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She doesn’t pull away, but she won’t meet my gaze either. This is the closest we’ve been since I carried her upstairs after discovering her on the couch. Scarlett isn’t the only one acting unaffected. I want to haul her lips to mine. I want her to be naked and be allowed to look. I want to talk with her without having to extract any syllable that isn’t cutting.
Instead, I just twirl her around the dancefloor. Silence is usually neutral. Between us, it shimmers. It has shape and substance. The quiet is weighted by all the things we aren’t saying and all the emotions we aren’t expressing.
The song ends and transitions into a new one. After a few minutes, she swallows and looks right at me. “I have an early day tomorrow.”
After our conversation in the car earlier, I know suggesting she take Saturday off is a bad idea. “So do I.” I don’t.
“I want to take the car back, Crew.”
“Fine.” I stop dancing. “Let’s go.”
Surprise flickers across her face. “You’re coming home tonight?”
“Did I tell you otherwise?”
Pink heats her cheeks. “I assumed you made plans.”
“You know what they say about people who make assumptions.”
“No, I don’t,” she challenges. “What do they say?”
“You want me to call you an ass?”
“I’ve been called worse,” she replies, then starts walking toward the exit.
I catch up with her at the coat check. “I’m getting sick of this, Scarlett. Does every conversation we have need to turn combative? You want to leave? Let’s leave. I’m not fighting you.”
“You’re making a scene.”
I grab her arm to stall her in place. “You’re mad I’m coming home? I didn’t think you’d care either way.”
“Idon’t.”
“Then why are you being so difficult?” I hiss.
“Difficult?” she echoes. “I’m not the one who—”
“Are you two in line for the valet?”Fuck. I know that voice. I turn to see Hannah aiming a sweet smile my way. There’s no authenticity in the expression. “Oh. Crew.” She lets out a small, fake laugh. “I didn’t realize that was you.”
I raise one eyebrow, silently calling her out on that bullshit. “We’re not in line for the valet. Our driver is on his way.”
“Oh. All right, then.”
Still, she doesn’t move. I press my lips together, annoyed. “Hannah, this is my wife, Scarlett. Scarlett, this is Hannah Garner.” This is the first time I’ve ever introduced Scarlett as my wife. It’s bizarre to say, and equally strange to realize I like the way it sounds.
“We’ve met before,” Hannah says. “Lovely to see you again, Scarlett.”
Scarlett stares at her. “Where?”
“Excuse me?”
“You said we’ve met before. Where?”
Hannah looks flustered, but recovers quickly. “Oh. Um, it must have been at some event here? Crew loves visiting LA, but it doesn’t seem like your sort of place.”
“New York isn’t for everyone, either,” Scarlett replies.
“I prefer to visit in the summer. I hate the cold.”
