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“There’s just one person right now, and they already know about the engagement.”
This catches my new fiancée off guard. She blinks rapidly and then leans in, elbows crossed demurely on the table to hide the majority of her fantastic cleavage. “One person?”
“Yes.”
“That’s…odd.”
I try not to scowl. I’m supposed to look happy right now. “How’s it odd?”
“I’ve never known you to have a girlfriend. At least—not in recent memory.”
“It’s been awhile.” Though, I’m not sure three months of fucking the same person even qualifies as having a girlfriend.
“Is she poor?”
The question hits me wrong. I don’t want to mince words. Elodie and I are in this together now, and I’m not very good at lying anyway. “It’s Drew.”
Her jaw drops, but she quickly snaps it shut again. “The doorman?” she hisses.
I nod once, a bland smile pasted on my face for onlookers.
“You’re gay?” She asks through her own tight smile and clenched teeth.
“I—no—maybe—look, all I know is Drew did this.” I make a vague gesture at my neck. “And I liked it.”
Her smile stays frozen in place. “What the fuck are you thinking, Olivier?”
“If you’re worried about him talking, he won’t?—”
“You don’t know that,” she’s quick to say.
She’s right. I don’t. Maybe he could use a few grand in return for some salacious gossip, but it’s not like he has proof—that I know of.
I take a long sip of champagne, draining the glass, and reaching for the bottle to refill it. It’s a 2018, which has always been one of my favorites, but they could bring out a Freixenet next, and I’d drink the shit out of it.
“Look, having gay sex with the doorman is all the upheaval I can handle right now. Don’t make me question his intentions.”
Elodie bursts into peals of laughter, and my face literally cracks in an attempt to expand my smile like we’re having a grand time over here in hell. “Your face, Ollie. Is this why you were so stressed about what we were wearing the other night? You were trying to impress your new boyfriend? Oh my God, I didn’t think there’d ever be anything I found remotely charming about you, but you win. I’m charmed! How glad are you we took off the beanie?”
“Can we go?” I hiss. She’s barely even bothering to keep her voice down.
“I haven’t heard back from my dad yet.”
“For a walk then. I don’t want to talk about this in front of people.”
She claps a hand down on mine, urgency in the sudden grasp. “But we’re still gonna talk about it, right?”
I have to talk about it. Now that I’ve broken the seal on the truth, there’s no way I can keep it in a second longer.
“Let’s go to The Lounge,” she suggests. “It’s loud, and we can sit close in a booth, look cute, and no one will hear anything.”
I could almost kiss her. “Thank you.”
I drop cash for the bill on the table and stand, escorting Elodie to the door to the tune of claps and congrats. We smile and wave. Elodie flashes her five-carat ring. Just two high society heirs who found love, nothing to see here.
The Downside Lounge is a basement bar known for dark corners, designer drug deals, and under the table hand jobs. It’s one of the best-kept secrets on the Upper East Side. It’s not necessarily bad to be seen here, it’s more of a status thing. They don’t let just anyone in. They also have a signature frozen punch that’s had me making many a stupid decision over the last few years.
Since it’s a Monday night, it’s not crowded, but the lights are low, and the music is loud. Trip’s cousin Charlotte is making out with a dude I went to prep school with whose hairline is already receding.
