Struck from the Record (17 page)

Fuck
.

Clay took a step backward. Andrea turned her head in his direction, as if sensing that he was there. For a moment, he wanted to let her see that he was there…to let her know that he now knew. But he’d promised he wouldn’t ruin this for her. And, before she could catch a glimpse of him, he darted out of the room.

His chest was heaving as he walked purposefully back through the art exhibit, through the crowds of people, and past the bar line that was still holding strong.

Just as he reached the exit, he realized he was still holding the invitation. The one chance he’d thought he had to win her back. Without another look, he tossed the invitation onto the top of the trash can before leaving the gallery and Andrea behind.

As soon as he got to his car, he headed straight to his favorite bar.
Forget giving up booze. Forget giving up women. Forget broadening my horizons and looking forward to a new life.
He just wanted to get black-out drunk and forget he’d ever been this much of a pussy.

He pulled out his phone and blindly dialed Gigi’s number. He didn’t even know why. He could have called the guys. They were his normal crew when he wanted to get hammered, but he wasn’t feeling up to dealing with their idiocy tonight.

Gigi answered right away. “Hey, how did it go?” she asked on the other line.

“Like shit.”

“Eesh. That’s not good. Are you okay? What are you doing now?”

“Bar,” he stated plainly, ignoring the other question. “You want to meet me?”

“That’s not such a good idea.”

“It’s the only idea.”

“Drunk in a bar in your current mood is bad news bears. Why don’t you just come over here? We can talk about it.”

“Don’t really want to talk.”

“Fine,” she grumbled. “Then, I have alcohol here.”

“Whiskey?” he croaked.

“Yeah. I have a bottle lying around here somewhere.”

“All right. Where’s your apartment?”

“It’s near Dupont Circle. I’ll text you the address, but be safe. You sound super pissed.”

“That’s one word for it.”

Gigi’s apartment was situated in the middle of a trendy neighborhood downtown. He could see why she lived here. Not too far from the office, but close enough to walk to anything she could really need.

He walked up the steps to the second-floor apartment and knocked on the door. She answered almost immediately. The place was extremely neat and tidy with a lot of clean, modern furniture. It was clear she didn’t spend a lot of time in the place. The girl worked too much.

“Hey,” she said, shutting the door behind him. “I found a bottle of Jack. Hope that’s all right. I know you prefer Crown.”

“That’s fine,” he said.

Clay turned around, and his stare pinned her where she was standing.

“What’s up?” she asked cautiously.

But he didn’t answer. He just walked her backward until her back hit the front door. He dropped his mouth down on top of hers and kissed her. Desperately, hungrily, with no thought for consequences or repercussions.

Gigi pushed hard against Clay’s chest hard, and her breath was coming out in spasms. When he looked at her, her brown eyes were as big as saucers. His hands were on either side of her head, caging her in.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she shouted at him. “You can’t just do that! That’s not how this works. That’s not how any of this works.”

“Gigi—”

“No!”

She shoved him aside and started pacing the room in the same way he’d seen her do a hundred times while she was trying to work out a problem. Clearly, he was the problem.

“This is not who I am. And this is not what this is.”

“Then, go to the gala with me.”

“What? Ugh! No!” she nearly spit. “I’m not going to that stupid party with you.”

“Why not?”

“Because you and I are bad news. We’re way too goddamn similar in personality, and you’d drive me fucking crazy. You already drive me crazy. It’d never work.
Plus
,” she cried, “you’re still head over heels for your ex, who I happen to think is in the right here. You just went to see her, and it clearly didn’t go well, so you’re taking that out on me, which, I might add, is not fair!”

“She’s with someone else,” Clay admitted, finally letting the weight of what he’d witnessed settle on his shoulders.

“That doesn’t mean that you need to be!”

“Come on, Gigi. Go with me,” he prodded.

“No! Are you hearing yourself?”

“Come on.”

“As a friend,” she countered. “Just friends, Clay.”

“You sure about that?” he prodded, still hoping to lose himself in the moment to forget the real issue. “I can be really charming.”

“I am not one of the girls you meet at the bar with your stupid friends. This doesn’t fix anything. Dealing with the issue fixes things.” Gigi crossed her arms over her chest. “You need to deal with this, not try to forget it between a pair of legs or down a bottle. So, I’ll go to the gala with you but only as friends.”

“I’ll have you know,” he said, sinking into the chair next to the door, resigned and heartbroken, “I’m no good at that.”

Gigi puffed out a breath and sat across from him. She tucked her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on top of them. “You’ve been doing just fine at it so far.”

“Thanks,” he said.

After a minute of silence, Gigi poured him a drink and took one for herself. She took a sip and then asked, “So, did she really turn you down?”

He shook his head. “No. I didn’t even ask her. She seemed so happy with him. I just couldn’t hurt her like that.”

Gigi squeezed her eyes shut for a second. “Damn. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He leaned back and closed his eyes. “I was the idiot who thought it was a good idea. Didn’t realize what I had until I lost it.”

Chapter 16

CAREFUL WHAT YOU SAY

The annual Cooper & Nielson gala was in full swing by the time Clay and Gigi arrived. She’d shocked the shit out of him when she appeared in makeup that accentuated rather than masked her freckles and a floor-length burgundy dress that hugged the curves she normally hid in her work clothes. He approved.

He’d gone with a tailored Tom Ford tuxedo for the occasion. Though he felt it was wasted effort. He wanted to be in and out of the event as quickly as possible. It had been a month since he’d seen Andrea with Bad Suit at the gallery, and being here just brought up all the memories.

He missed her.

It fucking sucked.

Three fucking months without her, and he was still thinking about her. But he wanted her to be happy, and as much as he wanted to beat the shit out of that douche, he couldn’t deny her the happiness she’d so obviously had. He just didn’t want to see or hear about it either.

He worried that would be difficult with Brady and Liz’s upcoming nuptials. He was in the bridal party, but with how close Liz had made it seem she and Andrea had gotten, he figured she would get an invite with or without him. That meant, going to his brother’s wedding was feeling more and more like anticipating a funeral he’d dug his own grave for.

He and Gigi had just returned from the bar with drinks and were walking around and schmoozing with all the right people. Some of their colleagues kept giving them sidelong glances. He and Gigi had been spending a lot of time together. More and more, he was glad that she’d stopped him from pushing for a relationship…just like he’d stopped it from day one.

It was better to keep their relationship business professional. Plus, it was nice to have a real friend. Someone he actually felt he could rely on. Someone he wasn’t trying to fuck. Well, at least not actively trying to fuck.

Gigi was going on and on with some guy beside Clay whom he had never met.

The man suddenly looked over at Clay and grinned. “Aha! A Maxwell. You were a lucky get for Cooper and Nielson!”

Clay laughed awkwardly.

“I’m surprised your brother didn’t go this route first. Though it didn’t seem to matter. He still got into Congress, didn’t he? If by the skin of his teeth.”

Clay decided right then he didn’t like this guy. Whoever he was. “Brady has always been exceptionally lucky.”

“He’d have to be to get reelected after that catastrophe.”

“Careful,” he said evenly. “That catastrophe is my future sister-in-law.”

“Of course, of course. I didn’t mean any offense. But what about you?” he asked, quickly changing the subject. “Do you have aim for the political arena? I wouldn’t mind investing in a young face, if you know what I mean.”

“No,” he answered blandly. “I’ve never had an interest in politics.”

For a moment, he wished that Andrea were here to navigate this situation with him. She knew what this kind of statement did to him…how manic it made him…how much he just wanted to lay into this guy.

“Come on, Gigi.”

Gigi hurried after him. She grabbed his arm as they veered toward a table for the dinner and silent auction portion of the event.

“Man, you were short with him,” she said.

“He shouldn’t talk shit about stuff he doesn’t understand.”

“I think he was totally harmless. If anything, it was a compliment that he wanted to back you if you ran. He’s a huge donor, you know?”

“I didn’t. Though I guessed. And it’s not a compliment,” he told her, staring her down. He’d forgotten how little people knew about the system when they hadn’t been in it their whole life. “He just offered to buy me for his interests, which means he’s already associated the Maxwell name with sellouts.”

Gigi gave him an uneasy look. “That’s not what he meant…”

“Yes, it is.”

“Okay. Well, even if it was, you clearly didn’t take his offer, so just ignore it.”

He shook his head and took his seat. He couldn’t explain to Gigi how much it bothered him. His father’s approval had always hung just out of his grasp. Brady had always had it, of course. But Clay had always been determined to get it outside of the political arena. To be good enough for dear old dad without the backing of political supporters and a carefully planned election. He’d keep on dreaming for that day to come.

Dinner seemed to take forever. Clay wasn’t in a mood to entertain, but he smiled and talked with the people they were seated with for the event. Soon enough, plates were cleared, and the silent auction began, raising money for the local orphan charity that Cooper & Nielson sponsored. At this point, people could walk around and mingle.

Clay was itching to be back on his feet and away from these people. “I’m going to get us drinks. Vodka?” he asked, resting his hand on the back of Gigi’s chair.

“Please.” She looked up and him and smiled.

He returned with drinks in hand and extricated Gigi from the conversation she had been having.

“Thank you for saving my life,” she said. “Those women were so annoying. Is it about time that we can leave?” She teetered in her high heels.

“One more sweep, and then we’ll go.”

They were walking a circuit through the room during the silent auction. A man pressed pieces of paper in their hands so that they could bid on items. Gigi tried to cajole Clay into putting money down for the seats behind home plate at the Washington Nationals baseball game. He laughed and added a sticker to the list. He was more of a basketball person himself, but any sports were entertaining to watch from the best seats in the house.

Gigi was still laughing when Clay stopped dead in his tracks. The next thing displayed for the auction was artwork with a sign next to that read,
Donated by Billings Gallery
.

“What?” Gigi asked, reading the sign.

But it wasn’t the sign that kept him from answering. It was the stunning blonde standing in front of him in a long black evening gown.

“Andrea,” he whispered in shock.

Gigi squeaked next to him.

“Clay,” she responded.

The energy between them crackled. He hadn’t been face-to-face with Andrea in three whole months. Three very long months. While he’d seen her beautiful face a month ago, it was different, looking at her. It was worse, knowing she was with someone else and whatever was passing between them didn’t matter.

“What are you doing here?” he asked immediately.

“As you can tell, I donated some paintings for the auction. You know I support the orphan charities. This felt like too good of an opportunity to pass up,” she said softly. Her words seemed to hold two meanings. As if she were here to see him, as if this were her opportunity, but her eyes told a different story.

“I’m just going to…” Gigi muttered behind him.

“Oh, sorry. Where are my manners? Andrea, this is my date, Gigi. Gigi, Andrea.”

“Hi,” Gigi muttered, politely extending her hand.

Andrea took it and shook it firmly. “Have we met before?”

“I don’t think so.”

“You look very familiar.”

Gigi retrieved her hand and smiled warily. “I’m sure I would remember you if we’d met. If you’ll just excuse me, I’m going to, uh…go get another drink.”

Both of them glanced down at her still full glass, but she disappeared without another word.

“Charming,” Andrea said.

“Yeah. Gigi’s great,” Clay said, not letting himself fall into the trap she was laying. “We work at Cooper and Nielson together. When did you start your own gallery?” The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them.

“It’s recent. Still in the works,” she said vaguely. “Look, I really hoped I’d run into you tonight.”

“Really?” he asked.

“I just wanted to apologize for hanging up on you.”

“Oh.”

“I know it was a while ago, but I just thought…we could still be civil to one another…even if we’ve…” She cleared her throat and glanced behind his shoulder. “Even if we’ve moved on.”

Clay clenched his hands at his sides.
She’d come all the way here and cornered me to tell me that we should be civil? Is this about the wedding? Is she worried I’d do something stupid?

Well, he’d been the one to walk out of that art gallery. He wanted her to be happy. If she needed him to say that all of this was fine, that her being with someone else was fine, to get through a whole day at the wedding, then he’d do that.

He held his hands up to stop her from continuing. “It’s fine,” he said roughly. “I get it. You and I are…civil. If you’ll excuse me.”