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“It seemed like you could use it.”
He tipped his bourbon in my direction.
“I’d offer this to you, but I’m not waiting in that drink line again.”
“Actually, I’m not drinking tonight anyway.”
Louis looked at me, considering. “I’ve never known you to turn down a drink. Five in the morning, five at night. Anything you want to tell me?”
I shook my head, not answering. Louis was friends with Danny, and it occurred to me that I might not be the only one with interesting information I was withholding. How could I ask Louis, though? Have you seen my estranged husband and how does he feel about his new girlfriend? How do you think he’s going to feel about this baby?
Louis nodded, deciding not to press. “How you holding up, kid?”
I wanted to scream: You abandoned me, how do you think I’m doing? But I smiled. “Pretty good. You?”
He sipped the bourbon. “About to be a lot better. Despite the hundred people here I have to say hello to.”
I motioned toward the deck, which was steps from the beach, the Atlantic Ocean. “We could sneak outside, and you could have your drink in peace.”
Louis smiled, a little sadly. “Afraid I can’t do that.”
I nodded, knowing that would be his answer. Louis had forgiven me as much as he was going to forgive me. That didn’t mean he wanted anything to do with me.
“Be well, though,” he said.
“Wait!” I said. “I just need to tell you something . . .”
He shook his head. “Sunny, I was trying to lend you a hand, but I really don’t want to do this.”
“I know, but this is not about us. I mean, it’s not about me trying to get you to forgive me or anything.”
He narrowed his eyes. “I think in order for that to even be on the table, there would have to be an I’m sorry. Haven’t heard that yet.”
“There’s something you need to know about Amber.”
“I’m not interested,” he said.
“Well, I am!”
We turned to see Julie, a mostly empty champagne glass in hand, a pantsuit highlighting her figure.
“Julie,” Louis said.
She kissed Louis on each cheek. “Hello, sir! Congratulations.”
Then she smiled at me.
“This is a surprise! Well, not really, Violet texted me the second she saw you walk in.” She took a sip of her drink. “What’s the Amber gossip?”
“There is no gossip,” Louis said.
I shook my head, staying quiet.
Julie looked back and forth between us, intrigued. “Let her tell you, Louis. Let her tell us.”
Louis paused, and I knew this was the moment. I leaned in, ready to jump into my story. My initial plan had been to tell Louis what Amber had done—to turn him against her—to remind him that I wasn’t the enemy; to tell him that I was working for Chef Z, and I was trying to rectify it, trying to become what I had only before pretended to be.
Except, with Louis waiting to listen, it seemed wrong to talk about Chef Z, wrong to say I was fixing anything, even wrong to talk about Amber. It was just a different form of pretend.
