I should go jump off the balcony for crossing that line. I swore to myself—sworethat I wasn’t going to be like my father—sworeit on every anniversary,sworeit every time I left my mother looking so forlorn.
I’m a bad son. Yes, it’s true. But it’s nice to have Dani pet my hair. Feed me food.
“You didn’t have any of this at the party, did you?” She slips a little bite of lobster in my mouth. “One for you, one for me. Hmm,” she hums happily. “This is good tea. I’m going to steal it from you.”
“Take it. All of what’s mine is yours,” I remind her sleepily and press a kiss to her thigh, because I can—because there’s no worry that it’s going to lead to something it shouldn’t—because I’ve already blown through that safety gate, just shot the lock off with a bazooka.
It’s snowing again. The large, slushy flakes patter against the oversized windows that look out over Central Park. The dog is snoring at the foot of the bed. Dani’s phone pings softly as she messages someone.
I feel myself start to relax.
Dani pulls a soft blanket over us both and rests her arm on my head, muttering at her phone. The burbling noise of the keys as she types merges with the patter of the snow.
For a traitorous minute, I start to wonder if I could actually be happy. If this could be real.
37
DANI
“You have to write my thank-you letters. Here’s the list my mom made,” Colette orders. “You need to check with your mom, though, before sending anything off.” She dumps a notebook on my desk.
“She got so many nice presents, Dani,” Maya reminds me. “Don’t leave it too long.”
“Though when you get married, you probably won’t need a couples shower. Graham will just buy you anything you want.” Greta titters.
“That’s a little far in the future. I’m just working on your bachelorette party, Colette.” I rub the back of my neck.
“I’m counting on you,” Colette lectures, “not to fuck it up. This is important. It’s my last time being a single woman. It needs to be special.”
“Absolutely. I want you to have an amazing time,” I assure her.
“Everyone I’ve talked to has said that they’re worried you can’t pull it off, but I told them that you can, so don’t let me down. I mean, Maya was saying that you were going to take us allto Cabo, and I was like, no way. Dani’s not doing that. She knows me better than that.”
“Oh, no. Uh, of course not.” I feel sick. “I’d never do Cabo. I know you better than that, Colette.”
“Hmm.” She knows that I already booked excursions, a hotel, and restaurants for Cabo. I’m not going to admit that, though. “And where is the data for the Turner account? Just because you’re dating a billionaire doesn’t mean you can slack off,” Colette snaps at me.
“I mean”—Maya snickers—“her boyfriend is a major client, so, like, she could slack off because she could just tell him to take his business elsewhere.”
Colette huffs off.
“What doesshe mean we can’t go to Cabo?!” I shriek at Piper in the far-away upstairs bathroom.
“She’s just doing it to fuck with you. Don’t you have text messages from her about Cabo? Bring receipts. Treat her like a difficult client.”
“But she’s my friend,” I wail.
“Some friend.”
“Her bachelorette party has to be perfect. My mom will never let me live it down if it’s not.” I try to keep my hands off my face. I’m already breaking out. “I was looking at other options last minute. Maybe we could go to St. Lucia? There are openings at a fancy hotel I found. But I don’t think it has the nightlife Colette wants.”
“There’s always Vegas.”
“Colette will kill me if I take her to Vegas. Ugh. I just don’t think St. Lucia is a good idea, but I already booked everything.She told me last year that it had to be Cabo—she was very insistent. Here.” I finally find the text message. “See?” I show Piper. “See? Cabo.”
“You don’t have to plan her bachelorette. You could just opt out since she wants to act like a five-year-old.”
“We agreed when we were thirteen that we would plan each other’s bachelorettes.” I slump against the counter.
