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“You…” I blink up at him. “What?”
King looks down at me. “You should’ve told me.”
Anger boils up inside of me. “You should’ve asked. Or not jumped to conclusions like a giant…dumbass.”
He clicks his tongue. “Now, now, Honey. We’re newlyweds, remember? Try to look happy.”
“How did you even…? Val.” I answer my own question, and then my jaw clenches on a suspicion. “Is this what that whole,” I lower my voice, “not gonna fuck you until you askthing is about?”
When his nostrils flare, I know I nailed it.
This prick.
“King!” Someone hails him but we keep staring at each other.
“What’s the charity for?” I ask.
“No clue. Why?”
I bat my eyes up at him, “Because I’m going to go write your name on every auction item I can find.”
The side of his mouth pulls up. “Save me a dance.”
“Fat chance.” Then, before anyone reaches us, and I have to stand through being introduced asKing’s new wife,I turn and walk away. Carefully picking my way through the crowd.
I went to enough events like this with my parents growing up, so I know how they go. The obligatory speeches that we’ve apparently missed. The tables of food. The live band in the corner and a dance floor that will only be used for mingling and not dancing. And then of course, the arrayment of auction items along one wall.
I spot Aspen heading toward the entrance, toward King, so I adjust my trajectory and head in the opposite direction, toward the buffet tables first.
Because you never fucked Leland.
I don’t even know why I’m so annoyed. I’m not mad at Val for telling him. But like, what does it really have to do with anything? We’ve already had sex, King and I, so why would this make any difference?
I guess I’d be even more pissed if hehadn’thad sex with me until he found out. Like as though having some other dick in me made me bad.
I accept a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and decide there’s no point in trying to figure out the reasons of a madman.
Stopping in the back of the line for food, I see the tactical error in grabbing this glass of champagne.I’m going to need two hands.
Before it’s my turn, I down the bubbly and hand the empty glass off to another passing waiter, waving off his offer of an immediate refill.
With two free hands, I load up one of the little plates and bite down on a smile as I think of one of my favorite movie lines:I’m only here for the food.
Plate in hand, I make my way to one of the many tall round cocktail tables and set up shop, refusing to look formy King.
I scoff as I dunk a cold shrimp into the dab of cocktail sauce on my plate.
My King or Husband,blah blah blah. What an idiot.
I have a shrimp half-in, half-out of my mouth when someone says my name.
My eyes snap up and I find a pretty brunette with bangs standing across the little table from me. I hadn’t noticed her approach, and now I have to decide if I pull the shrimp out of my mouth, or bite it off at the tail, like I was planning. Which would mean she’d have to wait for me to chew and swallow before I greet her.
So, instead of doing either of those things, I just stand in indecision, with a sea creature protruding from my lips.
“Sorry!” she holds her hands up. “My timing is terrible.” I watch her cheeks turn red. “But my husband pointed you out and I thought I’d come say hi.”
Breaking out of my stupor, I finally bite through and drop the shrimp tail onto my plate.
