Breaking Through (The Breaking Series Book 3) (16 page)

This part of polo—the attention, the flashlights, the cameras, the interviews, the pictures—it didn’t happen often, but I always loved it.

I still did, but for some reason, my usual excitement was missing tonight.

For some reason. As if I didn’t know the fucking reason. What? Now I was going to lie to myself?

The reason was Hilary. There. I confessed. Big difference it would make. She still wouldn’t come. And it made me very, very fucking miserable. And acknowledging that made even more miserable.

I had known I was attracted to her since the first time I laid eyes on her, but when had I become the guy who held his breath every time a blond walked past, hoping she would turn around and I would find Hilary smiling at me?

I sighed.

What did I expect? That after two days she would have recovered from a panic attack. Damn it, I didn’t even know she still had them. I thought … I thought she had recovered from them. I knew she wasn’t totally healed yet, but I had no idea it was still that bad.

“Hey,” Hannah said, slipping her arm around my waist and posing for a picture. “Smile,
guri
.”

The mask slipped into place and I smiled, wide and happy. Nobody would never know I was considering leaving this party to go check on a girl. A beautiful, sweet, quiet girl who was growing on me.

Gathering courage, I asked in a low voice, “How is Hilary?”

Hannah’s smile faltered for a brief second. “To be honest, I’m not sure. My mother said she went to her therapist this morning, so I’m hoping she’s better. She doesn’t talk much about that, no matter how much we beg her to.”

I nodded. Yeah, I could see her closing in more after the other day.

Which was why she had to let someone in. Me, maybe, if I helped with that list of hers. And, I wanted to help her. I felt like … like I should. Like I needed to.

Fucking stupid.

Leo halted beside Hannah, then Bia came to my other side, and more pictures were taken.

Then, I excused myself and went to the bar. Waiters were waltzing around the crowd, making sure everyone’s glasses were full, but I wanted a moment to myself.

I ordered a whiskey on the rocks, and then leaned my back on the counter, watching the crowd, but not really seeing anyone. Still, it seemed my mind wouldn’t cooperate, and all it did was look for a pretty blond with the most beautiful smile I had ever seen.

A girl leaned on the counter beside me, ordering a flute of champagne from the bartender. From the quick flash I got when she walked into my peripheral vision, I knew she was tall, had wavy black hair, and was wearing a red dress.

Drink in hand, she turned around and stayed there, by my side.

“Hm,” she finally said after a long while. “Maybe the rumors are wrong.”

I turned to her. “What rumors?”

A lazy smile spread over her bright red lips. “That the renowned Guilherme Fernandes likes to have company during parties.”

She was pretty. I would give her that. Under different circumstances, I could see myself flirting with her, trying to gain her favor, so maybe she would take me to her house. But the spark, the desire, the excitement of something new and crazy, the longing for that high—it wasn’t there.

I turned my attention back to the crowd. “Not
all
parties,” I said before taking a long sip of my drink.

She humphed and stormed away, probably not used to being turned down. Truth was, I also wasn’t used to turning girls down. My infamous reputation was worse than reality. Yes, I slept with several girls and never dated, not seriously. The closest I ever got to that was sleeping with the same girl for more than two or three months. However, it wasn’t as if I screwed a girl every weekend after every party. That … that didn’t even sit well with me. The rumor was there, though, and some girls seemed to like it, so I never did anything to stop it.

Until now.

Now, when I thought of a certain blond hearing more and more about said rumors, I cringed.

I pushed against the bar and walked to our little group. Leo, Hannah, Bia, and Garrett talked about the game we had played on the improvised field the event organizers had set up, laughing that we had to strut around on our horses in such a tiny space, and also wearing suits and dress shoes. Ri, Lauren, Pedro, and Iris were right beside us. Lauren was telling them something about her job.

I smiled. The guys looked great. I knew that. I had looked in the mirror before leaving my apartment. But the girls looked stunning. I narrowed my eyes for a moment and pictured Hilary beside us, wearing a beautiful party dress, probably green to emphasize her pretty eyes, smiling at the cameras, and laughing of the jokes we told when posing so we all would smile and laugh more naturally. She would complete the picture and make our group richer. Whole.

If only.

Chapter Twelve

The telephone beside my computer rang.

“Hilary speaking.”

“Your three o’clock appointment is here,” Sonya said. “Design room three is free.”

“Great. Take them there, please. I’ll be right over.”

With a smile, I hung up and stood from my chair. I straightened my pencil skirt and shirt, picked up my A3-sized folder from my side desk, and headed to design room three.

I opened the door and stepped in. “Hi, ladies.”

“Hilary!” My sister rushed to me and embraced me. “How are you?” she asked in a low whisper. “I was worried about you.”

“I’m good,” I told her. It wasn’t entirely a lie.

Next in line was Bia, then Lauren and Iris. Gabi was facetiming through Bia’s phone.

I grabbed the phone from Bia. “Hi,
guria.
Nice of you to show up.”

Gabi laughed. “Yeah, right. I wish I was there.”

“But you’re coming soon, right?” I asked, taking a seat on one of the white leather sofas. “You need to try your dress on prior to the wedding, you know.”

“I know,” Gabi said. “I’m in Greece right now, and I plan to go back to Brazil in three weeks, but now I’m thinking of detouring through Santa Barbara so I can try it on, or at least, so you can get my measurements right.”

“That sounds great.” I handed the phone back to Bia and opened a large drawing pad. “So, Hannah, wanna tell me what you have in mind for you and your bridesmaids?”

Seated all around me, the girls turned their gazes to my sister.

“Well,” Hannah said. “You know me. I want something romantic, something with a sweet country style, but not hillbilly or heavy country, please. No plaid or flannel, I mean.” She moved her hands all over the place and she was rambling. Yup, my sister was anxious about the wedding. “I’ve decided on yellow for you guys.” I groaned and she froze, staring at me with wide eyes. “What?”

“I’m blond and pale. Yellow will look awesome on me,” I said, my words dripping with sarcasm.

Hannah’s eyes bugged. “No, no, don’t say that to me now. I’ve been thinking about this for weeks. It took me a long time to decide on yellow, and—”

“It’s okay,” I interrupted her. “It’s your wedding, and I’m sure yellow will look pretty.” Just not on me. But that wasn’t the point.

Hannah kept on talking about the several designs she had in mind, the ones she had seen on magazines and on TV, and how she wanted everyone to look like. Then she rambled about her dress. Bottom line, she wasn’t sure of anything other than the colors. White for her, yellow for the girls and me. I took some notes about some tiny details she mentioned, and I planned on incorporating those in my drawings before presenting to them.

While Hannah went on, I took their measurements, and we already scheduled another meeting in a few days so we could go over the designs and fabrics.

At some point, Sonya brought coffee and pastries, and the appointment became a friendly get-together. Now we just needed some drinks and we would call it happy hour!

Of course, the girls stayed until my quitting time, and they tried to convince me to go to a pub, one that allowed eighteen and older, and continue our happy hour. I lied that I was still feeling a little under the weather from the fake cold I had gotten during the weekend. Hannah’s gaze told me she knew I was lying, but I didn’t care.

I wasn’t ready to go to a bar for happy hour again.

I wasn’t ready for anything.

***

I was paying attention to my phone when the elevator doors opened and I stepped in. Noticing someone was inside, I looked up. An uneasy feeling spread through my arms.

“
Bom dia
,” Gui said, pulling the earbuds from his ears. He had on dark gray sweatpants, a black Montenegro shirt, and black sneakers.

“Morning,” I said, standing beside him.

He pressed the underground button on the elevator’s panel for me, retreated to the other side of the elevator, far from me, and we both stared at the closed doors while the elevator moved down.

Gui shifted his weight. “Going to work?”

“Yes.” I glanced at him. “And I guess you’re going running?”

He nodded. “
Sim
.”

The elevators doors opened at the lobby, and Gui stepped out.

“Have a nice day,” I said as the doors started closing.

When I thought I was able to breathe, Gui shot out his arms between the closing doors and they opened again.

“All right, I can’t just leave like that,” he said, standing right in the path of the elevator’s opened doors.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I want to know how you’re doing. I would love to hear you’re doing better and I certainly would like to know why the hell you didn’t go to our event on Saturday.”

My jaw dropped. “Hm.”

“So?”

I glanced around him. “You can’t just hold the elevator like that.”

“Fine.” He stepped inside and the doors closed. I stepped back, bumping my back against the mirrored wall as the elevator started going down again. “Wait. Does this bother you?”

“W-what bothers me?”

“Being in a closed space, alone with me.” He stayed as far away as he could. “I’m sor—”

“No!” I felt offended that he would suggest that. But then again, I never gave him a reason not to think that. “The problem isn’t you, Gui.” I sighed, not believing I was about to confess one more thing to him. “The problem is males. Men in general.”

He relaxed a tiny bit. “Okay, now tell me, how are you?”

The elevator doors opened and he stepped back, exiting the closed box. I followed him, noticing he was walking me to my car.

“I’m fine,” I said. An automatic response. What did he want me to say? I wasn’t unwell, but I wasn’t one hundred percent either. “I’ll be fine.”

“You always say that.”

“What?”

“That you
will
be fine, as in you aren’t fine now, but one day you will be.”

Hurt flashed through me. “Well, I do hope I’ll be better one day, otherwise what reason do I have to live?” My voice was much louder than I had intended.

Gui flinched. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

“And I didn’t mean to yell.”

I unlocked my car, but Gui leaned on the door, not allowing me to enter and flee from his sudden questioning.

“What are you doing to make yourself feel better?”

I shrugged. “Working, drawing, worrying about Hannah’s wedding.”

“I understand you love your work. I love mine too, but that’s not everything. You have to have more.”

I put my hands on my waist and stared at him. “Oh, yeah, do you have more?”

“Friends, family, parties. I’m always out and about.”

I knew what he meant by out and about. Gui was known for partying more than necessary and for having several girlfriends—or actually, a new girl every other week.

I scrunched my nose. “I’m more like a homebody.”

“That isn’t what I heard. I heard you used to be a firecracker. You were always out and about too.”

“That was before …” I trailed off, averting my eyes.

“I know. I just wish you had that fire in you again. I really would like to see that. It’s probably a beautiful sight.”

I crossed my arms. “What do you want me to say, Gui? I suffered a major trauma, and my therapist says I’ve made a lot of progress in the last three years. If all goes well, it’ll continue like that and one day
I’ll be fine
.”

“I want you to say you’ll let me help you again.”

I shook my head. “I’m not sure that is a good idea.”

“Why? Are you afraid of me?” He gave a step back, finally freeing my car’s door. “I told you I would nev—”

“Never hurt me. I know.” To prove my point, I reached over and rested my hand on his upper arm. My mind registered that my palm rested on his hard biceps. I gulped, but didn’t move my hand away. “I trust you, Gui. I swear I do. The problem isn’t you. It’s me. I’m a wimp, I’m weak, and I’m really, really scared.”