The charity event is more like a huge party.  There’s an open bar, music and dancing.  The entire first floor of the New York Contemporary Museum has been rented out for this event.  The museum is gorgeous, and as soon as I step inside, I wish that I had been able to bring Santos with me.  He would have loved the design and the space.  The main room is huge, wide and open with rich marble floors, and impossibly high ceilings.  A two tiered chandelier hangs from the middle of the room, and there are two rows of paintings in ornate wooden frames that line each wall.  I recognize one entire wall as artwork from my gallery, and it makes me swell with pride to see them there.  It’s not as if I painted them, but it’s so nice to see The Hudson Gallery represented.

The room is full, but not packed.  People stand in small groups, talking and laughing loudly as they sip expensive champagne.  The dance floor has already started to fill.  Some people stand at the cocktail tables, nibbling on tiny hors d’oeuvres.  It’s all rather fancy and civilized, and although I’m wearing an insanely expensive dress (I texted Santos the designer, and he responded with a lot of exclamation points), and I’ve actually done my hair and makeup for once, I still feel out of place. 

“May I get you a drink?” A pleasant voice to my side asks.  I turn, coming face to face with a waiter.  He looks young, though the tux he’s wearing makes him look at least of age.

“Champagne, please.” I smile, forcing it slightly.  The Cinderella effect has worn off slightly, and now that I’m here, all I can think about is getting back to the hotel, ordering room service and watching tv in bed.

“You must be Gracie Bell.” A voice from behind me seems to ring out through the room, and I turn around quickly.  A man, who looks to be in his forties, wearing an impeccable black tux, walks up to me, his large hand out.  I smile again, and shake his hand.

“Hello.” I manage.  I don’t know why Vera thought I would be good at this. I’m terrible at this.  I’m about as eloquent as a cactus. The man smiles, and I can’t help but notice the quick dart of his eyes as he looks me up and down. I press my lips together, crossing my arms over my front. I’m more than aware of the low v neckline of the dress, and the way his eyes linger.

“I’m Franklin Kordrol.  I’m the event planner here at the New York Contemporary.  I know Vera well.  She told me you would be coming in her stead.” He grins at me, his smile wide and full of large teeth. He’s a large man, with close set eyes and graying moustache. I take a step back. Has he heard of personal space? 

“Ah, Mr. Kordrol, yes.  So nice to meet you.” I say, my jaw clenched as I force a smile. 

“Please, young lady, call me Franklin.  Mr. Kordrol was my father.” He puts a hand at the small of my back and I try to be subtle as I take a few steps forward, just out of his reach.  I wonder if it would be rude to remind him that he is old enough to be my father.

“Let me show you around, and introduce you to a few people.  I want you to meet some people from the museum, and the charity, and there’s quite a few celebrities here. I sincerely hope you have a wonderful time.  No date?” He still has an arm extended, as if he wants to guide me around the room.  I grip my little clutch purse, my mind racing.

“No date. Just here strictly for business.” I say, my voice clipped.  The waiter returns with my champagne, and I take it, thanking him as I quickly throw back the cold, fizzy liquid.  Franklin watches me drink, somewhat mesmerized, but then smiles quickly and turns as he motions me to follow him.  I set the empty glass down on a nearby table, and I follow him through the large room.

“Vera sent some beautiful pieces.  We were thrilled to have them here.” Franklin walks me through the hall, smiling and waving at people as we move.  I try my best to take everything in, but it’s rather overwhelming.

“As always, THG is so happy we’ve been able to be a part of this.” I hear my voice, and it sounds robotic.  Franklin nods, and he leads me out of the main room toward one of the smaller rooms.  It is quieter, as the band is playing in the main room, and there are less people. Here, there are more smaller groups having quiet conversations. 

“Vera may have told you, as a perk of being one of our guests, you have full access to the museum.  The gala is being held in the main concourse and the first three small galleries on the first floor.  You may visit the other two galleries on the first floor, and anywhere on the second floor.  I would be more than happy to give you a private tour, if you’d like.” He smiles, and I can hear the somewhat heavy way he is breathing.  I swallow, feeling a little bit sweaty and completely uncomfortable.  Vera didn’t tell me that her contact for this event was a total, absolute creeper.

“Thank you, Mr. Kordrol, but I think I’ll just stay in the main gala area. I don’t want to miss anything.” I nod.  He stares at me for a second, his dark eyes serious and thoughtful, then he nods.

“Yes, well.” He says, as if he doesn’t totally accept my response.  “Let me introduce you to a few people I work with, and then I can let you get back to the party.” He says, putting his hand back at the small of my back again.

Kordrol introduces me to quite a few people, whose names I immediately forget.  I meet the charity head organizer, and the museum’s gallery manager.  I make small talk with the head curator, making sure to remember her name for later.  Kordrol stays close to me the whole time, making sure I have a full glass of champagne and introducing me to whoever he can.  It makes me uncomfortable but I know I only have to stay for a little bit longer to be polite, and then I can leave.

“I’d love to introduce you to our head of marketing, but he’s nowhere to be found.  Richie is fantastic, and your gallery might work with him later on.” Kordrol peers around the room.  I nod, feeling lightheaded from the champagne.  I haven’t eaten since breakfast, and the alcohol is going right to my head.

“Ah, come this way, I’ll introduce you to some of our special guests.” Kordrol takes my arm, and I have to fight every urge to pull away.  His hand feels large, cool and clammy on my upper arm.  I feel like his little pet that he’s showing off to everyone.  Already, I’m formulating excuses for why I need to  leave.

We walk over to a group of three men, all wearing tuxes and suits.  Two of the men are on the shorter side, in their early thirties with somewhat familiar faces, but I can’t quite place them.  The third man…his face is more than familiar. 

“Miss Bell, let me introduce you to James Forth, Greg Mitchell and Tom Hiddleston.  They’re part of our celebrity supporters tonight.  You may recognize them from their various film and television work.” Kordrol beams, as if he himself is responsible for their careers.  I lock eyes immediately with Tom, who looks shocked at first, but then breaks into a huge smile.

“Gracie.” His voice is smooth, velvety. It is like warm honey.  Seeing his friendly, familiar face in this sea of strangers makes me almost weak in the knees.

“Hello.” I grin, and Tom steps forward, pulling me into a hug.  He’s wearing a slim fit black suit with a white shirt and a red satin tie.  He looks handsome and happy.  His dark hair is long gone, and in it’s place is the hair I remember.  Golden, curly, but much shorter than before.  It’s short on the sides with some height on top.

“It’s incredible that you’re here.  You look…beautiful.” He pulls back, his hands still warm on my arms.  I smile and fight off the urge to hug him again. 

“Thank you.  I’m here with my gallery.” I say, and we both pause and look at each other, then let out a quick burst of incredulous laughter.

“I see you already know Mr. Hiddleston.” Kordrol looks annoyed.  I turn then and introduce myself quickly to the other two men, who shake my hand smiling.  I can feel Tom’s eyes on me, and I can feel the heat rise from my chest to my face.

“Yes, we’ve met.” I smile at Tom and his grin gets wider.

“Gentleman, Miss Bell has many people to meet today.  If you’ll excuse us.” Kordrol dips his head and I feel the panic wash over me again.  Now that I know Tom is here, the last thing I want to do is continue to be paraded around by Stranger Danger.  I smile weakly and then look at Tom, who has a curious look on his face.  I blink at him and then try to mentally send him an SOS signal.  He reaches forward, lightly touching my elbow as Kordrol tries to direct me away.

“We have to catch up, Grace.” Tom says softly, and nods toward me, as if promising me he’ll come find me soon.  I nod and grab his hand, squeeze his fingers and then turn and let Kordrol push me toward another group of strangers.

My heart is beating so fast, I can barely focus.  What are the odds that Tom would be here?  Then again, what are the odds of any of my run ins with him.  It sort of seems to be our thing.  I’ve never been more relieved to see someone. 

The next half hour is spent with Kordrol being creepy, and staying within a foot range of me at all times, and meeting more and more people that I will not remember an instant later.  I smile, and try to be professional.  I know many of these people could be future networking connections.  I know that I am representing The Hudson Gallery.  But, to be honest, all I can think about is Tom.  I haven’t seen him since Kordrol pulled me away. 

My stomach rumbles as the music in the gallery has gotten louder.  I’ve had at least three glasses of champagne, and I’m beginning to worry if I don’t eat something I’ll fall over.

“Are you alright, Gracie? You look flushed.” Kordrol asks, his face close to mine.  I can see his pores, the slight sheen of sweat around his forehead.  I blink and smooth my dress down around me.

“I think I need something to eat.” I say.  He immediately springs into action, telling me he’ll return in a moment with something for me.  I’d much rather get it myself, but when I start to protest, he holds up his hands, shaking his head.

Kordrol stalks away to the hors d’oeuvres table, and I finally feel as if I can breathe.  I’ve been there for over an hour and he hasn’t left my side.  Doesn’t the man have something to do besides harass me?  I look around for an empty table and find one off the side of the dance floor.  The band is playing a slow song, and there are multiple couples out on on the floor.

I sigh as I sit, feeling my slightly aching feet relax for a moment.  Now would be a good time to talk to Vera, so I grab my phone from my clutch.

The event is really nice.  Thank you for the dress, it’s beautiful.  Everything seems to be great! I text her, then hold my phone as I wait for her response.

Excellent! Have a good time.  Have you met Franklin? Vera asks.  I take a deep breath, my eyes scanning for him.  No sign of his return yet.

I have.  He hasn’t left my side.  He’s very…friendly. I press my lips together. 

I should have warned you about that.  He is overbearing.  He’s harmless though. See you Monday!

I wrinkle my nose at her text, and then put my phone away.  I’ve already decided I’ll stay for another half an hour, and then I’m done. 

“Gracie?” A familiar voice behind me makes all the hair on the back of my neck stand up.  I turn, and then immediately stand up from the table, pushing my chair back as I do. 

Richard.  Richard the dick.  What is he doing here?!

I am completely speechless.  I haven’t seen him since we broke up.  I haven’t seen him since I last saw him, cheating on me in my own bed.  I brace myself against the table and then force a smile, but it is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.  My face feels like plastic.  Hard, unmovable. 

He looks pretty much the same. Not much has changed in six months.  Same dark hair.  Same dark eyes.  He’s lost a bit of weight, and he’s grown a beard.  Other than that.  Same. 

But dear god, he has a woman with him. The woman.  At first I’m not sure if it’s her.  I’d recognize her better if she were naked, to be honest.  But it’s her.  Blond hair, thin face.  She stands a bit behind Richard, holding onto his arm and watching me. 

“Richard.” I finally find my voice.  He stands still, doesn’t try to hug me or touch me, thank god.  My mouth feels dry, and everything seems a bit hazy.

“You’re the last person I expected to see here.” He says, and lets out a nervous laugh.  My mind races for something, anything, intelligent to say but I’m drawing a blank.

“I’m here with THG.” I say, suddenly remembering the gallery.  Richard nods.  I’ve worked for The Hudson Gallery for awhile, and was working there when we were together, so he remembers.

“I’m head of marketing for this museum.  I got the job a few months back.” He says, and then nods again.  The blond is still hanging onto his arm, but he’s made no move to introduce her.  I feel like I’m going to vomit, and I wouldn’t totally mind if it was on him.

“Congratulations.” I say, but there’s no joy in my voice. 

“Thank you.  You look lovely, Gracie.” He says, and his voice warms slightly.  I swallow hard, feeling emotions I’d been long trying to repress start to rear their ugly heads.  I want to run. I want to cry.  I want to be anywhere but here.  I could have gone the rest of my life without seeing him ever again.

“Thanks.” I manage.  The blond finally shuffles forward, clearing her throat softly.  Oh honey, I know who you are.  Don’t you worry.

“Gracie, um.  I hate to do this here, but I guess you should hear it from me.” Richard slips an arm around her slender back, pulling her to his side.  I feel like I already know what he is going to say, but nothing can really prepare me for it.

“This is Carmen…my fiancé.” Richard looks at me, his eyes are like cold, dark stones.  I feel something inside of me harden and break.  My chin, my terrible, traitorous chin, gives a tiny, shaking tremble.  Fiance.  He’s known her only six months! Unless…

My stomach flips and I clench my hands into fists at my side.  I will not cry. I will not cry.  Apparently, I can’t speak either because I haven’t said anything and Richard and Carmen are just looking at me, waiting.  My eyes flicker to her hand, and sure enough, there is a rather large, sparkly diamond on her ring finger.  It shouldn’t hurt, but it feels like someone’s punched me in the gut.

“Darling, there you are. God, how could I have missed you? You’re stunning.” I feel an arm slip around my waist, but I know it is him before I even have to look.  Tom’s face is suddenly nuzzled in the crook of my neck, and he turns us slightly so his back is toward Richard. 

“Steady,” He whispers into my ear, and he holds me tight for a second.  I give in for a half a moment, feeling my chin wobble again and I press my face into his shoulder.  In the safety of Tom’s arms, blocked from the view of Richard and Carmen, I take a deep, trembling breath and I bite my lip hard.  Then I pull it together.  Tom releases me, his arm still around my waist as we turn back toward Richard and Carmen.

“Gracie girl, who are your friends?” Tom asks, all brightness and cheer. I feel his hand press into my side, and he squeezes lightly, pulling me against him gently.

“Tom,” I finally find my voice.  “This is my ex, Richard.  Richard, this is Tom—“ I nod toward Richard, ignoring the woman next to him.  I’m not quite ready to address that.

“Richard, nice to meet you.  I’m Tom, Gracie’s boyfriend.” Tom shakes Richard’s hand, and I can’t help but get a tiny thrill of satisfaction when I see the look on Richard’s face.  It may be a lie, but it’s a lovely little lie, and I could just about kiss Tom for saying it.

“Boyfriend? Oh.” Richard murmurs and it is his turn to force a smile.  I still feel lightheaded, and somewhat nauseated at this point.  I feel myself waver against Tom, and Tom takes my hand in his.

“It’s been fantastic meeting you, but I’ve promised Grace a dance.  So, if you’ll excuse us.” Tom grins and then he is leading me away from them.  With each step that we take away from them, I feel my stomach start to unclench slightly.

He leads me toward the dance floor, but I know I won’t be able to dance.  I can barely stand.

“Gracie?” He looks down at me, his blue eyes concerned.

“I need to get out of here.  Quickly.” I say softly.  In my peripheral I can see Kordrol, walking toward us with a frown and a plate in his hand.  Tom wraps his arms around my shoulder, and we make a beeline for the main doors.

“Let’s go.” He says, his jaw clenches and we both pick up our pace, eyes set for the door.