Page 150 of The Other Side

“I dragged you here,” he counters, leaning into me. “You wouldn’t even be networking if it wasn’t for me.”

I tilt my head defeatedly. “Alright, that’s true. But you still found me worthy enough to nominate for an award.”

“You’re lucky Matt’s thirty,” Jared jokes.

I smile, connecting my back to the chair again. “You lie.”

Just as I settle into my seat, a woman steps behind the podium and grabs hold of the microphone. “Good evening, and welcome to the Thirty Under Thirty class of 2019.”

Applause erupts around the room, my palms joining in.

“I’m Heidi Mayfield, Chief Operating Officer of the Woodbury Chamber. I am thrilled to recognize many young professionals tonight across Long Island.”

Her words taper off through the speaker. I’d like to believe that all of my heart is invested in this moment, but the chair next to me is empty.

I steer my attention left, eyes landing on the closed double doors.

My stomach loops into a knot. The tension rises into my chest until my lungs buckle. I don’t want her to miss this.

Not because I want her to congratulate me.

Because I want to celebrate us. She’s the only reason I’m here right now.

My eyes peel off the entrance, skating across the white linen of the round tables that frame the dance floor. I pass Gabriella’s smile when she commits to a double-take under the dim hues of light. Thankfully, she’s flinging her attention in the next second.

Once again, I look at Heidi under the small spotlight.

The presentation of awards begins.

Callie Rae

The amplified voice from the ballroom filters into the lobby. I just finished checking in and figure it’s best to skip retrieving my name card.

My heels tap the black marble, and I curl my palm around the handle of one of the double doors. I swing it open, the echo of a woman’s voice humming from the speakers. She reads the name of a recipient, and I’m thankful for the men in navy business suits blocking my entrance.

The up-lighting provides even more of a disguise. There’s no need to cast any kind of attention on me, especially now that I’m late.

I swallow thickly as I merge left, tentatively strolling to the corner of the ballroom. My heels pad along the brown carpet, the hem of my satin maxi dress slapping my ankles as I do. I’m shifting my eyes every so often to the podium on the white marble. Sinking my teeth deep into my lip as I weave through a couple round tables.

When I finally meet my destination, I pivot to observe the center of the room. There’re probably about one hundred guests here. As grateful as I am that I’m camouflaged in the background, my heart pumps in a frenzy as I puff out a quiet breath.

Claps and cheers drive my gaze to trace the room. My eyes linger around the tables directly in front of me, my adrenaline propelling into a fierce momentum.

“Brant Beckett.”

My head jolts just as my heart does. My eyes park on the middle of the ballroom, a few people in suits already stationed around the podium.

I cradle my palms together, resting them against my lower stomach. My gaze goes haywire over the entire room. I search for Brant’s walking form, releasing a soft breath when he appears under the gentle spotlight.

He’s emerging from the opposite corner, a humble grin painted along his stubbly jaw. His smile yanks on my own lips, lifting them in the same shape as my eyes roam over him.

His toned torso is wrapped in a white dress shirt. His corded forearms peek out when he shakes hands with the line of people. His legs are cloaked in black trousers, hugging his limbs flawlessly with his strong and slender build.

My eyes elevate to his short hair. Analyzing the way he’s applied product to the top haphazardly. The length is getting there.

God, he’s so handsome.

For as long as I’ve known Brant, he was never anything other than gorgeous. He never needed nicer clothes or shoes to be more attractive. He never needed to be chased by other girls for me to realize just how immaculate he was.