AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I move to stand in front of him, not a hundred percent sure what he needs or how to go about giving it to him. If I actually tried to hug him it would definitely look like we’re fucking because I don’t think I’m capable of touching him in a way that wouldn’t showcase how intimately familiar I am with his body.
“Okay, so I have my hands on your back. Your nose is right underneath my ear, and I smell like wool and snow… I’m breathing on your neck, and I give you a tight squeeze and I say…uh…it’s gonna be okay.”
“That feels really good,” he says.
“Oh, yeah, it’s really good.” And it’s so fucking hard not to touch him right now. “But now I’m letting go of you so we can get back to your place before my shift starts.”
“Thank you, Drew,” he says, and we start walking again.
“Anytime.”
32
OLIVIER
Elodie’s parents are hosting our engagement party in their enormous Upper East Side home, which, like my own parents’ encompasses an entire floor. Unlike my parents’ apartments, however, the Lafayettes have fashioned their space more like a sprawling mansion. I’m guessing 15–20,000 square feet minimum. If any more people show up, I’ll never be able to find Drew in this place, and as I’m on my third cocktail, I’m very much in the mood for my doorman to get here already.
I’ve even got Elodie looking for him because she’s sick of my eyes darting around the room.
My mother is drunk, but she’s a lively drunk, and she gave me an effusive greeting, showering me with praise and attention until her friends started showing up. My father, after a curt and awkward hello, moved on to mingle and probably broker world peace or something.
I have a serious case of hurt feelings, and it’s making my smile brittle and my stomach ache. My bestie, Elodie, is playing the Is Olivier Gay game again by asking me to rate the men in attendance on a scale of one to five. Five being ultra-fuckable and one being, wouldn’t even let him give me a hand job. Her rating system, not mine.
Trip, Becca, and Dom are here, and they made a fifteen-minute show of acting like they wanted to catch up with me but found me somewhat unresponsive and cold. If they think they’re getting wedding invites, they can all go to hell. I express this to Elodie, give her my rationale, and she agrees.
We are past giving a shit who Trip’s father is, and Dom is practically a drug dealer when he’s not doing questionable things with hedge funds. Becca is just a bitch, and so is her mother. My fiancée and I are in complete agreement.
“Oh! Thanks be to God. There he is.”
I turn to try and follow Elodie’s gaze. “Where?”
“Lady in the red dress—two to the left and back.”
I know exactly what she means, and my eyes lock with Drew’s, who seems to have spotted me no problem. He’s got a half-drunk glass of champagne in hand, which makes me wonder how long he’s been here, and who he’s been forced to deal with.
I tighten my hand around Elodie’s. “You promised a tour. Don’t chicken out.”
“You’ll get your tour,” she says, giving me a sly grin just as a photographer snaps a picture. If it’s not blurry, I’d bet money that one will make it online at least, if not the society page. We’ve been nothing if not amazing salespeople tonight, selling the lie of our whirlwind romance and continued infatuation, not to mention the redemption from our prior questionable acts.
It’s the exact distraction my father sold my soul for, so I hope he’s happy now, and I can start coming back to brunch. I’ll even bring Elodie with me, but I’d much rather bring him.
The guy in the charcoal suit that fits him like a second skin. The devastatingly gorgeous model with his hair slicked back except for a lock of it on the right side falling artfully forward in the sexiest possible way, but more importantly—he’s here. He came.
Drew rolled his eyes earlier this afternoon when I told him we’d introduce him as a friend of Elodie’s from her two semesters at NYU, but he doesn’t know these people like we do. If he thought I was bad, wait until he sees how my mother treats doormen. She assumes they were all once homeless people who were found by a fairy godfather and dressed up in little suits to serve.
In her defense, she was raised even worse than I was in terms of elitism. At least I had access to the internet.
Elodie does exactly what I want to do when we walk up to Drew—throws an arm around him and kisses him lightly on the cheek, careful not to leave a lipstick mark.
I reach out and shake his hand, a nervous nod accompanying the ridiculous gesture.
“You look amazing,” Elodie says. “Do you have a brother or a single cousin in town?”
“All sisters. No nearby cousins,” he says.
“And you’re sure you want this guy?” She jerks a thumb my way.
My cheeks flood with heat. “You don’t have to answer that,” I say quickly, my hand still locked in a death grip around his.
