Stupid, stupid. So much for her brave new life. If she had any brains at all, she’d go running back to Oliver. He might be dull as dishwater but he was steady and she’d never have to worry about competition for him. Hanna called out to her, but Natalie kept going, darting around acquaintances she didn’t want to see, damning her high heels. She should take them off, run away as quickly as possible. “Natalie, wait.” God, it was Max. Max Dorset. An attorney so out of her reach it made her blush to her toes. Why hadn’t she said his last name when she’d called him? That would have saved them both this humiliation. She’d made it through the patio to the base of the stairs when his hand on her arm stopped her. “Wait, please,” he said. “Please.” She couldn’t simply shake him off. None of this was his fault. But facing him felt like torture.
