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She looks around, taking in the sights. “Yes, please. I think I’m nervous. There are so many people.”
I notice her fingers trembling, and she bites her lips lightly. “You’ll get lipstick on your teeth if you keep biting your lips like that.”
“I think the better question is, why are you watching my lips?”
“Because you keep drawing attention to them with the bites.”
Layla stops biting her lips, but her fingers don’t stop clicking against her purse. I take her hand without thinking, and her head snaps to look at me. I squeeze her hand gently, my expression softening.
“You’re going to do fine. Just be yourself. Half of these guys are freaking weirdos, and all you have to do is just be normal—that’s half the battle won.”
She nods quickly and puts a strand of hair behind her small ear. I noticed another errant hair and put it behind her other ear. She holds my hand tight, her fingers interlocking with mine. I study her round face.
I wonder if her performance has started or if she’s holding my hand for comfort. Either way, I can’t deny I enjoy it. The bartender brings her champagne, and I take a glass of coke.
“No alcohol for you?” Layla asks me, her eyes on my coke.
“Uh, no. Coke is fine.”
“It’s fine to drink, though. It’s an outdoor event. I mean, a few drinks won’t hurt, right?” Layla’s voice is soft, and her eyes are even more delicate as she watches me.
Should I have just one drink?
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t our very own Romeo and Juliet.” A voice saves me from deciding to drink.
I hear Suzy’s voice before I see her. She’s one of my board members, and we had a thing a long time ago after her divorce. Her cold, icy blue eyes watch me.
“Suzy,” I say as I pull Layla close to me and put an arm around her waist. “You’re here.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” She stretches a hand to Layla after running her eyes over her. “I’m Suzy, like he said. I guess you’re the new beau.”
“New?” Layla says with her hand in Suzy’s.
“Oh, he didn’t tell you?” Suzy puts her champagne flute to her lips and takes a small sip. “Tristan and I had—”
“That was years ago,” I say to Layla without taking my eyes off Suzy. “It happened once and meant nothing.”
I can feel Layla’s eyes on me, but I look away. For some reason, I feel guilty. I know Suzy’s trying to stir up trouble.
Suzy finishes her champagne. “You know, you can be a real son of a bitch sometimes, Tristan. I have feelings, too.”
“Have your feelings,” I whisper gravely. “I just want no part in them.”
She laughs mirthlessly, then turns to Layla. “I don’t know where he got you from, but be careful of this one. He only cares about himself. He uses you till there’s nothing left, then he leaves you. I mean, his wife—”
“I want you to choose your next words very carefully, Suzannah.” My voice is cold, but my face doesn’t betray my growing anger.
Suzy laughs again and starts to speak. Before she can say anything, the rest of the board members—Smitty, Berkowitz, Flounders, and Wight—appear. They must have drunk a couple of glasses of champagne already because their laughter comes quickly, and they don’t notice the tension between Suzy, Layla, and me.
“Wow, she’s a beauty, Tristan.” Smitty, with his mustache and round, bald head, gawks at Layla.
They introduce themselves to Layla and smiles and handshakes follow. They compliment her and smile at me like they’re proud of my choice. Layla’s arm loops around mine, a gesture with a dual purpose—a public display of unity and a subtle reminder of the contractual nature of our agreement.
“So, what do you do, Layla?” Wight asks. He’s a conservative man who believes any decent man should have a bride. He and Smitty think the same way.
“I work with kids. That’s how I met Tristan, actually. I was his nanny for Ruby.” Layla smiles, her lavender scent in my nose, and her eyes on me.
“Whoa, that’s such a beautiful story. I bet you’re keeping this one in line.” Berkowitz pokes my arm and laughs heartily.
