Chapter 3: Sawyer

My masked lover looked down at me contentedly. Possessively.

“That was, by far, the last thing I expected to experience tonight,” he told me.

I chuckled. “I certainly didn’t either.”

He went to remove his mask but my hand shot up to stop him. For some reason it felt like it would ruin it.

“Don’t,” I echoed my earlier request, offering a reassuring smile. “It’s better this way.”

He took my hand with a doubtful sigh. Kissing my palm before holding it to his chest.

“Next you’re going to deny me your name,” he said with a grin.

My smile widened. “You’re smart,” I replied.

He leaned in closer, planting a hand against the wall above my head as he brushed his knuckles along my cheek.

“I’ll let you keep your anonymity… for now,” he told me. “Just know that I’ll have your name before we meet again.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “What makes you think we’ll meet again? I don’t belong with this crowd, remember?”

The smug grin that graced his face almost had me weak in the knees again. “Let’s just say I’m good at making things happen,” he stated.

He began leaning in closer when the music from the ballroom next to us stopped and someone came on the mic. I pressed a hand to his chest, confidently pushing him back.

“Sounds like the speeches are about to start. No better time to sneak in unnoticed.” I held his gaze. “We should get back in there.”

“You go first,” he suggested, checking the hallway to make sure the coast was clear. “I’ll give you a head start. We can’t have you and me becoming the next juicy gossip, now, can we?”

My mouth dropped open at the reference to my conversation with Christina but before I could comment, he was ushering me out the door. As much as I wanted to ask just how long he had obviously been watching me this evening, he was also right. The last thing I wanted was to give anyone ammunition to start rumors. So, I scurried down the hallway and dipped into the ladies’ room.

I thanked whatever deity was watching over me when I found the restroom empty. I retreated to a stall to make sure there was no lingering evidence of my impulsivity. I ensured everything was tucked back into my dress and where it belonged. I realized I had lost my panties but I wasn’t about to go back to retrieve them. Once I was sure my gown was in place, I left the stall to check my hair and makeup. A little smudged and tousled but nothing I couldn’t fix. It would have been easier with my purse, but that was still with Christina.

Crap. Christina. What the hell was I going to tell her?

Hey, girl, sorry I abandoned you with these snobs. I had to go fuck some strange dude in a broom closet.

My face flushed red. You would have thought it was from shame but no. Instead of covering my face in embarrassment, I laughed at the stupid smile that wouldn’t leave my face. Besides, it wasn’t like Christina was one to judge a casual exploit.

The sound of applause came through the speakers of the bathroom and I realized they had the event mic linked to the building’s sound system. The sound of my mother’s voice had me rushing out of the bathroom. I only hoped I hadn’t taken so long I’d run right back into my intimate stranger.

Thankfully, I didn’t. Instead, I was met by a tipsy best friend rushing toward me.

“There you are,” she said. “Your mother was about to have a conniption looking for you. Get your fine ass back in there.”

I suppressed a sigh as she dragged me back to the ballroom where my mother was on stage speaking to their guests. I knew Mom would demand my attention at some point in the evening but I should have had at least until after the speeches before she was drunk enough to get sentimental.

But then again… they were serving really good champaign.

I loved my mother. But our relationship was… unconventional. It wasn’t a bad relationship. At least not for the most part. It just wasn’t what you would typically expect from a mother/daughter relationship.

Mom was seventeen when she got pregnant with me. Dad split before I was born and she was left to figure out the whole single teenage mother thing. It didn’t come easy to her. I don’t think anyone would say she raised me. I certainly wouldn’t. I was lucky enough to have my grandmother for that. At least for a few years. Until they had a falling out over my mother’s hyper fixation on finding a rich husband at the expense of her kid. After that, I pretty much raised myself.

She was never cruel. Or mean. She never put me in any real danger. But it was definitely easier for her to be the fun parent than the responsible one. It resulted in some tense situations growing up. But once I was an adult, and no longer clung to childhood expectations of being the center of her world, our relationship got easier. It made more sense. And it meant that when she told me that she finally bagged her rich dream boat, I was genuinely happy for her. Despite her faults, she was a romantic with a lot of love who deserved to be treated right.

It also meant she wouldn’t expect me to play the picture-perfect family at twenty-six years old. Or so I thought.

“And I couldn’t imagine a better anniversary present than my precious little girl moving home,” Mom expressed as she caught sight of me. “Sawyer, my love, come up here. Let me introduce you.”