Yann harrumphs. “I’ll show you passion when we get back to the hotel,” he mutters under his breath, surveying the wines.
Huda’s lips twitch. “Not until you show me the holotypes of Brontosaurus, Stegosaurus, and Triceratops,” she mutters back.
Adrian tries to catch my eye. I grab a wine menu and study it. The text blurs like smudged mascara.
“Cora,” Adrian says quietly.
Why is everyone talking to me? I can’t focus. My pulse is pounding too loud in my ears.
“Cora,” Adrian repeats. My gaze flies to his. His expression is stone cold, his eyes glittering. If he’s trying to tell me something, I can’t understand. I can’t stand to look at his face for longer than a second. My brain is glitching.
Delaney reaches for her water, and her bracelet clinks against the glass.
“Where did you get that?” I ask her, a dozen more unasked questions piling up in my throat behind it, choking me.
Did Adrian buy it for you? What was the occasion? What holiday, what anniversary? There’s always an occasion. He’s not spontaneous, my husband. Or is he, with you?
Was it really only once? Did he know you were coming today? Is this a setup to drive me crazy so you two can be together and steal my children?
I try to breathe. I’m in trouble. I don’t want trouble.
“Oh, this?” Delaney lifts her hand, pretending she’s surprised that I noticed. “A dear friend gave it to me. It’s lovely, isn’t it?” She twists her wrist, letting the light from the chandelier overhead catch the diamonds. When she lays her arm back on the table, she shoots Adrian a glance from under her thick, spiky lashes.
He’s looking at me. Is he worried that I’m going to explode? He should be. My lungs are collapsing, and the air that should be in my chest is filling my head, stretching my skull, pushing at the insides of my eyeballs.
Why does it hurt so bad? I don’t love him anymore. It’s not fair.
“What do you say, Maddox? Shall we start with a bottle of champagne?” Yann suggests. “’Tis the season, eh?”
“Let’s do a Moscato,” Adrian counters.
“You have a sweet tooth tonight, eh?” Yann playfully leers at his wife. “I must admit, I’m in the mood for something sweet myself.”
She snorts. “Too bad for you,” she says. “I could be sweet, but my feet hurt, and I haven’t seen a single dinosaur today.”
“My wife is impossible to please.” Yann says to Delaney and me. “You see—she demands dinosaurs. They’ve been extinct for a million years!”
“Try sixty-six million,” Huda corrects him, clearly amused.
The room echoes with too many voices. The server asks for drink orders. Yann tells Mike about a steakhouse in Dallas. Huda asks Delaney if she’s from the city originally. Adrian stares at me, and the shrieking in my head yells at me to flip the table. Run. Fall out of my chair laughing.
Itisfunny. I’ve seen the woman sitting next to me ride a dick, butt naked except for her high heels. I’ve seen the pink line at the top of her ass crack, and she’s lounging in her chair, chatting with Huda, making eyes at my husband every so often, not bothering to hide it.
Adrian’s composure has broken. He’sangry. Every minute that passes, his jaw clenches harder, the cords in his neck straining tighter. Huda begins casting curious looks at him, but the men don’t notice. They’re lost in an animated conversation that roams from brisket in Texas to picanha in Brazil to bulgogi in Korea.
The server brings wine and pours. Yann proposes a toast. I raise my glass to my lips, but I don’t sip. There’s no way I can swallow.
A few minutes pass, and the server returns to take ourorders. I order a filet. I never did read the menu. She asks if I’d like anything else. I stare at her, my brain and mouth disconnected, until Adrian says, “She’ll have the mushrooms, thank you.”
By the time the food comes, Mike, Huda, and Yann are holding up the entire conversation. Delaney smolders and smirks as she sips her drink. Adrian speaks when called upon and answers for me, too.
“Cora, you’re from D.C. originally, aren’t you?” Yann asks. “What beef dish is your nation’s capital known for?”
My brain slowly begins to process the question, word by word, but it keeps losing its place and skittering to focus on that god-awful watermelon smell and the clink, clink, clink of diamond against glass.
“She’s from Baltimore,” Adrian says. “They’re known for their seafood. In particular, blue crab.”
“Baltimore, eh? What brought you to the Big Apple?” Yann smiles. He’s being polite, including me in the conversation.
