Maya clutched her pen, her knuckles white. “You’re going.”
“Of course.”
Maya’s cousin’s wedding was a big deal. Everyone I knew was flying to India for the festivities, and my family was no exception.
“Who are you going with?” Her tone was even, but I spotted a hint of unidentifiable emotion in her eyes before she smothered it.
“No one you know.” I hadn’t planned on bringing a date, but I might have to change my tune. The thought of watching her waltz around with Zeke all night while I flew solo made my blood simmer with something green and ugly.
“Yet I feel sorry for her already.”
“Not as sorry as I feel for Zeke—or you. A week is a long time to waste on something that’ll never get past the starting gate.”
She didn’t bother correcting me on his name again. “I’m not wasting my time. Like I said, I wouldn’t have asked him to be my plus-one if I didn’t like him. He’s cute, nice, agreeable—”
“So are puppies, but you probably don’t want to marry one.”
Cute? Nice?Agreeable? She might as well slip NyQuil in her drink and call it a day.
“There’s that Laurent arrogance,” Maya said. “You still think you know me so well.”
“I do.”
Her eyes glittered with challenge. “Then please. Enlighten me.”
“Fine.” I ticked off my points on my fingers. “You hate yes men, so you want someone who’ll support you, but who’ll also call you out on your bullshit when it inevitably arises. You needsomeone who’s not afraid of your ambition and who won’t be intimidated by your success. Their intellectual curiosity should match yours, and they need to hold their own in a conversation because you fucking love to argue, but you can’t respect anyone who doesn’t give as good as they get. You’re not just looking for a partner, you’re looking for an equal, but the reason your search has failed so far is because youhaveno equals. The best you can hope for is someone who can keep up with you, but I regret to inform you that Zack the Bleached Blond is not it—no matter how much you try to convince yourself he is.”
Maya stared at me, her breaths heavy in the ensuing silence.
“There you have it,” I said, my tone deceptively casual. “I could go into more detail, but then I’d have to charge you. I don’t work for free.”
Her grip on her pen tightened further.
“Sometimes,” she said, her voice quiet. “I really hate you.”
I turned back to my computer, my chest cold. “I know.”
After our meeting, I went straight to the Valhalla Club. I steered clear of the bar and chose to brood in the club’s members-only restaurant instead.
However, I only got a few minutes to myself before someone slid into the chair opposite mine.
“You look like shit,” Dante said.
I snorted, my hand toying absently with my glass. I wished it were filled with wine instead of water, but I’d learned the hard way that drinking alcohol when I was this keyed up hurt more than it helped. “Is there a reason you’re choosing to sit with me when there are half a dozen empty tables around us, or is my company that scintillating?” I asked.
“‘Scintillating’ isn’t the word I’d use,” he said, his tone dry. “Icame to grab a quick bite when I saw you here—looking like shit. Figured you could use a distraction.” He paused when the server came by to take his order. After the man left, he asked, “What has you moping around the club on a Tuesday afternoon?”
“Nothing important.”
“If it wasn’t important, you wouldn’t be moping.”
“I’m not moping.”
“Yes, you are.”
This time, I was the one shooting him an irritated glare. “It’s rude to invite yourself to someone’s table and then badger them about their troubles.”
“So you do have troubles.”