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“Excuse me, ladies.” His voice makes me stiffen. It gives me goosebumps, despite the fact temperatures today are hovering in the eighties. “Would you mind terribly if I steal my blushing bride away for a moment?” Crew wraps an arm around my waist, acting the part of the doting husband so convincingly evenIbelieve it for a second. I’m sure he can feel how tense I am.
The ladies who were previously interrogating me all coo variations ofhow sweetandnewlywed bliss. A couple of them are close to my mother’s age. And yet they’re all eyeing Crew with the same appreciative gaze he seems to coax out of every woman who sees him. I add his annoying attractiveness to the long list of things I’m currently bothered by.
As soon as we’re out of sight from the nosy women, his arm drops. I don’t thank him for pulling me away—don’t sayanythingto him. It’s strange and uncomfortable having him here. Having to act like a happy couple when we’re the furthest thing from one.
We’ve barely exchanged twenty words since the car ride home from the Rutherford gala. I’m pissed—at him, at myself. He’s acting like the cold, aloof asshole I expected to find myself married to.
And it bothers me.
I miss the glimpses I got of the guy I don’t think many people see. I hate how he’s acting like I promised fidelity—like me and other men is more than just a blow to his male pride. I want to tell him it’s a ridiculous double standard, that no one here would be surprised to hear he’s cheated on me but would be scandalized if I repeated what I told him in the limo.
What Iliedto him about in the limo.
And that’s the main reason I haven’t made any attempt to repair the damage that ride home inflicted: the indifferent expression Crew wore. I thought my lies would at least dent his ego. I lied, and I don’t want to lie again. I was hurt and mad, so I made up a “Hannah” of my own. I was hoping for distance. Just not this heavy, oppressive sort where it feels like we both might care we’re barely speaking.
“Did you need something?” I take a sip from my glass, trying to ignore the spot on my back that still tingles where he touched me just a minute ago.
He studies my movements. “You’re drinking?”
I raise both eyebrows, then deliberately look at the glass I’m holding. “You expect me to get through this sober?”
“Not at all. The more wasted you get, the fewer people will ask me if you’re pregnant. We both know what the chances ofthatare. With my kid, at least.”
I seethe as Andrew Spencer rounds the corner and nears where we’re standing, erasing any opportunity to retort. “Was that all, darling?”
“For now, sweetheart.” Crew has spotted Andrew as well. His tone has turned cordial. “I’m sure I’ll find another excuse to steal you away later.”
“Can’t wait,” I chirp.
“Crew! I thought that was you!” Andrew stops directly in front of us, blocking my immediate escape route. “How have you been?”
“Fine,” Crew replies smoothly. “You? How’s Olivia?”
“Good, good.” Andrew’s voice and expression are jovial as he looks at me. “Scarlett. Wonderful to see you.”
I smile, but he’s already turned back to Crew. I finish off my champagne while they talk.
“Haven’t seen you since the wedding,” Andrew says, frowning. “How is everything at the company?”
“The usual.”
“Must be more hectic than usual. You haven’t been out in a month. Everyone has been asking about you.”
Crew’s eyes flick to me and away, so fast I almost miss it. I find fresh interest in the conversation.
“Yes. I’ve been busy.”
I didn’t realize Crew and Andrew were this friendly. Honestly, I’ve never paid close attention to anyone he socializes with at the events we’ve overlapped attending over the years. I talk to everyone out of obligation, even those close to me in age. The girls I attended boarding school with always gossip and the guys will slip in a suggestive comment or two between bragging about their investments.
“Busy. Right.” Andrew’s gaze is back on me. He’s smirking, leaving no question as to how he took Crew’s response.
“I should have known seeing Crew is why you wanted to come.” Olivia Spencer saunters over to where the three of us are standing.
I had every intention of making a hasty excuse and leaving Crew and Andrew to talk about whatever they want. But something—possibly the way Olivia is looking at Crew—keeps me in place.
At least Olivia is being somewhat subtle in her appraisal, unlike Hannah Garner. But I can still see the interest in the way her eyes widen and her lips turn up coyly. Before we got married, I made a deliberate effort not to pay attention to gossip about Crew when other women were involved. I’m starting to recognize that might have been a mistake. These women think they know everything about me, while I have no idea what history they share with Crew.
“You’ve been complaining Crew hasn’t been coming out,” Olivia adds, when none of us say anything. I don’t miss the look she gives me as she does. It’s obvious she blames me for the fact Crew hasn’t been frequenting New York nightclubs, and I’m tempted to tell her I’ve actually done everything I could to ensure he spends as little time around me as possible.
