Page 76 of Fake it With Me

I leaned down to kiss the top of her head. “You look so beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

I stood and gave Liza a quick kiss. “And so do you.”

“Thank you.” She smiled. Her lips brushed my ears. “I haven’t seen them, have you?”

I shook my head. “Nope.”

Grant Waverly was nowhere to be seen. I expected him to be at the club, and where he went, Sasha went. Thankfully, neither appeared to be in attendance.

Thank God for small mercies. After Sasha’s bullshit at the science fair, I wasn’t in the mood to deal with Grant’s smug face. Today was supposed to be a celebration, not another battle in the ongoing war with my ex-wife.

“You okay?” I asked, noticing the way she kept fidgeting with her dress.

“I feel like I don’t belong here,” she said quietly, her eyes scanning the crowd of well-dressed yacht club members. “Everyone’s so fancy. And I’m just not.”

“You’re beautiful and smart and better than half these people,” I said. “Trust me.”

“That’s nice, but you don’t have to say that.”

“I’m serious. You want to know a secret about rich people?” I leaned in closer, lowering my voice conspiratorially. “Money or not, they’ve all got more skeletons in their closets than anyone.”

She looked skeptical, so I pointed across the lawn. “See Mr. and Mrs. Carrington over there? The ones who look like they stepped out of a catalog?”

“The couple by the tent?”

“That’s them. He’s sleeping with their maid. Has been for three years. She knows about it and is sleeping with their gardener in retaliation. They stay married because divorce would be too expensive and they like attending events together.”

Liza’s eyes widened. “You’re making that up.”

“I’m absolutely not. Ask anyone.” I pointed to another group. “See the Stuarts? Mom, dad, three kids all dressed like little sailors?”

“Very nautical.”

“Very not his. Everyone knows none of those kids are actually Stuarts. His wife had affairs with three different tennis instructors. But they keep up appearances because image is everything in their circle.”

“That’s awful.”

“It is. And see Miller over there? The guy in the blue blazer?” I gestured toward a silver-haired man holding court near the bar. “He supplies half the people here with cocaine and prescription pills. Made more money dealing pharmaceuticals than he ever did in finance.”

Liza was staring at me now. “Are you serious?”

“Completely. This crowd? They’re not better than you, Liza. If anything, you’re too good to be hanging out with them. You’re genuine. You actually care about people and the world and things that matter. These people care about status and money and who’s sleeping with whom.”

“Well when you put it that way.” She smiled, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. “I guess I can handle a few hours with the morally questionable elite.”

“That’s the spirit.” I kissed her temple.

“Mr. Sullivan!” The new owners waved from near the dock. “Is it time?”

“It’s time!” I called back.

The crowd began to gather at the water’s edge, glasses of champagne in hand, as we all made our way down to where the Seraphina sat in her cradle, ready for launch.

The wife handed me the bottle of champagne. I held it up, addressing the crowd.

“The Seraphina represents everything Sullivan Yachts stands for. Craftsmanship, quality, and a deep respect for the relationship between vessel and water. Jennifer, Robert, she’s all yours. May she bring you as much joy as she brought us to build.”