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The waiter has finished answering Eric’s question and is rattling off the dinner specials. I only catch the occasional word. I’m busy pretending to read the menu while fully focusing on Sutton. If we were alone, in a secluded spot, I would slide my hand up higher.
But we’re not, so I order a beer and try to pay attention to the story Eric is telling about his job. Settle into what I think will be a long meal.
I’m not here for Ellie. I’m here to prove something to Sutton—something I’m worried won’t matter in the end.
But that’s what you do for the people you love. You try anyway.
“You okay?” Sutton asks me as the SUV pulls away from the restaurant two hours later. “I know she was your first—”
“Ellie wasn’t my firstanything,” I reply, some of the frustration that simmered inside me all evening bubbling to the surface. “And even if she had been, I would still be happy for her. Iamhappy for her. Eric seems like a great guy.”
She eyes me, visibly skeptical. “If you say so.”
“I like the name Eric. I would name my kid Eric. Not as a first name, but at least a middle.”
“Are you drunk?” she asks. “I didn’t even see you—”
I ignore her question and keep talking. “You know a name I really hate? Ricky.”
She stops talking, but her lips are still parted. With surprise, not forming words.
“I don’t like the name Kyle either. I don’t hate it, but I would love to never hear it again.”
Sutton stares at me. Her expression is unreadable. I don’t know what she’s thinking, like usual, but she’s clearly thinking something.
Finally, she looks away, out the window. “I called her Tonya on purpose.”
I smirk. “I know.” Then, I lean forward and ask Greg to stop at the London Eye.
Her eyes are on me. “What’s at the London Eye?”
“Uh, the London Eye.”
She rolls her eyes. “I know that. Why are we going there?”
“Do you not want to?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Okay then.”
We pull up outside the observation wheel a few minutes later. I climb out first and hold my hand out to Sutton. In every city we’ve visited, there’s been some sort of touristy outing—some moment when we explored the city, just the two of us. That hasn’t happened yet in London, and this feels like the perfect moment for it.
I buy a couple of tickets, and we climb the short row of steps that lead up into the passing pods. We have one to ourselves—a stroke of luck I wasn’t expecting.
Slowly, we rise higher and higher, another sprawling, shimmering city spread below us. Sutton moves to the edge, gripping the railing so she can see the full view. I move behind her.
“Beautiful,” I say.
“Yeah, it is,” she agrees.
“I’m not talking about the view, June.”
She tilts her head back so she can see me. “I wasn’t sure if you noticed the dress.”
“Not talking about the dress, either. But just to be clear”—I rest a hand on her waist, rubbing tiny circles on the silky fabric with my thumb—“a blind man in space couldn’t miss this dress.”
My hand slips lower until I reach the top of the obscenely high slit. I slip inside, gripping her thigh possessively. I hear her breathing change—quicken. She presses back against me, erasing the miniscule distance between our bodies. I move my hand up and under her dress until I reach the apex of her thighs.
