me. Plucking two glasses of champagne off a waiter's tray, I make my way to one of the anterooms that doesn't contain a crowd and move even further away by sliding through the French doors to the balcony.

QUICKLY DOWNING BOTH glasses of my champagne, I immediately feel a little rush. A running joke in my family is that I'm a lightweight: one glass of wine and I'm giggly. Not drunk, mind you. I don't do drunk, but one glass and I'm feeling good. So when I down these two glasses, it goes straight to my head. I grin at myself and give myself the Fonzie nod.
Good call
, I think.

Hearing the volume kick up on the jazz band's Harry Connick, Jr. number, I realize the doors behind me have opened, and it startles me. I whirl and there he is. I shake my head and narrow my eyes at him. “Nope! We are
not
doing this again,” I proclaim.

He snaps his head back and wrinkles his brow at me. “Doing what exactly?” he asks, clueless to inner turmoil.

“Making out on a porch,” I throw my hands out, which I realize are still holding the empty champagne glasses, “or balcony or whatever. Not going there again.”

He chuckles at me. “Celeste, I didn't come out here to make out with you. I don't want to make out with you.” I must make a God-awful face because his softens and he says, “I didn't mean it that way, Cel.”

I move toward him, “Get out of the way, Adrian.”

“What the hell, Celeste? What's with the hostility?”

“Are you kidding me?” I shriek. I push his chest with the back of one of my hands. He doesn't budge. Worse than that—my hand freaking tingles at the contact.
Ugh! Control thyself!
I take a deep breath and release it. Carefully, I set the glasses down on the bistro table.

“No. I'm. NOT,” he enunciates each word clearly.

Turning back to him, I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and exhale. “Please, Adrian, move out of my way,” I try with sweetness, a bobbing of my head, and an even sweeter smile.

“Not until you tell me what you're pissed about.”

My eyes fly open and I stare a hole in his chest.
How can he be so oblivious?
“I'm upset because you brought a date, a girlfriend, and you didn't even tell me you are seeing anyone much less that you have a girlfriend!” My eyes jerk up to meet his. As always, I get lost in them. They are soft and piercing at the same time.
How does he do that?

“I'm sorry, Celeste, but I don't see how that's really any of your concern,” he tells me.

My mouth drops and I snap it closed quickly, only to let it fly back open with, “What? How that's any of my
what
?” I'm utterly astonished.

“Who I see isn't any of your concern,” he lays it out for me.

“Oh, OK,” I puff. I feel tears spring to my eyes and not a few. That hurt. A lot. “I thought we were friends.”
I’m back to sounding pathetic. Fabulous!

“We're family, Cel. We're cousins,” he says without feeling.

“We are NOT related. If we were related, I wouldn’t ache for you the way I do.”
Please, God, tell me I did not say that out loud.

I hear his sharp intake of breath and know for certain that I did. He stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Celeste, don’t say shit like that. I'm trying to do the right thing here. I’ve moved on from that.”

“Mmm...doesn't sound like someone
has
moved on so much as someone is
trying
to move on.” I lean in and run my fingertip down the front of his shirt. I jerk my finger back and shake my head a little. What am I doing? Who is this woman? “Adrian, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me. Please let me pass. I just need to go get my head together.”

“What do you mean 'get your head together'?” I look up and watch his brow draws together. He reaches out and runs his fingertips over my gathered brow. His folded hand rests on my temple for a minute and neither of us says a word. “I don't want to hurt you, Celeste. I never wanted to hurt you. I care about you too much.”

“I care about you too, Adrian. I care about you so much,” I admit. Again I feel tears spring to my eyes. This time they don't stop though. They spill over and he catches them with his thumbs. I feel his hands grasp the back of my head as he tries to clear my tears. I close my eyes and lose myself in his touch. Feeling his calloused fingertips move over my skin is at odds with his gentle caress. “I don't know what to do,” I whisper.

“What do you mean? What to do about what?” My eyes fly open and he startles at what he sees there, what I can't hide anymore. I feel his grip intensify. “I don't know what to do either, baby. I'm trying to move on.”

All those little fissures that have been hanging on by a thread splinter and cause my heart to crack. It's a slow breaking, which I now deem worse than a fast one. “What if I told you I don't want you to move on?” I whisper brokenly.

His eyes slide to the side of me and his hand moves to hold the back of my neck. “Don't, Celeste.” His voice is as rough as the hand that grips me.

“Don't what, Adrian?” I feel myself being moved to him even as he tells me no. I lay my forehead on his massive chest and breathe deeply. His scent further intoxicates me. God, I'm an addict. I crave the smell of him.

“When you breath me in like that...” I barely hear his whisper, but I hear it.

“What?” I ask as I tilt my head a little to the side to peer up at him. “When I breathe you in like that what?” I repeat.

He bends his head slightly and places his lips on my forehead, kissing me softly. “I want you. I want you so damn much,” he murmurs against my forehead.

I tilt my head back further even though he has a firm grip on my neck. I lick my lips and glance at his to see a little smile resting there. “I still know what you taste like,” he tells me. I almost come undone. “I still know what you sound like when you say my name when you’re turned on.”
Oh. My. God.
I swallow hard and inch up a bit on the tips of my toes.

“Celeste?”
Oh my God!
“Hey, are you in here?” I hear Farah call. I freeze as does Adrian.

“Stay here for a few minutes,” I tell him.

“I'm going to have to,” he murmurs darkly. I bite my lip at that piece of information. “I'll…uh...see you later.”

“OK. Later,” he agrees.

FINISHING WITH THE auction—what used to be my favorite part of this event until it kept me from exploring what was going on with Adrian and me—I head off the stage and move into the crowd. I haven't seen Adrian the whole time. Trust me, I looked. My eyes continue to scan the crowd as I look for him. Realizing that I'm absolutely famished, which is probably yet another reason I felt the champagne so quickly, I move over to one of the waiters and ask for a plate. When I finish speaking with him, I look back into the room and see Bradford headed my way with a huge grin on his dimpled face. I smile a small smile. I'm afraid I may have led him on a bit earlier. I'd better fix that.

“Celeste, I have to tell you, you looked gorgeous up there,” he states unabashedly. At my expression, he quickly apologizes. “Sorry for being so forward, but really you have to know that I couldn't take my eyes off of you.” He gives me a half grin. I can't help but smile back at him. He seems so different from this set. Stating exactly how he feels, smiling at me, not holding back—these are not things our crowd are known for.

“Bradford, I trust you're having a good time,” I reply, hoping for a friendly, not flirty, tone.

“I wasn't until you took the stage,” he tells me.
Uh oh! Danger, Will Robinson!

“I was just about to head over and get a drink to go with my dinner that I forgot to eat earlier,” I say.

“Oh, I'll walk with you,” he says amiably.

We move toward the bar and I chance a glance over at the ballroom. Everyone is having a great time. Spending lots of money, I hope.
Who am I kidding?
I'm looking for Adrian. We really need to finish our conversation or whatever was happening on the balcony. I'm about to turn back to Bradford because he's just asked me a question when my eyes fall upon Adrian and Doppelgänger. They are tucked away in the tiny hallway that leads to one of the kitchens. She is pushed up against the wall and he is...devouring her. I'm pretty sure that's probably how I looked on the back porch a few months back. Her leg is up around his hip. His hands are on her ass. She is clinging to him and holding on for dear life, which is pretty much what you do when Adrian's kissing you.

And that's that. A fast break. It overwhelms me, and I almost crumble with it. I close my eyes and sway a little. I feel Bradford grab my elbow. “Celeste, you OK?” he asks in a worried tone.

My eyes snap open. They still haven't come back up for air. I glance down and look around at the floor as I try to recover from having my heart ripped out while surrounded by hundreds of people. “Oh, yeah, I don't know what that was,” I tell him. “I did forget to eat, though.”

“Come on, honey. Let's get some sustenance in you,” he tells me. I glance at his hand on my elbow and then at his smiling face. I feel myself smile a little at his kindness and that kindness suddenly makes me wary.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” I ask.

He looks a little taken aback. “Well, I'm...uh...a friend of your brother's.”

I tilt my head a little and repeat, “Yes, but why me?”

He shifts a little and seems slightly uncomfortable. Feeling like I'm on to something, I don't relent. “Why me?” I repeat.

“Well, I guess I feel like I know you.” His thoughtful eyes shift to my shoulder, and he moves a lock of hair from my shoulder. “Louis told me a lot about you.”

“Oh. Really?” I relax a little.

Meeting my eyes again, he says, “Yeah, and what he told me coupled with what I've seen tonight has made me...more intrigued than ever.”