We抳e barely exchanged twenty words since the car ride home from the Rutherford gala. I抦 pissed梐t him, at myself. He抯 acting like the cold, aloof asshole I expected to find myself married to.
And it bothers me.
I miss the glimpses I got of the guy I don抰 think many people see. I hate how he抯 acting like I promised fidelity條ike me and other men is more than just a blow to his male pride. I want to tell him it抯 a ridiculous double standard, that no one here would be surprised to hear he抯 cheated on me but would be scandalized if I repeated what I told him in the limo.
What I lied to him about in the limo.
And that抯 the main reason I haven抰 made any attempt to repair the damage that ride home inflicted: the indifferent expression Crew wore. I thought my lies would at least dent his ego. I lied, and I don抰 want to lie again. I was hurt and mad, so I made up a 揌annah?of my own. I was hoping for distance. Just not this heavy, oppressive sort where it feels like we both might care we抮e barely speaking.
揇id you need something??I take a sip from my glass, trying to ignore the spot on my back that still tingles where he touched me just a minute ago.
He studies my movements. 揧ou抮e drinking??
I raise both eyebrows, then deliberately look at the glass I抦 holding. 揧ou expect me to get through this sober??
揘ot at all. The more wasted you get, the fewer people will ask me if you抮e pregnant. We both know what the chances of that are. With my kid, at least.?
I seethe as Andrew Spencer rounds the corner and nears where we抮e standing, erasing any opportunity to retort. 揥as that all, darling??
揊or now, sweetheart.?Crew has spotted Andrew as well. His tone has turned cordial. 揑抦 sure I抣l find another excuse to steal you away later.?
揅an抰 wait,?I chirp.
揅rew! I thought that was you!?Andrew stops directly in front of us, blocking my immediate escape route. 揌ow have you been??
揊ine,?Crew replies smoothly. 揧ou? How抯 Olivia??
揋ood, good.?Andrew抯 voice and expression are jovial as he looks at me. 揝carlett. Wonderful to see you.?
I smile, but he抯 already turned back to Crew. I finish off my champagne while they talk.
揌aven抰 seen you since the wedding,?Andrew says, frowning. 揌ow is everything at the company??
揟he usual.?
揗ust be more hectic than usual. You haven抰 been out in a month. Everyone has been asking about you.?
Crew抯 eyes flick to me and away, so fast I almost miss it. I find fresh interest in the conversation.
揧es. I抳e been busy.?
I didn抰 realize Crew and Andrew were this friendly. Honestly, I抳e never paid close attention to anyone he socializes with at the events we抳e overlapped attending over the years. I talk to everyone out of obligation, even those close to me in age. The girls I attended boarding school with always gossip and the guys will slip in a suggestive comment or two between bragging about their investments.
揃usy. Right.?Andrew抯 gaze is back on me. He抯 smirking, leaving no question as to how he took Crew抯 response.
揑 should have known seeing Crew is why you wanted to come.?Olivia Spencer saunters over to where the three of us are standing.
I had every intention of making a hasty excuse and leaving Crew and Andrew to talk about whatever they want. But something梡ossibly the way Olivia is looking at Crew梜eeps me in place.
At least Olivia is being somewhat subtle in her appraisal, unlike Hannah Garner. But I can still see the interest in the way her eyes widen and her lips turn up coyly. Before we got married, I made a deliberate effort not to pay attention to gossip about Crew when other women were involved. I抦 starting to recognize that might have been a mistake. These women think they know everything about me, while I have no idea what history they share with Crew.
揧ou抳e been complaining Crew hasn抰 been coming out,?Olivia adds, when none of us say anything. I don抰 miss the look she gives me as she does. It抯 obvious she blames me for the fact Crew hasn抰 been frequenting New York nightclubs, and I抦 tempted to tell her I抳e actually done everything I could to ensure he spends as little time around me as possible.
The petty part of me clinging on to the notion Crew Kensington is a means to an end, not someone who will mean something, is tempted to walk away. Instead, I decide to drop the act. Especially since Crew will think it抯 an act.
I step closer to Crew. He抯 wearing a white button down with the sleeves rolled up. His bare arm is pressed against mine now, sending small shockwaves across the surface of my skin. The electrifying sensation is almost enough to make me forget the purpose of this.
I take the glass from Crew抯 hand and take a sip, almost draining the remnants of the smoky alcohol. Bourbon. My painted lips leave some red residue behind, and I place it back in his hand. Not the most subtle of gestures, and neither is the choice to use my left hand. Diamonds glint in the sunshine.