Trent listened, his rapt attention only interrupted by getting her more water and a box of tissues from his desk. When she at last finished, Alyssa felt drained and not a little defeated from listening to her own story from beginning to end.
“Wow,” she said, dabbing under her eyes. “Somehow I feel worse after putting it all out there. So much for cathartic release.”
He patted her hand between his. “Give yourself a break, sweetie. It’s too fresh; you can’t expect getting it off your chest will be enough to allow a deep breath just yet.”
She nodded. “I guess so.”
He sat back and asked, “How many times have you had your heart broken?”
She frowned and almost asked him to clarify. Then her common sense kicked her overanalytical brain in the shin and took over. The question was simple and had a simple answer. “None.”
“What?” Then he hitched a dubious eyebrow at her. “How did you make it to your twenties without getting your heart broken eleventy-billion times?”
Alyssa shrugged. “I never dated anyone seriously in high school or college and haven’t found anyone worth dating since I came back home.”
“Ah, now I see. You were waiting on him.”
“What? No. Yes. I mean, maybe.” Her shoulders sagged as she sighed. “Honestly, I don’t know. I’m so confused. It’s like I have a split personality. The older me wants to believe that love and a strong commitment can outlast anything. But the younger me keeps reminding me of what happens when you give your heart to someone and they decide they no longer want it.”
“Someone you know?” he asked with understanding coloring his tone.
Alyssa dropped her gaze to the crumpled tissue in her fingers. “My mother,” she said softly. “I remember how she was when I was young. Vibrant, energetic. Sure of herself, of who she was and her place in this world.” A smile crept through as she remembered playing with her mom, making up games, spending hours in the library together. “She was my hero.”
“And now?”
The smile fell away; the tissue became ensnared in a fist. “Now she’s a mere shell of her former self. To this day, she still says things like ‘When your father comes home’ and gets excited every time someone knocks on her door. She’ll always be waiting for him to love her back, but it’ll never happen. I refuse to be like that. To let my love for someone rule my life.”
“So what are you going to do now?”
Taking a deep breath, she released it slowly, forcing her shoulders to relax. She may have even succeeded by a degree or two. “Would you mind if I hung out in here for a while? I’m not in the mood to go masquerading anymore, but I’m not quite ready to go back to my room.” Where everything I look at will remind me of Dillon.
“Of course not. I have some emails to catch up on, so feel free to curl up with a book, order room service, or watch the show,” he said, pointing to the window. “I call this the Crow’s Nest because I can see everything that goes on down there. One way or another it’s always entertaining.”
She offered him a wan smile. “Thanks.”
Though she didn’t feel much like watching everyone have fun, it was a better option than staring at the floor and feeling sorry for herself. Standing at the window, she surveyed the ballroom. Hundreds of women in dresses of every color and style imaginable. Some chose to go big like Alyssa with the Cinderella-style gowns; others wore dresses chic enough for the red carpet. The couple dozen or so men stood out in their tuxedos, and of course, everyone wore some type of mask.
The scene was an eclectic array of people and activities, to say the very least. One area offered romance novel-inspired carnival games run by the cover models who, not surprisingly, had been relieved of their jackets and shirts. Since they still wore their black bow ties, she supposed they technically still met the required attire for a black-tie affair.
Front and center, a four-string quartet played ballroom music that no one knew how to dance to properly, but that didn’t stop them from trying. Couples spun and twirled and bumped into each other so much that from Alyssa’s vantage point, the dance floor looked more like a human bumper car ride. Two couples collided in a way that had both women spinning off in opposite directions while the men smashed together to land on the floor in an awkward embrace. Watching them was so farcical that a little chuckle escaped before she could hold it back.
“Okay, I’m intrigued. Which is another way of saying I have situational ADD and don’t want to work.” Trent sidled up beside her and peered down. “What’s giving you a case of the giggles over here?”