It wasn’t that I’d gone back to hating her guts. It was just that after our heart-to-heart in London, I didn’t know how to be around her. Even though I was so grateful for the way she’d helped me during Neil’s momentary pharmaceutical breakdown, I felt unreasonably betrayed by her. It wasn’t her fault that her brother was writing a book, and I could tell that she felt really bad about it. Unfortunately, our history together made it hard to not resent her for her brother’s actions.
When she cornered me by the bar, I forced my friendliest smile. “Hey, Valerie.”
“Sophie.” She was forcing her niceness just as hard I was forcing mine. “You look very pretty tonight. Herve Leger?”
“Um, yeah.” I nodded and grinned like an idiot. I didn’t care so much about her approval, but she appreciated fashion. I couldn’t hate that. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
She plucked at the front of her asymmetrical silver sweater—I was pretty sure it was Armani—and said, “Well, that’s kind of you, but I’ve been at the office all day. Never a dull moment.”
Something mean tightened up inside of me. I didn’t know that I would ever be over losing my job at Porteras. It had been totally my fault, but I still felt a prick of anger every time I remembered that Valerie now ran the place I’d loved so much.
“I’m not staying,” Valerie went on. I noticed she had her purse over her arm, so she must have been serious. She rummaged in her bag with one hand. “I have something…”
“You drove all the way out here to say happy birthday to Neil and drive back?” If I had fur, it would stand up. Oh, Neil, I drove four hours round trip to wish you happy birthday, because you’re so special to me. But then, I noticed what she was pulling from her purse, and my heart sank.
“I wanted to give you this. It’s an advanced copy.” She looked furtively over her shoulder then held out a book emblazoned with ADVANCED UNCORRECTED PROOF NOT FOR RESALE across the cover. Above a photo of a man with Valerie’s sparkling hazel eyes and perfect cheekbones was the title Don’t I Know You?, and below, Steven Stern.
I quickly tucked the book under my arm and glanced around to make sure Neil wasn’t near. “What the hell are you doing? Why did you bring it now?”
“Because I couldn’t think of a better time to do it,” she whispered angrily. She took a sip of her drink to compose herself. “I’m not in the Hamptons for Neil’s birthday. I’m staying with a friend for the weekend. It made sense to drop it off when I had an excuse to be here. You can give it to him when the time is right.”
“When is this supposed to come out?” I asked, still on the lookout for Neil. There was no way I would let this spoil his birthday.
“Late June.” Valerie looked down, avoiding the unspoken. We both knew that Neil and I were getting married in June, and that Emma’s baby would be born later that month. The timing was beyond terrible.
“I’m going to go put this away somewhere. There’s no reason this needs to ruin his night.” I took a step back, and Valerie grabbed my wrist. It was so unlike her to touch me at all, especially so aggressively, that it startled both of us.
She jerked her hand back and smoothed down the front of her blouse before saying, “Sorry. I just wanted… Look, I know you know Neil better than I do…” She hesitated, as though it pained her to admit that, or she just plain didn’t agree with it. “But don’t let this simmer too long. I don’t want to see this hurt the two of you more than it already will.”
I swallowed and nodded, but I couldn’t think of anything to say. So, I motioned to the book and turned, and hurried away to deal with my confusion. I headed to the bedroom—the safest place, where no one but Neil or I would find it—my head swimming. Valerie didn’t want this to hurt us? A year ago, she’d still been plotting to break us up. Was this some kind of new manipulation?
Ugh. What kind of a bitch was I that I jumped to nefarious purposes before just taking Valerie’s concern at face value? We’d made our truce, so why couldn’t I stick to it?
I went to our bedroom and looked around helplessly for somewhere to hide the book. I settled on the one place that Neil would, surprisingly, never look: my underwear drawer. I had a lot of panties, but he never went rummaging through the three-foot wide drawer of neatly folded underpants. He was usually more interested in the panties I was wearing at any given moment. I pushed the book under a stack of the least interesting ones, closed the drawer then made a quick visit to the bathroom, so I’d have cover for my disappearance.
Sure enough, Neil’s radar had kicked in while I was gone. He met me in the hallway with a worried look on his face. “Darling, is everything all right? Ian said he saw you talking to Valerie then you ran off.”
“Ian’s here?” I brightened up at that. I’d been wanting to see Gena for a while; maybe I had a little crush.
The corner of Neil’s mouth lifted. “He is. But Gena, sadly, is not.”
“Huh. I wonder why?” My heart sank with disappointment. But it wasn’t like I couldn’t see Gena another time. Besides, with my mom here, it would have been awkward trying to sneak in freaky couples’ sex.
Neil’s eyebrows rose. “I didn’t think to ask him. He brought it up before I did, so I wasn’t sure I should press for more of an explanation than what he gave me.”
I wasn’t above pressing. My heart got a little tangle in it. I hoped Gena hadn’t stayed away because of me. Because of us, I quickly amended my thought. “Which was?”
“Just that she was sorry she couldn’t attend.” Neil paused. “If you have a chance…”
“I’ll see if I can’t just discreetly find the answer,” I promised.
I spent the evening trying to balance being polite to Neil’s friends while not neglecting mine. When I finally managed to get Holli and Deja away from my mom for a second, Holli got her maid-of-honor on, in a big way.
“Okay, so, we’ve been thinking…” Holli bounced on the balls of her feet and bit her bottom lip.
Deja rolled her eyes and laughed. “Fine, tell her. Even though we were trying to keep it a secret,” she added in an aside to me.
“We want to take you to Vegas for a bachelorette weekend!” Holli squealed.
I’d pretty much accepted as prophecy that Holli would pick Las Vegas as my bachelorette party destination. Especially since she’d so enjoyed the bachelorette weekend we’d had there prior to her wedding.
“We also want you to pay for it!” she added, still just as excited.
I’d also anticipated that. “Yes. We’ll take the jet, and it will rock.”
“I don’t think that’s fair,” Deja said, shaking her head slowly. She had to know that she was beaten already. “It’s Sophie’s bachelorette party. We’re supposed to pay for it.”
“Yeah, but Sophie has a shit ton of money, and we don’t. It’s what she would want,” Holli explained gently, like she was describing my wishes in a eulogy.
“And I don’t want to stay in whatever off-strip murder hotel Holli could put us up in with her off-Broadway paycheck,” I teased. “We’re so getting the Spa Villa suite at the Hard Rock this time. Ameé Afton said it was incredible.”
“I don’t know who that is,” Holli said, and quickly rolled on, “Is it going to be, like, a spa, or hard rock? Because you know what I prefer.”
“A healthy mix of both,” I confirmed. “Think of it: in room treatments. Private plunge pool to cool off after we come back from dancing—”
“And drowning because we’re so drunk,” Deja snorted.
Holli’s jaw dropped, and her eyebrows scrunched together. “Well, see if I’m going to ask you for money for the adult entertainment, then. I’ll just let Sophie pay for it, now.”
“Ugh, no male exotic dancers, please,” I begged her.
She tilted her head. “Male?”
I spotted Ian across the room, by himself. Which was odd, because he knew people here. Instead of mingling, he stood by the terrace doors, gazing out at the softly lit yard. His shoulders slumpe
“Hey, um.” I didn’t know exactly how to break away from Holli and Deja discreetly, because they would have all kinds of questions about why I left them to go talk to one of Neil’s hot—at least by my standards—friends in a private locale. I settled on, “That’s a friend of Neil’s over there, and I haven’t said hi to him yet. Can you guys excuse me a minute?”
“Sure thing!” Holli agreed. “I’m going to go make your stepdaughter uncomfortable.”
“No, she isn’t,” Deja promised, taking Holli by the arm and leading her in the opposite direction.
I shook my head and crossed the room to Ian. He didn’t notice me until I was right next to him, and he startled.
“You look like you’re thinking about something heavy,” I tried to joke.
He smiled weakly. “I was admiring the view. But now, I’m not sure which view I like better.” He gestured to my dress. “That thing should be fucking illegal.”
I tossed my hair over my shoulder. “Well, it is Neil’s birthday, after all.”
“And what a present to unwrap.” He took a swallow from his glass. The lines at the corners of his eyes were hard.
I had to ask. “So, Gena didn’t come tonight?”
“She’s very sorry she had to miss it,” Ian apologized, grimacing as though the alcohol bothered him. I knew that wasn’t it; we could afford the damn good stuff.
The way he looked down at the glass in his hand made my Sophie sense tingle harder. “Ian…it’s not my place to pry, but…is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” he said, but he shook his head while he said it.
“Ian?” I prompted again, and he looked up. And oh my god, his eyes were all red. On instinct, I grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the kitchen, and he followed without resistance. I murmured an apology to a passing member of the catering staff as we crossed paths in the doorway.
Once we out of earshot of people who knew us, I asked, “What’s going on?”
“Gena and I have decided to separate.” He rubbed one hand down his face, dropping all pretense of happy, not-a-care-in-the-world Ian. He looked utterly miserable.
I reeled at the shock. A few weeks ago, Ian and Gena had seemed like the perfect couple. But, a few weeks ago, they’d also had sex with us, so… “It’s not because—”
He knew what I was going to ask, and cut me off. “No, no. Her lifestyle had nothing to do with it.”
That “her” was an important distinction, and it made my heart hurt. “It wasn’t your lifestyle, too?”
“Ah, fuck me. It had everything to do with it.” He took a long time to continue, his gaze canting to the window. “You’re together for a while, you get pretty fucking tired, don’t you? You have to try new things. And maybe you’re okay with some things, but not with others. Gena needs someone who fits her better.”
Panic fluttered in my chest. Was that going to happen to Neil and me? I backed up a step, like he was contagious. You can’t catch divorce, you idiot. “Oh god. Ian, I’m so sorry. I hope sleeping with me wasn’t one of those things you weren’t okay with. I would feel terrible for having put you in that position if you were.”
He laughed softly, conveying more sadness and regret than I would have ever expected to hear from him. “No. I wanted to fuck you. Believe me, at Emma’s wedding, I was having impure thoughts about you.”
“Impure thoughts?” I laughed, and he laughed with me. “I thought you were flirting a little bit. For what it’s worth, I’m really sorry to see you two breaking up.”
“Me, too.” The mask of good humor was back. “But life surprises you, doesn’t it? Maybe I’ll meet someone more my speed. Honestly, I just want to settle down and have a fucking baby before I’m shitting in nappies myself.”
“I’m sure you can find someone to do all that with you.” I wasn’t just trying to make him feel better. A guy like Ian—handsome, financially secure, sensitive, artistic, and ready to start a family—would not stay single in New York for long.
“Go on,” he said, nodding toward the door. “Enjoy the party. And don’t tell Neil. I don’t want to ruin his birthday.”
We both slipped from the kitchen just as Neil was entering the dining room. He gave me a puzzled expression, and I mouthed, “later.” He appeared to mull over whether to pursue it, but his crooked smile told me he’d decided against it.
I thought back to Neil’s party the year before. Two hundred people, packed into a nightclub with deafening music and free-flowing booze, but it didn’t hold a candle to being with actual friends in our own house. But that damned book was always in the back of my mind, beating like a telltale heart just down the hallway.
I was going to have to tell Neil about it, and Valerie was right, the sooner the better. But how?
CHAPTER NINE
After the last guest had gone—and Neil had unsuccessfully tried to badger Emma and Michael into accepting a guest room because of the late hour—we ended up in the kitchen. Slumped side by side at the table with a piece of cake between us, we were stealing a quiet moment to celebrate the day together.
Neil drowsily contemplated the bite on his fork. “I’m torn between eating until I burst, or stopping now in the hopes of having birthday sex tonight.”
I sighed happily. “I give you birthday sex three-hundred-and-sixty-five days a year, baby.”
“That you do.” He took the final bite and pushed the plate toward me. “Tell me what happened with Ian?”
My sense of easy peace punctured somewhat. “He and Gena are separating.”
“Oh, that’s a shame.” The pitch of Neil’s voice rose a little with shock.
“Did he say anything to you that night that they were here?” Maybe anything to do with not wanting to sleep with us, that I would have really liked to know before we’d done it? But I knew better. If Ian had expressed doubt to Neil, nothing would have happened that night.
“No,” Neil answered automatically, but he paused, a vertical frown line appearing between his brows. “Nothing that caught my attention at the time. But, in hindsight, I do recall that he made a remark about things being the same as ever with Gena’s family. They don’t like him.”
“And Gena said something when we were in the kitchen,” I remembered aloud. “She said he drinks a lot.”
“That he does,” Neil agreed. He drummed his fingertips on the table. “I was a bit worried about him leaving tonight. I sent him off with Tony.”
“Good idea.” The thought that his drinking might have had something to do with Ian’s split made my stomach turn over.
As always, Neil picked up on my subtle shift in mood; the man had missed a calling as a CIA interrogator. He reached across the table and covered my hand with his, pinning my gaze just as he pinned my fingers. “Sophie. I will never let that happen.”
I nodded, but I didn’t trust myself to speak. I didn’t want to cry or fight about this on his birthday.
He lifted my hand between both of his and brought it to his lips. With a simple touch, he reassured me and lightened our brief moment of darkness, without bypassing the subject entirely. “You’ll be pleased to know that I had two drinks tonight, in total. And only one of them was whiskey.”
I traced a spiral on the tabletop. “I know that bar is really, really cool. And you stocked it up and everything—”
He sat back with a resigned sigh.
“Look,” I began, a little defensively. “All the websites I’ve been reading said you have to remove temptation. How are you going to quit drinking if you’re living in a house with a bunch of booze, and a very attractive setting to drink it in?”
“It’s not for drinking, it’s for…entertaining,” he finished. “I can have alcohol in the house. I don’t have to drink it.”
“A man of restraint, as always.” I teased, leaning into him.
“Or a man who likes restraints,” he reminded me. “Speaking of which…”
A little zing went up my spine. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me out of my chair then boosted me into his lap so quickly that I lost my breath. Our lips were centimeters apart. My pulse beat in the hollow of my throat, and I imagined his mouth there, his tongue swirling over that throbbing hollow.
I remembered he still held my hand when he suddenly jerked it toward the cake. I squealed and tried to pull away, dragging both of our fingers through the frosting, and we laughed so hard we bumped foreheads.
“Well, I was coming in here to see if you needed help cleaning up, but it looks like you’re just making more of a mess.” Mom shuffled from the swinging kitchen door to the island with a tray of glasses in her hands. “I think the caterer missed these.”
“No, those are from the bar.” I shook cake from my fingers. “Julia will get them in the morning.”
“I don’t mind.” Mom slid the tray onto the counter and flipped on the tap. I felt Neil tense behind me, and stood. I could have stayed in his lap all night, but obviously not with her right there.
“You don’t have to go on a cleaning spree,” I reminded her as I crossed the kitchen with the plate of mangled cake.
Neil got up and grabbed a paper towel to wipe frosting off his hands. “This sounds as though it may take a moment. I’m going to go to bed.”
“I’ll be right there,” I told him over my shoulder. Watching him walk to the door, I got a little shiver. The man had absolutely no intention of turning in; when I got to that bedroom, I had no idea what would be waiting. But I knew I would like it.
“You don’t have to stay up with me,” Mom said, checking her watch, a knock-off Pandora style with round charms. “It’s almost two-thirty.”
“It’s no problem.” It wasn’t like I was going to feel comfortable getting my ass-paddled with my mom still up and puttering around the house, anyway. “I haven’t completely forgotten how to wash a dish.”
“I didn’t think you had.” Mom didn’t sound defensive. She actually seemed like she was proud of me. “That was a great party tonight. I have to say, I’m impressed.”
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