"Nothing like a little dose of reality to bring me back and remind me of what I really am." The smile turns brittle, and she inclines her head toward the rest of the partygoers circling in the courtyard. "You need to go talk to everyone else and make them all happy that they got a chance to speak to the owner of the new and rather impressive DeLuca Winery, don't you think?"
I let my hand drop. "Can I see you? Later tonight?"
She slowly shakes her head. "I don't think that's a good idea, Mr. DeLuca."
And with those last words, she walks away, leaving me in the dust.
Chapter Nine
Bryn
THE PHONE HAS been ringing constantly since I got into work this morning, but I blame that on the aftermath of the party. Everyone's looking for Matt, including me. Though I shouldn't. I'm not sure if I'm quite ready to face him yet.
I stayed home the entire weekend, not daring to go out, barely glancing at my phone. I ignored the calls and texts from Ivy and Marina, ignored the single text from Matt too. It wasn't work related so I figured I was safe. The text had come Saturday afternoon, asking if I'd survived the night okay, and I didn't bother answering.
How could I tell him the night had been a revelation? That I realized exactly who I am and what people saw when they looked at me? Well, specifically what men see, minus the bland outfits and boring hair.
That hurt, though deep down inside, I knew it. That's why I hid, pretending to be something I'm not.
Avoiding Ivy and Marina was tough because I would've loved to confide in them but what if my confession turned them against me? All the old worries and insecurities swamped me these last few days. It's hard to shake those old habits when they'd been such a part of my life for so long. Men don't respect me, they never have. I didn't have many friends growing up, and I definitely haven't had any since I've come to California.
I'm scared if I tell Ivy and Marina my fears, what happened between Matt and me, what his dad said about me, they'd see me differently. Dumb, I know since they're the ones who convinced me to go after Matt in the first place, but I can't help it. I'm afraid they'll know what I really am versus what I present. A silly dumb girl who is only thought of for her sexuality, not her brains or her skills.
And I don't know if I could face them, seeing the judgment in their eyes.
Besides, I know they kept reaching out to me because they only wanted to gossip about Friday night's party or analyze what happened between Matt and me. I'd rather not think about it at all. The more I do, the more upset I become, especially when the things his dad said to me come into play.
I bet you chase her around your desk all the damn time, trying to get your hands on that ass. I know I would.
Spending the majority of the weekend in bed watching bad TV and eating junk food didn't do anything to help my mood either. By the time I got my act together and prepared to go into work, I had bags under my eyes, my skin was kind of pale, I felt five pounds heavier, and I had a zit on my chin.
Great.
I showed up right on time though, not wanting to disappoint anyone-specifically Matt. Not wearing any beige or my severe hairstyle either, deciding to give in and go with what's natural for me, not the phony front I've put up since I've arrived here. Clad in the dress I wore last Monday, with the black background and blue and green flower and bird pattern, I leave my hair loose and hanging down my back.
I'm tired of the facade. Of being something I'm not. If I had my slightly trampy clothes from my time in Hollywood or even my wardrobe from Cactus, I'd be wearing them. Today. Right now.
But I don't have any of those clothes anymore. I burned most of them. It had felt like a cleansing of sorts, one I'd needed to start fresh.
Now I wish I had them. Just to remind me of my roots and who I really am. That reminder would fuel me and keep me strong for what I'm about to do today. Something I need to do.
I need to quit.
But Matt showed up late which made me antsy. He came in just past nine with a harried expression on his face, rushing into the room with the determination of a man on a mission. He'd dressed casually, jeans and a polo shirt that fit him to perfection.
My mouth literally waters when I see him now.
But what else is new?
"Had a meeting with the Napa Valley Vintners this morning," he says, stopping just in front of my desk. His mind is going a mile a minute, I can tell. "I need you to look into flights to New York City in a few weeks. We're going to attend the Savor Wine Guild annual convention. Had no idea it was going down, so I need to make arrangements quick."
I grab a pen and start jotting down notes. "What are the dates?"
"We'd have to leave two weeks from today," he says, whipping out his phone and scrolling through his emails.