“What did you tell him?” Clive asks.
“What do you think I said? I’m here talking to you while he’s over there chatting up Lily McPherson, so obviously I said no.”
Clive brings his tumbler to his mouth and drains the Scotch in a single gulp.
“Still,” Clive murmurs, shaking his head. “He asked you to marry him.”
“Yes,” I repeat.
Because, oh, God. Let’s please talk about this some more. Because this isn’t awkward and horrible at all.
Clive waves down a waiter and orders another drink, snagging a full wineglass from the tray and pressing it into my hand before waving the guy off.
“And you think . . .” Clive shakes his head, looking like he can’t believe what he’s about to say. “You think Max asked you to marry him because he was being nice?”
“Yes.”
“Nice?”
“Yes.”
“You think Max was trying to be nice?”
“Stop saying nice like that. Max is nice. He is a nice person.”
“No. He’s not a nice person. He’s an asshole.Everyonethinks he’s an asshole.”
“Well, everyone is wrong, okay? Just because he isn’t polished and doesn’t say the right thing every time he opens his mouth does not mean he’s not a good person.”
“I—”
“He found out I wasn’t going to get kids, okay? That’s the only reason he asked me to marry him. There was a sibling pair I thought I might get to foster-adopt, and some judge gave them to a couple instead. And Max felt sorry for me. That’s it. That’s the only reason he would want to marry someone like me. Out of pity. And I know that. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
“Jesus. No, of course I don’t want to hear that. Why would you think that?”
I just shake my head. “I don’t know, Clive. I don’t know anything anymore.”
The waiter comes back with Clive’s drink. He downs it in one gulp.
From across the room, he watches Max and Lily interacting. He looks as miserable as I feel.
“Holly, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I got you mixed up in this at all.”
He gives me puppy-dog eyes full of pity and regret.
What the hell am I supposed to say to that?
Am I supposed to lie to make him feel better? Tell him that it’s okay? That no harm was done? That I don’t feel like my heart is breaking?
I say nothing, and after a few minutes, he says, “Do you really think Lily McPherson came all the way down here just to meet Max because of some picture she saw in his Instagram feed?”
“I think she’s the heiress to a multibillion-dollar fortune with a private jet at her disposal. And she’s here. So maybe.”
“What do you think he’s going to do?”
“About what?”
“About Lily McPherson.”
