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“Sangiovese,” I blurted, the first thing that came to mind. “Whatever the best is.”
Trace rolled his eyes as the server hustled away.
“Try not to be so blatantly absorbed in Cora next time,” Damian muttered.
“I’m not,” I lied. “I was just thinking about how much I’d like to celebrate with Allan, you know?” I rested my elbow on the table, angling my body toward the Margulis-Rossberg clan. “I’m thinking I might send them a round of shots. That way, we can all toast to our new future.”
Trace leveled me with a stern look. “How about no?”
“Don’t bother,” Damian said, waving him off. “He’s already made up his mind.”
“Damn straight I have.” I interlocked my fingers as I sent my brothers a devilish grin. “I just think that forcing Allan to sell to us deserves a toast. We know he tried his best to avoid this outcome, and he failed. We need to commemorate this momentous occasion.”
When the server returned with a bottle of Sangiovese and three wine glasses, I lifted my index finger while my eyes stayed on Allan’s table. Eli and Allan had their heads together, deep in conversation about something. I wondered whytheyhadn’t gotten married instead. Cora and her mother weren’t speaking, a similar melancholy pulled tight around them as they focused on their meals.
“I’d like to send a round of shots for this table and for that table over there.” I smiled up at our server. “The Margulis-Rossberg party. The table with the golden rope, so we know how special and untouchable they are.”
The server’s eyes darted in the direction of Allan’s table, and he nodded. “Absolutely. Any drink in particular you’d like to send?”
“We’re celebrating the purchase of a very expensive building from Mr. Golden Ropes. What would you recommend?”
The server rattled off some options. I nodded along, picked the most exotic sounding whiskey, and leaned back in my seat. Mission accomplished.
Trace looked like he was fighting back a smile. “Mr. Golden Ropes?”
I laughed, and soon Damian joined in. But when I caught another glimpse of Cora, this time with Eli whispering into her ear as if they were moments away from heading back to the bedroom, my chest cinched tight.
I was not okay with this situation. Whatever she’d told Trace must have been a lie. And though she’d ponied up three million for the building, I couldn’t believe for a second what she’d told me about not being happy since breaking up with me. She had an ulterior motive somewhere. I couldn’t trust her. Even though I could feel the unhappiness radiating off of her with Eli at her side—practically like an oily film coating her—I couldn’t allow myself to believe it. Because believing that we still had that connection would only lead to my downfall.
As long as she was at Eli’s side, I couldn’t afford to listen to that whisper inside me.
The server returned with our shots, setting them on the table one by one before heading to Cora’s table with theirs. I watched as our server delivered them to the now bewildered-looking Allan and Eli. Cora’s mother barely registered any expression as she received hers. But Cora’s gaze found mine immediately, the start of a smirk on her lips.
“To the new building!” I called out loud enough for my voice to reach them over the din of the restaurant. I lifted my shot glass. My brothers followed suit while I amped up my smile. Allan glowered. I had not received such potent stink eye from anyone in my life. God bless that man’s capacity for disdain. I downed my shot in a gulp; Damian and Trace followed suit.
“Do you think they’ll drink them?” Trace set his empty shot glass in the center of our table.
“I couldn’t fucking care less,” I muttered, relishing the hot sting of the whiskey down my throat. “We should get some snacks, yeah? Maybe a steak?”
“Steak tartare,” Damian said, pointing at something on the menu. “And more shots. That shit was good.”
“Now, now, Damian. Don’t go hog wild celebrating,” I chided him jokingly.
“It’s a Saturday in SoHo. I do what I want.” He twisted, flagging down the server. We ordered a sumptuous dinner feast and another round of shots, and I relaxed into my chair sipping on Sangiovese. Life was pretty damn good, as long as I could keep my mind off Cora.
That had been and would continue to be one of the sad truths of my life. I just wondered how many more years it might take for me to accept it.
My phone vibrated with an incoming text.
CORA: Meet me by the bathrooms?
I frowned down at my phone and tapped out my response.
AXEL: No.
CORA: I thought we were celebrating the purchase.
AXEL: Celebration is over.
