In Another Life

“Thank you,” I smile at George as I step to my seat. “Honestly. Thanks so much.”

The corners of his eyes crinkle up as he smiles at me. “Enjoy your evening, Miss Matthews.” Before I can say much else, he inclines his head the slightest bit and then melts back into the crowd seamlessly.

Without the distraction of the familiar security guard, I turn back to the table slowly, knowing that I’ll have to introduce myself to my fellow dinner companions—which I’d rather not do, to be quite honest. I’d much prefer to sit quietly and inconspicuously until Harry joins me.

Finally, after placing my clutch by my dinner plate and patting my hair to make sure that everything’s still in place and smoothing out the lap of my dress, I reluctantly raise my eyes to the rest of the table.

There aren’t a lot of people here yet, but if the empty chairs are any indicator, the table should be quite full once the festivities begin. The majority of the people are seated towards the right, away from my spot, and they’re all conversing casually as if they’ve already known each other for ages.

I catch the eye of a slender brunette diagonal to me and flush when I realize that she’s blatantly staring back. “Hello,” I greet her with a soft smile. “How’re you?”

“I’m well,” She replies in a thick voice, still studying me intently. “And yourself?”

I swallow, trying to rid myself of the sudden dry throat that’s descended upon me. “I’m good, thanks.” Inwardly, I cringe upon hearing my improper grammar. Nerves always seem to force my Essex tongue out, and I sound horridly uneducated.

She nods once, a short nod before she turns away from me and joins in on the other conversation. I’m left feeling slighted and a bit embarrassed by our taut exchange. Really, I hadn’t embarrassed myself that badly. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised by her frostiness. It’s probably considered odd that I’m the only person at this table that they don’t know.

I pass the time by fidgeting with the hem of my dress. The silk has a habit of creeping up my thighs as I sit and I work desperately to keep the material at a decent length. How mortifying would it be to have someone notice that my dress is sliding up my legs?

Relax. I exhale slowly, flexing my fingers in my lap as the butterflies in my stomach calm down a bit. That’s the key to it. Just inhale, and exhale. I can do this. I will get through this evening relatively unscathed and then I will have a long, hot bubble bath with a glass of wine when I get home as a reward.

Perking up a bit at the idea of escaping everyone’s curious glances, I look back at the people sitting at my table. Again, I catch the eye of the brunette and I grin at her, trying to appear as friendly and inviting as I possibly can.

But if she notices my obvious invitation to start a conversation, she ignores it and once again turns back to converse with the balding man next to her. My smile falters the slightest bit at the second rejection, but I brush it off and lean back in my seat.

I am perfectly okay with just sitting here until Harry arrives. I don’t have to make conversation to fill up the silence. I’m content to mind my own business and to ignore the rude looks.

Before long, I realize that the speeches must be about to start. There’s a man standing at the podium, leaning away from the microphone and speaking to someone just out of sight.

I watch as the lights begin to go down and the music starts to fade away. While I was daydreaming, the rest of the room had filled up quite rapidly and I’m amazed by the amount of people all here.

How had I missed everyone filing in? Blimey, I really need to start paying attention.

The man at the podium smiles widely, his teeth glittering in the bright spotlights. “Thank you all for being here. We truly appreciate your presence. I’m Harold Bingham and I am deeply honored to have been invited to speak tonight.”

My attention is diverted at the sight of Harry just off to the side. He’s standing behind the curtain and he’s speaking with someone beyond him. His face is lit up in a brilliant smile and my heart skips a beat as I watch him laugh into his fist.

He probably doesn’t even realize just how gorgeous he is. I bite down on my lower lip and look down at the table as I struggle to contain the heated blush currently crawling up my neck. He doesn’t even have to be near me for my body to react. It’s so obvious that I am in way over my head.

Thank god that Amanda and Jeanette can’t see me now. They’d have a field day with me.

It’s nearly ten minutes later before Harry steps up to the podium. Immediately from the press box the media begins to take photographs and he smiles graciously at them for a moment before he begins his speech.

“Thank you for that introduction. Honestly, you’ve built me up so much that I half expected someone really impressive to come on stage. Sorry, you’re all stuck with me,” He pauses, smiling at the laughter that ripples around the room. “As most of you know, Prince Seeiso and I started Sentebale in 2007 as a way to call attention to orphaned children who’re struggling to survive without their parents. This charity has made enormous leaps and bounds since it’s start and we are so proud of the work that we have accomplished thus far.”

I sneak a glance over at the other people at my table, who are all nodding and smiling at Harry. Obviously all of this is old news for them, whereas I’m just now learning the specifics of Harry’s charity. I should have brushed up on this before I came, especially since I knew what this evening was meant to be about.

“We came up with the name Sentebale because we wanted one in Sesotho, the language of Lesotho, and the idea of 'forget me not' seemed perfect.” Harry continues speaking, glancing down at his notes occasionally. “The charity is a way that both Prince Seeiso and I can remember our mothers who both worked with AIDs and orphaned children. I really feel that by doing this I can follow in my mother's footsteps and keep her legacy alive.”

There is a polite smattering of applause for the late Lady Diana which Harry acknowledges with a soft smile and nod of his head before he continues speaking.

“We both thank you for being here tonight and for supporting this charity. We invite you to check back in, in five—no, in two years to see what a huge difference we have made for the orphans in Lesotho.”

He ends his speech to a round of enthusiastic applause. I have to laugh as he steps away from the podium, because he lets out a visible sigh of relief before he shakes hands with who must be Prince Seeiso and the other board members on stage.

There is another round of photographs taken from the press box before the group of men onstage start to break apart. The orchestra begins playing again and conversations start to pop up all around the room.

I take another drink from my champagne and try not to draw attention to myself. But clearly when the only empty chair at the table is next to me, conspicuity is going to be a bit of a problem. I pass the time by studying the other guests at my table.

I jump in my seat as Harry slips into place next to me. He chuckles quietly to himself as a waiter immediately moves forward to fill up his champagne glass. After thanking him quietly and waving off another waiter, Harry greets someone down at the other end of the table before turning to me.

His hand is warm against my inner-thigh as he leans into me. “You look flawless tonight,” His whisper is hot against the shell of my ear and my body shudders involuntarily. “You were quite the distraction for me up on stage.”

“Well,” I murmur back, my gaze focused on his hand in my lap. “I do try. You don’t look half bad yourself, Your Highness.” I meet his gaze and arch an eyebrow up coyly.

He pulls away and smiles at my teasing tone. I can’t help but be a bit disappointed at his lack of touch. “Well, you know, sometimes I do have to play the proper princely role—to keep my father happy, of course. I’d show up to these in casual clothes if I could.”

“Oh, of course,” I laugh and bite down on my lower lip. “Wouldn’t the crowd go wild over that?”

“Don’t see why they would,” Harry admits, laughing a bit to himself. “It’s just a polo shirt and khakis.”

I tip my head to the side and study his profile intently. “I was thinking more like a vintage t-shirt and jeans, that kind of casual. I think you could pull it off,” I sip at my champagne and wait for his response.

Harry pulls a mock disgusted face. “Ugh, and dress like the commoners? No, thank you.” Beneath the table, his foot lightly nudges mine to let me know that he’s completely joking.

I don’t have a chance to reply, for the waiters appear presently with the hors d’oeuvres. They serve everyone at the table before refilling everyone’s champagne glasses and popping open the wine. After making sure that everyone has both wine and water, they disappear inconspicuously.

The only thing I recognize on my plate is crab cake, so I spear a tiny portion on the tines of my fork and take a bite. It’s surprisingly good (my first experience with crab was back home in Essex and it hadn’t been good) and I’m pleased with the amount of flavor.

“Your Highness,” The brunette, whose name I’ve discovered is Regina, shoots Harry a demure smile. “Who is your lovely dining companion this evening? I’ve not had the pleasure of making her acquaintance. She’s been such a naughty recluse all night.”

I flush at her words, indignation creeping up the back of my neck as I take a slow sip of my champagne. I’d made how many attempts to speak to this woman prior to Harry’s arrival? At least two, and here she is simpering at him like I’m the rude git who hasn’t bothered to introduce herself! The bloody nerve of some people…

Harry glances at me out of the corner of his eye before he turns to Regina. “This is Bryn. She’s a colleague. How’re the horses doing in this heat?” He flips the conversation smoothly back to the woman, expertly avoiding divulging any personal information.

But the damage is done. My cheeks are heating up in what I already know is going to be a momentous blush, and I can feel the corners of my eyes start to burn—a sure sign that the tears are starting to form. My hand, as I set my champagne flute down on the table, is shaking and I have to work hard to not upset any of my other glasses.

I’m just a colleague to him then? That’s all he thinks I am? Honestly, I would have thought that perhaps I meant a bit more then that. A colleague just sounds so impersonal and-and distant! I understand that he wants to keep his private life private, but he could have at least said I was, like, a friend or something.

I clear my throat, though it’s not needed, as I’m the last thing on peoples’ minds since Harry’s joined us, and push my chair back. “Excuse me,” I murmur, draping my linen napkin across my chair and standing up.

Harry, ever the gentleman, pauses his conversation and offers me his hand for assistance. His smile is warm and carefree, but I hardly notice in my haste to move away.

I brush by him and grab my clutch before I start for the door that I entered nearly two hours previously. I just need a moment to gather myself and wrestle my emotions back under control. I’m not going to do anything dramatic and storm off in the middle of the meal or something. I wouldn’t do that to Harry.

After a brief pause in which I ask a waiter for directions to the loo, I nip across the foyer and tug the heavy door open before I slip inside. Thankfully, it’s cool from the air-conditioning and completely empty. It’s just what I need.

My heels echo as I take a few steps forward and set my purse on the clean counter. My hands are still shaking and I feel like the tears are imminent. At least I’m alone, so if I do cry, I can do it in some sort of privacy.

Instead of allowing myself to dissolve into tears, I turn on the tap and wash my hands, focusing on scrubbing between my fingers and at my wrists in an attempt to distract myself. Eventually I rinse my hands and then shut the water off.

The faucet continues to drip and the taps are cool in my hands. I’m staring down into the bowl of the sink, trying to gather together my scattered thoughts and keep my composure.

But my vision is starting to blur again and I roll my eyes up towards the ceiling, inhaling deeply to calm myself down. I will not cry over this. God, that would be the bane of my existence to walk back to that table and have someone comment on my bloodshot eyes or something equally embarrassing.

I should not be this upset over this. I knew there was no chance that Harry and I could ever be anything more than casual friends, but I guess I still harbored a secret hope that maybe, perhaps, some day, there could be more between us.

But no, I guess not. I’m just ‘somebody’ to Harry—a warm body to escort him places and to amuse him until he grows tired of me and moves on to the next girl. There’s no way I’d ever be that important.

And then my disappointment starts to seep away and I realize that I’m angry. I’d gone to all of these lengths to make myself as beautiful as I could and my friends had bent over backwards to make sure I look a perfect vision and it was all for nothing.

I’m just somebody, nobody important, a colleague and nothing more.

My hands are trembling as I reach up to wipe away a black smudge beneath my left eye. I pat my hair to make sure it’s still secure before I tug up on my dress a bit and then take a step back. I still look fantastic tonight and if Harry isn’t going to appreciate it, then I’m sure someone else will.

God, no. That’s childish. I’ll just get through the rest of this evening as relatively unscathed as possible before I hide out in my flat for the rest of my life. No big deal.

My heels clack loudly as I exit the bathroom and make my way back into the dining room. I weave my way through the tables and the waiters before I sink back down into my seat and drape my napkin across my lap carefully.

“Alright then?” Harry asks, giving me a curious sidelong glance.

I nod, my smile frosty as I toss my head. “Just fine, thank you.”

If Harry notices the scornful tone in my voice, he makes no comment of it. Instead he turns back to his conversation with Prince Seeiso, seemingly unfazed by my abrupt change in attitude.

“You’re positively glowing,” Regina notes over her wine glass. She raises her eyebrows up at me. “Tell me, what is your secret?” She leans forward, as if expecting me to divulge some juicy secret.

I ignore her implications and smile softly. “It’s the night air.”

She appears startled at my answer and she takes a hasty drink to hide her surprise. “Ah, I see.”

The waiters serve the first course and I spend my time concentrating on my food. No one makes much of an attempt to speak with me, and I don’t mind. All I really want at this point is for my car to arrive so I can go home. Maybe Jeanette and I can order a movie off of the satellite or something.

It’s dessert before Harry touches my arm lightly, and I meet his bright blue eyes steadily. “Are you alright?”

I nod, trying my best to muster up a wide smile. “I’m fine, thanks. I-I’m having a really lovely evening.”

He never gets the chance to push me further, though I can tell that he wants to find out what’s wrong. He’s sucked back into the conversation and I do my best to ignore the concerned glances he throws my way.

It’s nearing midnight when a waiter materializes at Harry’s side. He bends forward and exchanges soft words with the prince. Harry nods twice before he waves the waiter away.

Carefully, he wipes his mouth and turns to me. “The car’s here to take you home.”

“Okay,” I nod and pull my shawl up around my shoulders securely. I go to reach for my purse, but Harry beats me to it. He holds out the delicate bit of lace and I take it from him with cautious fingers. “Thank you,” I say slowly.

He nods and offers me his arm. I slip my hand around his elbow and allow him to lead me towards the exit. I keep my head bowed, and as we draw closer to the doors, I want to drag my heels and halt Harry in his tracks.

He rubs at the back of his neck and turns his head so he can see me. “I know tonight hasn’t been the most interesting and for that, I apologize. I knew it was going to be boring and stuffy, but I thought—”

“It was lovely,” I interrupt him, my nose starting to tingle, which is a sure sign of tears. “Really, I had a-a nice time.”

He gives me an unconvinced look, but makes no mention of my obvious lie. Of course he wouldn’t. He’s much too polite to do so. That’s so infuriating.

We stop at the threshold of the door and Harry releases me gently. His face is stern and serious, and I hate that I’m the reason he’s unhappy. Because I know I am, and I shouldn’t be acting this childish and cold towards him. It’s not his fault.

“Thank you for coming tonight,” He says softly, not meeting my eye. “I really appreciate it and I-I’ll see you ‘round sometime, shall I?” His arms are stiff as they lock around me and he pats my back lightly.

“Yes,” I agree in a trembling voice. I nod and blink to keep the tears away. “Yes, see you ‘round.” I turn and take the offered arm of an usher.

I hold on to him tightly as we start to descend the steps. I can see the car that brought me here and I know that privacy is only a few seconds away. But I can feel Harry’s eyes on my back and I know that if I get in that car it will be the end of this relationship.

He’s turned off by my frostiness. He’ll want nothing to do with me after tonight. Shit, I’ve been such a childish prat.

I stop walking abruptly and my escort turns to me. “Miss—”

“Hold on. Just-just one moment, please,” I let go of him and turn around. My heels are pinching horridly as I rush back up the steps and back indoors. “Harry!”

He stops, his hand on the doorknob, but he turns immediately when he recognizes me. “Bryn, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” I say a bit breathlessly. This dress is awfully tight. It’s not at all suitable for running. “I’m sorry.”

He looks puzzled. “What are you—”

“For being a childish prat, for being cold and annoying and childish. For making tonight a complete and utter disaster. I’m so, so sorry. I shouldn’t have been so sensitive!” I nearly fling my clutch to the ground in my haste to explain.

But he’s smiling at my enthusiasm and he’s reaching out and touching my arms. “It’s okay, Bryn. Honest.”

“No, it’s not. I was horrible.” I take a deep breath. “Come to mine.”

His smile falters a bit, but then broadens as he understands what I’m saying. “To yours?”

“Yes,” I nod, biting on my lower lip anxiously. “Come to mine. I’ll make dinner and we can hang out without all of this,” I glance around us. “I mean, this is lovely and nice and I really like it, but—”

He silences me by putting his index fingers against my lip. His smile is warm and his eyes are twinkling in a way that lets me know he’s forgiven me, that all is well once again. “Tomorrow night?”

I nod, a girlish smile lighting up my face. “Seven o’clock?”

“I’ll be there,” He replies with a gentle smile. “See you then, Miss Matthews.” He squeezes my hand gently before he opens the door and slips back into the dining hall.