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“Tell that to Gareth,” she mutters, cheeks turning red.
Everyone cracks up at that, including me.
The girls ask more questions, but I manage to steer them away from my relationship with Lanzo. Instead, I talk about Grandpop, about growing up with him, about the shitty jobs I’ve worked over the years. “The worst was the rodeo,” I say. “I had to wash all the clown stuff after each show. The makeup wasimpossibleto get out.”
“I can’t even begin to imagine what it must’ve been like,” Kat says, laughing. “Except I sort of know, since I’m married to Ford. He’s basically an animal.”
“More like a clown,” Fiona says, which earns a nudge from Kat and a laugh.
The girls talk about their children, about playdates and milestones. It’s all sonormalthat I almost forget about Burian. I let myself get lulled by the illusion that I really am Lanzo’s girlfriend and these really might be my friends one day.
Except I know I’ll probably never see any of these girls after tonight. And that’s fine. I have to keep reminding myself why I’m here.
The guys come back after a while. Dinner’s delicious—multiple courses served by white-gloved staff that must cost a fortune. Nobody bats an eye. I’m able to sink into the background as the group catches up. Lanzo’s not the most talkative person at the table—that would be Ford—but he does tell a few funny stories from his days traveling around Europe. None of them involve selling heroin, thankfully.
At the end of the night, the group moves together to the exit. Lanzo casually puts his arm around me, and although I want to punch him in the kidney, I resist the urge. It wouldn’t be a good look to start smacking my alleged boyfriend around in public. Even if he deserves it.
“It was great meeting you.” Kat gives me a hug, followed by Fiona, Camille, and Brice. “Seriously, we’re all really happy Lanzo found someone.”
“I hope we can hang out again soon,” I say, forcing myself to smile, since I know that isn’t going to happen.
“If you ever need anything—” Brice starts but stops herself when Fiona nudges her. “Right, I just mean, uh, nice meeting you.”
The wives are swept away by their husbands, leaving me alone with Lanzo as we wait for his truck. That last comment by Brice sticks with me. I’m not sure what she was trying to suggest—like I’m in danger being with Lanzo or something.
“They’re nice,” I say once we’re driving back to the apartment.
“They are,” he agrees, but he’s staring straight ahead, not smiling.
“You had a good time with the guys. I could tell.”
“Yeah.” He tilts his head. Doesn’t elaborate.
I narrow my eyes. “What’s the matter? You’re usually talking shit by now.”
“Nothing.”
“One-word answers. Great, we’re already at that point in our fake relationship.”
That gets a slight smile. “I guess things are getting acrimonious after a day of marriage.”
“We’re married now?” I frown at my hands. “And here I am without a ring. I’ll note that all those women had some serious rocks on their fingers.”
His smile fades away. “That’s a good point. Is that something you want?”
I lean against the door. His face is caught between light and shadow as we speed back into town. “I have no idea what I want and it doesn’t matter. We’re not really together, right?”
“Right.” His mouth shuts again.
I sigh, getting frustrated. Something is clearly wrong, but Lanzo’s being as difficult as possible about it. I don’t even know why I care—it’s not like we’re really dating or anything like that. His feelings are his own, and if being around his friends unlocked something complicated for him, that’s his business.
But I can’t help myself.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” I demand after more painful silence. “Or I’m going to keep pestering you with questions.”
“That’s your specialty, isn’t it?”
“You eventually crack if I ask enough.”
