I GLIDE into the restaurant with my head held high, ignoring the whispers that follow me as I walk past the crowded tables. It’s lunchtime at one of the most popular eateries frequented by those I grew up with. Went to school with. Gossiped with and talked shit about, they’re all here.
Well, not all of them but quite a few.
I spot a girl who I graduated with that’s now a mom. Considering I’m currently on my period and not worried about that particular sans condom moment between Spence and me any longer, it’s perfectly fine for me to feel a tug of longing as I walk past her, noting her abnormally large breasts. I’m guessing they’re full of milk and the longing leaves me, just like that.
The idea of being a mom and having a greedy baby gnawing on my nipple does not appeal. I don’t care if it’s a little boy who looks just like his daddy.
Fuck that.
For now.
I light up the moment I see him sitting at the table, his gaze on his phone, his lips pursed in seeming disgust. I settle into the chair across from him, silent and sneaky, and he barely glances up, doing a double take when he sees it’s me.
“Darling. You’re positively radiant.” Monty smiles, and I smile in return before I reach across the table and take his hand. “You’re getting fucked on the regular, aren’t you?”
I nod, quietly beaming as I squeeze his hand.
“And not by that decrepit old man either. Not that I ever believed you had a normal relationship with him.” He studies me, and I swear I see the cogs turning in his head as he contemplates what he’s going to say next. “I always heard he didn’t like women.”
Again, I say nothing. How can I respond to his very-close-to-the-truth allegation? “It’s kind of difficult to get fucked by the dead.”
Monty laughs. “Please. The dead fuck all of us on a constant basis. I could give a list of things my dead relatives have done to my family that have fucked us for eternity.”
I release my grip on his hand, thinking of past Lancasters and what they’ve done to our family name. “You’re so right.”
“Forget our dead relatives. You need to tell me who your lucky man is. Or is it a woman? You know me, I don’t judge. I’d love it if you joined our team.” Monty sends me a shrewd look.
My smile is small. Devilish. “I’m with Spencer now.”
“Donato? God, he’s a gorgeous piece. Has a mysterious edge of danger to him that intrigues me.” Monty sighs and shakes his head. “I bet he fucks like a beast.”
“Monty,” I admonish, though there’s not much emotion in my voice. “So dirty.”
“You like it.” He glances around the crowded room before his gaze returns to me. “Where’s Summer?”
“She should be here soon.” Nerves bubble up, making it hard to speak. I’m both excited and worried to see her. I know she’ll be fine, and so will I, but the guilt I still carry over the way I treated her so long ago is ever present, and taxing.
I’m the one who put this luncheon together in the first place. I know her and Monty are extremely close, and he’s always been a good friend to me as well. Considering I’ve never had a large number of friends, I’ve always cherished him.
It seemed only right, to have lunch with the two of them. He could be a good mediator between Summer and me, if we needed one.
I send him a look. “I hear you and Cliff are getting cozy.”
Monty turns immediately coy. “Oh, it’s nothing.”
“Not according to Clifford.” I’ve been in constant contact with my friend since I returned to the city. He’s sad I moved out of his building, but he’s happy that I’m with Spencer.
He’s your soulmate, he tells me.
I suppose he’s right. It’s been Spence and me since I was thirteen.
Monty drops the pretense. “Fine. He’s a doll. So cute. Very attentive. Great kisser. Interesting conversationalist.”
“Wow. Looks like he checks all of your boxes.”
“I know. Praise be, a miracle has occurred.” Monty’s smile is wry. “I wouldn’t call myself in love though.”
“It hasn’t been very long.”
“A few months.”
I blink at him. “Really? Already?”
Monty nods, reaching out to grab his drink, and takes a sip. “Time flies when you’re having fun.”
“Or when you’re supposed to be in mourning,” I add.
“Please. If jumping on Spencer Donato every chance you get is called mourning, then sign me up.” Monty waves a dismissive hand. “Tell me how you two got back together.”
“We ran into each other at Whit’s wedding, and it sort of sprouted from there,” I say truthfully.
“I hear he’s got you holed up in that gorgeous apartment his father purchased with blood money and he won’t let you out of his sight.” Monty glances around the restaurant once again, a little more exaggerated this time. “Is he here? Spying on us? Making sure I don’t try anything on you?”
I roll my eyes. “Stop. You’re being silly. He lets me out of his sight.”
Barely.
“If he keeps you naked in his bed, I’m sure you’re not complaining.”
“I’m not.” I point at the drink he’s still clutching. It’s pink and frothy and looks delicious. “I want one of those, please.”
“Whatever the princess requests, she gets. Oh waiter!” Monty raises his arm, snapping his fingers, and I make a sheesh face because oh my God, so rude.
The server comes running right over. He’s young and gorgeous and staring at Monty with stars in his eyes. “Can I help you, sir?”
“Another one of these for me and one for the lady.” He inclines his head toward me. “Should we order one for Summer?”
“She’s pregnant,” I remind him.
“Such a shame. Just two please.” He bats his eyelashes at the waiter, who sends him a sexy smirk in return. “And hurry.”
The moment the server is gone, I’m slapping Monty’s arm. “You’re naughty.”
“He’s cute. I can’t miss my opportunity to flirt.” Monty drains the last of his drink. “Just because I’m seeing Cliff doesn’t mean I’m dead.”
“True.” My gaze catches on a dark-haired pregnant woman, making her way toward our table, and my heart leaps to my throat. “Summer’s here.”
“Gorgeous mama!” Monty exclaims, leaping to his feet and wrapping her up in a big hug. “God, it’s so good to see you.”
“Monty.” Summer returns the hug with the same enthusiasm, tilting her head back as she clutches him close. “I’ve missed you.”
I rise to my feet, afraid she might not hug me. Would she reject me? I’d deserve it. I know we’re on better terms, but sometimes it feels like there’s still a hint of animosity between us. “Hi, Summer.”
She turns to me, her cheeks glowing, her smile large. Genuine. “Sylvie. You look…”
“Ravishing, right?” Monty adds.
“I was going to say beautiful, but ravishing is more appropriate.” Summer hugs me and I squeeze her tight, closing my eyes, all the air escaping my lungs. This feels real. Almost too real, and tears threaten to spill. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to talk much at the reception.”
“It’s okay.” My smile is so big it hurts as it stretches my mouth, and I fall into my seat, watching as she settles in next to me.
“I’m so glad we could do lunch,” Monty says, clapping his hands together.
Summer sends him a look, and he drops his hands in his lap. “You would suggest the most public location to meet.”
“If we can’t help spread the gossip that we make by choosing a very public spot to meet, then what’s the point of lunch?” Monty lifts his brows. “Besides, you both agreed. It’s just as much your fault as mine.”
I shake my head, sharing a conspiratorial glance with Summer. “I didn’t choose this place, that’s for sure.”
“Please, you used to put your business on the front page of every gossip site, just to get a rise out of your mama,” Monty says drolly.
“I don’t bother with her anymore.” I wave a hand. “Our relationship is over.”
“For real this time?” Summer asks quietly.
My gaze catches on hers, and I nod slowly. “I can’t be alone with her. Ever again.”
Monty glances from me to Summer, then back to me again. “I feel as if I’m missing something here.”
“You’re missing nothing. Sylvia Lancaster is a toxic human, that’s all,” Summer says firmly, and I’m grateful for her answer.
“Aren’t most of the Lancasters?” Monty laughs when we both shoot him a dirty look. “I mean it with love! Our generation is much better than the previous one, my family included. Though you have to admit, all of those Lancaster brothers that came before us are a bunch of real pricks.”
“Augustus isn’t so bad,” Summer counters.
I snort laugh. My father even has Summer in his sway.
“I hear Reginald is a nightmare.” Monty mock shudders. “Mean to the very bone. Treats all of his children like shit.”
“Especially my cousin Charlotte,” I add.
“Well, she’s fine now, married to that blond hunk Perry Constantine.” Monty’s eyes glitter. “He’s gorgeous.”
“You think every man is gorgeous,” Summer says with a laugh.
“I can’t help that the Lancasters have impeccable taste. Or impeccable looks. I do think the only uncle of yours that has any sense is George, Sylvie. His only fault is he can’t keep his dick in his pants.”
I burst out laughing. Uncle George has five children with a variety of women, so Monty’s description is spot on.
We gossip about everything and nothing while sipping on our drinks, Summer sticking with berry-infused water. We order salads for lunch and listen to Summer talk about her honeymoon with my brother, leaving out all of the sexual bits despite Monty whining how he wants all the details.
“I do not want to hear her describe what my brother does to her in bed,” I say.
“You don’t have to! She can describe what he does to her against a wall. Or in the shower,” Monty argues.
The very last thing I want to know.
“You’re hopeless,” I tell him.
“You love it,” he counters.
When he excuses himself to use the bathroom after sucking down three alcoholic drinks in quick succession, Summer starts the real conversation.
“Tell me how you and Spencer got back together,” she demands, her eyes dancing.
I explain the situation, being truthful with her, but not going into too much detail since Monty will return to the table at any second. When I’m done, she’s watching me with a glow in her gaze and her lips curved upward.
“You two were always perfect for each other.”
“Like you and my brother?”
“Not nearly as toxic, but yes.” Summer waves a dismissive hand.
“I don’t know. I’ve treated him terribly for years.” I remember catching Whit referring to Summer as his whore once, and how appalled I was by that.
Then I recall how Spencer called me his whore at the house in California, and everything inside me goes warm and tingly.
“I think it’s the way Lancasters show they care about someone,” Summer admits, her voice soft. “You verbally abuse and push away those you love the most.”
I think of my mother, and her sort of abuse. She didn’t want to just push me away. She wanted me out of her life completely, which makes no sense when you think about it.
How was she going to get all of the attention my so-called illnesses got her if I was dead? Though she could play up the grieving mother part, that would’ve lasted her only so long…
“Whit told me he spoke with Spencer a few days ago, and that Spence seems the happiest he’s ever seen him,” Summer continues. “I’m sure that’s because of you.”
My heart feels as if it just expanded. “That’s sweet.”
“Are you happy with him? Truly?” She leans in closer, her assessing gaze snagging on mine. “I worry about you sometimes.”
“What do you mean?” I ask with a frown.
“That you might be searching for something that’s impossible to find.” Her smile is regal, her gaze lifting, and I realize Monty is approaching the table. “You took forever.”
“I had to piss for five minutes straight.” Monty settles into his chair, dumping his napkin in his lap. “Did the server come back? I want to order another one.”
“Please tell me you didn’t drive here,” I say.
“I don’t drive. I have a driver,” Monty stresses. “God, get it together, Sylvie. You know how I live. How you live.”
“I envy the both of you being able to drink.” Summer runs her hand over her swelling belly. “Little miss here won’t let me do anything.”
“A girl,” I say with a sigh. “I love that. Do you have a name picked out yet?”
Summer slowly shakes her head, her gaze on her stomach and nowhere else. “Too many options. I can’t make up my mind, and Whit is no help. He tells me it doesn’t matter what we name her, as long as I’m happy with it.”
“My brother actually said that?” I’m stunned. His favorite thing is getting his way.
“Well, yeah, after I let him come all over my face.” Summer slaps her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with shock as I gape at her. “God, I’m so sorry, Sylvie! I should’ve never said that out loud!”
Monty is laughing uproariously, clutching his stomach. I’m afraid he’s going to roll onto the floor if he doesn’t watch it.
“Nice visual,” I say with a grimace. “I hate that you just said that.”
“This is the best conversation, ever,” Monty gasps between laughs.
“I hate you both,” I tell them. “Now I’m tempted to talk about my sex life and freak you both out.”
“Do tell.” Monty sits up straight, all laughter gone as he props his chin on top of his fist, studying me. Summer mocks his position, the two of them focused on me. “Does he have a big cock?”
My cheeks go hot. “I am not sharing that.”
Monty turns to Summer. “He does.” He refocuses on me. “And does he know how to use it?”
“Very well,” I say without hesitation, giving my audience what they want. “He’s talented with his fingers and mouth too.”
“Dreamy.” Monty sighs. “You’re a lucky girl, Sylvie.”
“I know. I think we’re all pretty lucky.” Summer and Monty nod their agreement. They’re happy. Carefree. I’m happy too.
So why is there a constant feeling of dread coursing through me? As if everything’s going to collapse into ruin at any second?
“I’m having a little get-together,” I announce, my gaze landing on them both. They perk up at my words. “Something small. Intimate. Two weeks from now, on a Saturday afternoon.”
“Sounds fun,” Summer says.
“Tell me there’s a theme,” Monty adds.
“There is. A tea party.”
“High tea? Oh, that sounds glorious. I’ll wear a special suit and a hat, and I’ll also be as pretentious as fuck.”
“You’re coming as yourself then,” Summer observes, the two of us laughing when he gives us the finger.
“Jealous girls. You wish you were as cultured as me.” He looks down his nose at us, his gaze snagging on me. “You’re perhaps even more cultured than I am.”
“I probably am.” I shrug. All that good breeding has to amount to something.
“Guess I’ll just have to step it up a notch.” He contemplates me. “Who else is coming to high tea?”
“I’m inviting other Lancasters. A few cousins. My sister. My father and his flavor of the month. You and Whit, of course.”
“Of course.” Summer nods.
“A few friends,” I add. “Only the very closest ones.”
“Meaning everyone else will be dying for an invite. My favorite kind of party.” Monty rubs his hands together.
“Spencer will be there?” Summer asks.
“Definitely.”
“What about your mother? I do love a catty Sylvia. She always brings a certain je ne sais quoi to every occasion she’s at,” Monty says.
I stiffen at the casual use of my mother’s name. “She definitely won’t be there.”
“Such a shame.” Monty waves a hand. “We’ll have fun without her.”
Summer and I share a look. She doesn’t even know half of what my mother did to me, yet she understands. I’ve never shared with Monty any of those things. He only knows about the usual complaints—how controlling she is. Rude. A complete snob. All traits he finds admirable.
Would he find her attempted-murderer status admirable?
I’m hoping not.
By the time our lunch date is over, it’s well past three o’clock. Monty is three sheets to the wind, and Summer is ready for a nap.
And I’m eager to return home and prepare for my boyfriend’s arrival from work. Work he won’t really discuss with me, which only makes it all the more intriguing. My secretive Spencer. I can’t judge, though.
I’m just as secretive. Though not so much anymore. I opened up to him, and I’m hoping as time goes by, I can get him to open up to me.
Maybe.
