Page 99 of Turning Back

“I’m ready,” I say, smiling at him. “You look handsome.”

“You look stunning,” he replies, leaning into the back of my neck to give me a kiss.

“Go,” Quin says. “Have a good time. We’ll be here when you get home.”

Bric offers me his arm and we walk into the waiting elevator together. Quin is holding up Adley’s hand to wave at us, both of them smiling.

He deserves this time alone with her. Bric has had a lot more time with her than Quin. So it’s good for them both. But a part of me wants to stay behind. Share this night with Quin and Adley as they get to know each other, and not leave them behind.

Bric gives me the rundown on the party as we drive over to the mansion. I’ve been here before. Several times. All of them with Bric. In fact, I’m pretty sure I was at this same party the first two years we were together. That was something we did a lot. Go out. Quin and I never went out like this before. We stayed home or went fun places together, just the two of us. Bric was always the party guy.

The party is at a neoclassical mansion built in 1902. I remember this from the first time I was here. The third governor of Colorado built this house after he left office. Tonight, it’s lit up and festive when we arrive. More than a hundred people are dressed up in black and white. There is a dinner later, but for now we mingle. I see dozens of people I know. They all come up to me, elated that Bric and I are back together.

I wonder how many of them are Club members? I wonder how many of them know what we do in private?

All the women stare, but I can’t tell if they are staring at me or just appreciating the fact that Elias Bricman is hot. One woman in our small-talk party is scowling just a few feet away, so she is obviously looking at me. It doesn’t bother me. I’m not embarrassed by our relationship. So we’re a thriple. Who cares? I privately think they are all jealous. That woman, for sure. I would be, if I were her. Her husband is handsome, but not attentive. He’s busy chatting with the other men about golf as she stands there demurely. He’s ignoring her.

Bric is holding my hand, talking to me, even though I’m not even participating in the conversation. He brings me in. Includes me on purpose. Looks at me, not them.

Yes, she’s definitely jealous. I lean into Bric and he looks down at me, then brings my hand to his lips and kisses it.

I wonder what these people would think if three of us showed up, instead of two?

I smile, but don’t laugh, even though I want to.

Quin would not ignore me either. Both of my hands would be held at the same time. Both mouths would be kissing my knuckles. We’d take turns dancing. I’d sit between them as we ate dinner. They’d bring me festive, bubbly drinks. And delicious canapés. I’d never have a moment to myself.

It would be wonderful, I decide.

“How have you been, Rochelle?” the scowling woman asks. She leaves her husband’s side and comes over to stand next to me. “I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“I know. I’ve been gone,” I say. “I spent the last year at a resort, just being lazy and, you know… having a baby.”

“You have a baby?” she asks, surprised and smiling. “Well, that’s interesting. The last time I talked to your father, he didn’t mention it.”

My world stops. Simply ceases. Jesus Christ. I don’t show it, but holy fuck, I need to take a sip of my champagne to gather myself. Who is this woman?

“No,” I say. Once I swallow the warm fizzing liquid I’m collected again. “I don’t speak to him.”

“I did know that, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up. Do you have pictures?” she asks. “Of the baby? I bet Elias is so proud.”

“Have we met?” I ask. “I’ve been introduced to so many of Elias’ friends over the years, but I don’t recognize you.”

She cocks her head at me, like she’s wondering if I’m serious. “We have met before. But it wasn’t here in Denver. Justin and I just relocated. I was so happy to see you here at the party. Friendly face and all.”

Are we friendly? I find that very unlikely.

“You really don’t remember me,” she says. Not as a question, just a statement of fact.

“No,” I say. “I’m sorry. You do look familiar, but I can’t place you. Can you refresh my memory?”

“Well, I was…” she looks around, then at her husband. She leans in to me, like she’s sharing a secret. “Your father’s mistress,” she whispers. “I’m almost relieved you don’t recognize me, to be honest. It’s good to know that one’s reputation does not precede her.”

“Ohhhhh,” I say, nodding my head. Snap. Out of the fantasy life I’ve been living for the past four years and right back to the real world.

“I’m Justin’s mistress now. And you’re with Elias?”

“And Quin Foster,” I say. I can’t let that opportunity pass.