Lay claim to my mouth, because it’s yours.
Her words spun like a drug in my blood.
I don’t know what the fuck I’ll do if she keeps denying me access.
“Grayson?” My mother tapped my shoulder. “Did you hear me?”
“Yeah. Lynette stole your look.”
She laughed. “I wouldn’t say that. I wouldn’t not say that…but that isn’t what I meant. Your wife—”
Whatever my mother was saying completely faded into the background.
Story.
Hands down the most beautiful person in this room. Silver was her color.
Fuck.
All colors were her color.
She looked like a fucking princess.
Her eyes scanned the ballroom, searching, until she found me.
And then she stopped.
Smiled.
Melted.
Neruda she mouthed, before West dragged her off in a different direction.
I don’t know how I’m going to get her alone and give her the kiss she asked for, but if I had to start a fucking fire to clear the place, I would.
“Ah, there she is,” my mother said. She pointed toward the seven-foot Times Square ball drop re-creation that people had been taking selfies near all night. In script below the glowing ball it read: A New Crowne Year.
Lottie stood next to her mother, and I knew what was coming next. Go join Lottie, go be a good husband and father.
I left before my mother could say it aloud.
“Grayson!” Lynette crooned. “You look so handsome. More and more like your father every day.” I swore I saw a flash in her eyes. “Well, I’ll leave you two alone.” She winked at Lottie and left us.
Lottie watched her mother walk away, eyes glassy. “They want us to kiss, and then they’ll say it was taken at midnight. Our New Year’s kiss. So fucking romantic.”
“Lottie—”
She turned to me. “I told my mother we’d meet them on the terrace after, for the fireworks, but I think in a few minutes I’m going to get really sick…and maybe I won’t be able to take this photo.” Her eyes met mine, letting her true meaning sink in.
I didn’t know what to do with this new Lottie.
I didn’t know how to trust her.
On the terrace, her mother and mine watched us as we talked.
“I…” I rubbed the back of my neck.
I’m sorry I’m not the father of our child you deserve.
I’m sorry your dream turned into a nightmare.
I’m sorry.
“I’m gonna go.”
“Of course,” she said easily.
I slipped out of the ballroom as she went to join her mother and mine on the terrace. It wasn’t even ten-thirty, but maybe I could hide in our room, and when Story got the chance, she’d do the same.
STORY
A servant walked by with a tray of sparklers topping trifles in champagne flutes. I watched them disappear into the crowd, gold sparks bursting.
I hadn’t seen Grayson again, but he’d responded to my message, and I clung to his five words:
Anything for you, little wife.
It was still early in the night, the sun a glimmering orange line on the horizon. Tansy’s famous hour-long midnight firework show hadn’t begun, and I know we’d agreed to wait until just before then, but I wanted to leave now.
Be free of West before another year began.
As if sensing I was thinking about Grayson, West pulled me tight against his hip. “Want to make a bet? You’ll sleep in my bed tonight.”
“This again.” I pushed off him. “I’m not dumb, West. It’s a catch-22. If I choose you, then I don’t choose Grayson, and I have no need to sleep with you.”
“Ah, but, it’s the only way to save your prince, and you and Grayson have a bad habit of martyring yourselves. It gets so lonely in my bed… I might be tempted to share a video if you’re not there.”
I turned to glare, and West was already staring down at me intently.
“Westley du Lac.”
We both turned at the voice. I found myself looking into green eyes—I knew this guy, Hollywood, the guy Grayson nearly ended for just holding my hand at Unknown.
“Will I see you tonight? Both of you?” I could feel his eyes.
By the earnest way he watched me, I doubted he was wondering whether or not we were going to make it for Tansy’s annual firework display.
“We’ll see,” West said, then placed his hand on my lower waist, steering me away.
“What’s happening tonight?” I whispered.
“Irrelevant.”
“West!” someone called for him, beckoning wildly. West’s grip tightened on my waist, hard. “Du Lac!” The guy called.
“Don’t move from this spot,” West said. “And stop. Fucking. Talking.” I watched him join some guys who looked like they should be roofying the punch.
With him gone, I searched for Grayson. I hadn’t seen him in over thirty minutes.
I looked out over the room. At Abigail laughing with her sister Gemma. A year ago, I would have thought that an impossibility. Maybe absence really did make the heart grow fonder. The St. Germaines looked entirely bored on their phones. Across the ballroom, Hollywood watched me, his green eyes bright. Giving me goose bumps.
“Do you remember last Fourth of July?”
I turned, finding Lottie had sidled up to me.
“We met on the boat?”
I nodded.
She tilted her head, eyes misty as she recalled. “They’re going to go out on the yacht tonight and the biggest thing they have to worry about is their outfits. I am so jealous of them, Story. I remember spending all week finding that green dress, worrying if it showed too much skin…wishing he’d notice. I wanted Grayson to notice me.”
The life drained from her body again, like the memory stole all her happiness.
“He did,” I whispered.
Her eyes popped, head swiveling when I spoke.
“I was so jealous of you,” I said. “I knew he wanted you, that you were perfect for each other, but I was jealous he kept choosing you, anyway.”
Her eyes watered. “You gave me that pen and I thought I could trust you.”
I swallowed a lump in my throat. “I didn’t mean to fall in love with him.”
She sniffed. “I don’t even think I love Grayson anymore, Story, but… God, it hurts.”
“He’s still there? Like a rusted, flaking piece of your heart?”
Her brows caved. “Yes—”
“Oh my God, Lottie!” Aundi stumbled over, gripping her friend’s arm. Pipa stumbled close by. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you. Why are you still inside? Only old people hang out here.”
“Wait…” Pipa tapped Aundi’s arm excitedly. “She can’t get drunk.”
Aundi made a pouty face. “What are you even going to do tonight?”
“You could, though,” Pipa said. “We won’t tell. My mom drank with me and I’m fine.”
“I think I’ll pass,” Lottie said. “Thanks, though.”
“Come on. Come on. Come on.” They both goaded.
“Grayson’s not even here, so why are you?”