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“Yeah, likefollowers,” I joke, giving him a pointed look.
He laughs again, and it’s nice to see that even if he has gone to the dark side, he’s taken his sense of humor with him. Adam and I—and Ben whenever my parents managed to drag him to torturous political events—had spent our teen years poking fun at the stuffy, over-important people who often attended fancy dinners like these—our parents included.
It helped to have an ally who, as he said earlier, could commiserate.
Mom and Dad have already found their way into the dining room, and Adam joins me at their table.
“Adam, so wonderful to see you,” Mom says, standing to hug him.
He returns it and shakes my dad’s hand before taking a seat. “You as well. And congratulations on your governor campaign. My father’s lucky he doesn’t have to run against you, Mr. Richelieu.”
Dad chuckles, the laughter softening his tired features. “I think I’m just as lucky not to be running against him.”
They fall into an easy conversation about politics and my dad’s campaign before moving on to cover the fact that Adam, too, has decided to dip his toe in the political pool.
And as they chat, my heart grows heavy. Because Adam had been my one ally in this vast room of political chess players and big-money spenders. And now, it seems I’ve lost my brother in arms.
Deep longing for Efrem consumes me at that moment. I never once have felt invisible to him, like he’s so star-struck by my family name or my dad’s career that he doesn’t see who I am.
When I’m with Efrem, I feel like he sees me. He likes me. He wants to know me.
And because of that—along with so many other wonderful things—I love being around him.
The food arrives, and I dig in to the crisp beet salad with goat cheese and oranges. My eyes sweep lazily around the table to consider if anyone there is someone I would talk to. But Adam’s still deeply involved in his conversation with my dad. My mom, on the far side of Dad, seems just as interested in their topic.
The women who sat on the other side of Adam look completely immersed in their gossip—something I’m sure I would find entirely uninteresting—not that I’d have much success talking to them anyway since I’m trapped between my dad and Adam.
Next come our entrées, plates filled with filet mignon, lobster, asparagus, and creamy truffle mashed potatoes. All cooked to perfection. And since I have nothing better to do, I savor each bite.
And think about what I want to say to Efrem. Because I don’t like the way we left things. I want him to know how much he means to me. I just hope we can find a way back to each other.
“Man, I never really realized how much your dad knows about… well, everything really,” Adam says as our entrée plates are removed from the table, and his conversation with my dad finally comes to an end. “I’m gonna have to start coming by to pick his brain.”
Dad turns to talk to Mom, and I give Adam a noncommittal smile.
“Were you hungry?” he teases as he watches my empty plate go by.
Not exceptionally, but I found the food more entertaining than being talked across.The snarky reply is on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow it down.
“I guess so,” I say, a harmless and entirely emotionless response.
As much as I like Adam, we’re not close like we were once upon a time. His focus has changed, and with it, I feel our camaraderie dwindling. He’s still nice and funny, and I would go so far as to consider him a friend. But he’s turned into just another one of those guys who spends time with me only to get close to my dad.
I get it. I’m used to it. But, man, does it make me miss Efrem all the more.
23
EFREM
Stopping dead in my tracks, I backtrack to the newspaper stand I just passed on my morning jog. Sure enough, I find Dani on the front page of a tabloid newspaper. Dressed in a form-fitting blue gown, she looks stunning, the dress’s side cutout showing off her toned waist.
I’m sorely tempted to just walk away. But then my eyes shift to the person she’s beaming up at with an adoring expression on her face.
I don’t recognize the guy. But he looks to be in his early twenties. His dark skin and tight curls make his white teeth stand out as he smiles. The same look of open affection splitting his face.
Snatching the paper from its holder, I pass the stand owner a twenty and tell him to keep the change. Then I make a beeline toward my house.
I refuse to read it until I’m alone, hoping I’ll find out the guy’s some distant cousin. But just in case, I don’t want to risk losing my temper in a public space. When I get home, I force myself to put the paper down on the kitchen table and go take a shower.
