Page 117 of The Contract Marriage

“Come on. Just aim and smack the ball. The key is to hit one of them.” He points to the young women. Red and purple balloons that look like open mouths and red orchids are tied to their waists or heads. “We’re keeping score.”

To my left is a scoreboard. Rolling my eyes, I smack the ball as hard as I can, then spin around and walk deeper into the party. Behind me, more laughter and groans come.

This is even more insane than I’ve been bracing for. The party is full of A-list celebs, Hollywood studio executives and investors, whoever Ted deems worthy of being part of his inner circle. Plus a lot of wannabes who want him to cast them and turn them into stars. I see Ryder Reed holding court with a gaggle of women. Catherine Fairchild, Barron Sterling’s art buyer, is talking with someone who looks like he stepped out of the sixties.

“I told him the day I cast him is the day I join a monastery!” Ted’s loud voice cuts through the chaos of chatter. People go ooooh and aaaaah and laugh. But underneath their reaction is thick relief that they aren’t the “him” Ted’s talking about.

I squeeze through, and Ted turns his dark head. “Ophelia?” He comes over, his thick, muscled arms spread wide. “Look at you! All tall and grown up now!”

I smile, ignoring the fact that he’s always misremembered my name. “Hi, Ted. Happy birthday.” I hug him and air-kiss his cheeks.

“Aw, you’re so sweet.” His eyes crinkle. “Why couldn’t I have a daughter like you? Huh? I only have a bunch of boring sons.”

“You have some very accomplished daughters-in-law,” I remind him, since all his sons are now married and settled.

“And grandkids!” He leans in. “A couple of ’em sing better than Josh Singer’s grandkids, too.” Ted’s eyes glint and he gives me a conspiratorial wink.

“I’m sure they do.” I take a moment to look around. Maybe I could be an actress. “Is Josh Singer here so you can grind him under your heel?”

“Ah, Joey invited him, but he always turns me down. Says he’s too busy, that asshole.” He squints, probably imagining kicking the other man’s ass. “I went to his parties.”

I pat his shoulder. “Probably didn’t want to come and get depressed. I mean, who could top a party like this? He’d never be able to host one if he were to see this in person.”

Ted nods. “You’re right. I should’ve thought of his insecurities. Here, have some mimosa. It’s the good stuff.”

I start to decline then give up and just hold the glass. The man can barely remember his own sons’ names. He won’t remember or care that I’m pregnant. “By the way, have you seen Liam?”

“Who?”

“Liam Kingswood. The lab diamond mogul?”

“Oh…” His eyes light up, and he starts to speak faster with excitement. “No. Why? Do you want me to introduce him? I’m sure I can hook you guys up. A favor to your mother, but”—he leans in—“honestly, you can do better. There’s this guy I spotted. I’m gonna turn him into a star with my next movie. Lot of raw talent, great cheekbones, looks even better on camera, which works for you since you can then post photos on your Instagram or whatever. His dick’s adequate from what I’ve heard, although nothing like mine—”

“Uh, yeah, no, it’s okay. Let me just change into my bathing suit so I can go join the people over there.” He can go on forever, just to listen to himself talk. And I really don’t need a comparative analysis of anyone’s dicks.

“Come to Daddy Teddy if you need anything. Joey isn’t bad, but you have the special direct line access to me.” He winks, then blows a kiss like a prince at a parade.

I finally escape and exhale as I walk along the pool. My God, this is hard. Where’s Liam? Maybe he didn’t come. This doesn’t seem like his kind of scene. And even if he did come, how am I going to find him in this massive crowd?

Suddenly, the hair on the back of my neck bristles. I lift my head and look around.

There!

Across the pool stands Liam in his bathing trunks. My heart thumps wildly, and then I spot—

A skimpily covered redhead, who is talking animatedly to him, her hand on his shoulder. Not sure if he’s paying attention to her. It’s impossible to see his eyes through the sunglasses, but my gut burns.

Hands off, you bitch! He’s mine.

I glare at the redhead, then look back at him again. He stiffens for a second—he’s definitely noticed me. For a second, hope flares, leaving me shaky.

His head turns slowly away. Not a hint of a smile crosses his expression.

My whole body chills, as though I’ve just plunged into an icy lake. It’s like I’ve been relegated to an irrelevant extra in his life, not his spouse.

I look down at the Rubedo. Do I not matter anymore? He never asked for it back. Maybe he doesn’t want it because it lost its significance the moment he decided to walk out on me.

I feel ridiculous. People shriek. Wine fountains gurgle around me. A new tune throbs in the air until my head pounds to the beat. Ted gestures wildly, surrounded by scantily clad women.