For one, a surprising number of people stopped me for small talk, which had to be because I was James Thomson's date.
And two, I avoided the nearest ladies' room, which had a steady flow of women pouring in and out of it, and I found one located farther away.
I locked myself in a stall and took a few moments longer to finish my business than absolutely required. There was no one else in the room besides the attendant, so there was no one to rush me.
I was so hurt by James it was hard to breathe and I was so confused by his mood swings. Why had he touched my face like that?
Why had he gotten mad when I didn't stay by his side? And why the hell had he threatened him? James gave new meaning to the old adage about "running hot and cold."
Closing my eyes, I shored up my composure. Jesus. I didn't need this.
I'd bared my emotions in the limo and I still felt horribly vulnerable – a state I'd spent countless therapy hours learning to avoid.
