His sister bumped him with her shoulder.
“Do you want a Xanax?” she asked quietly.
Teagan startled. He was holding off on all his prescribed psychotropic medication until after he’d convinced Darcy not to fly back to Montana for the winter.
“Do you have Xanax? Did someone prescribe you Xanax?” he demanded.
“No, but, I mean, I could get you some,” she said, her expression stating that she thought she was being helpful.
“No, thank you,” he said firmly, making a note to interrogate her later on who was selling drugs at these events.
They followed couples in evening wear through the roped-off entrance. There was an open bar and passed hors d’oeuvres in a pavilion near the entrance, but the dance floor was empty so early in the evening, and the band had not yet taken the stage. Teagan saw people he recognized: friends of his mother, donors to the foundation, other charity executives. Twenty million people in this town, but the number of people who liked to dress up and talk about how much money they might give away was small enough to feel like a terrible kind of high school class, one which held reunions multiple times a month. He saw the one person he’d beenhoping to dodge until later tonight catch sight of him and stride purposefully away from the meerkat exhibit to intercept his path to the bar. Nora looped an arm under his and towed him off to a side path.
“Look at you two!” Nora said, gaze taking in only Teagan and Sloane. “Let me get a picture. Adrian, can you take their picture? We need to put a photo of you two on the website. Oh Sloane, my God do you look like your mother. You’re gorgeous.” Nora’s fiancé gave Teagan a silent look of apology as he pulled his phone from his pocket and halfheartedly pretended to line up a shot.
“Ooh, hello, Adrian,” Sloane said, wiggling her eyebrows at the artist, who winced.
Teagan put his arm around Darcy’s waist as she tried to stomp away from the conversation.
“Nora, I think you’ve met Darcy?” he asked pointedly.
“Of course I met her,” Nora said, checking the edge of her lipstick with a red-taloned finger. “Is that going well? Sobriety? You must be getting one of those little chip things soon. How many days has it been since you had a drink?”
“I’m not sure,” Teagan said.
“Oh, really? I thought alcoholics always knew exactly how many days it had been,” Nora replied.
“Seventy-seven”—Darcy looked at him oddly—“days since you were in the hospital, at least.”
“Then it’s seventy-seven,” Teagan said, beginning to feel a little dizzy again. He hadn’t had two panic attacks in a single day recently, but he was pretty sure he could manage it, if necessary.
Faking a history of heavy drinking was as good a reason as any to have one. Pretending to be sober for the rest of his life wasn’t going to be hard—he just wouldn’t drink—butpretending that Darcy was in his life for that reason needed to stop.
Tonight, he vowed. He’d tell her she could quit being his sober companion, and he’d handle his own sobriety from here on out. He’d start going to AA meetings, if necessary. He’d heard the coffee wasn’t bad.
“I’m still so surprised you turned out to have a drinking problem,” Nora said. “I can remember you driving out to pick your mom up when she’d had a little too much to drink. Oh well! She’d be so proud of you for continuing to support the Westchester Zoo, you know. She loved this party.”
“She did,” Teagan agreed, hearing ringing in his ears.
“You look very nice tonight,” Adrian said to Darcy with the air of a man putting himself into the line of the fire.
“Thanks,” she replied under her breath, fidgeting with a shoulder strap. Teagan would rather throw himself on a grenade than tell a woman what to wear, but Sloane had impressed on Darcy that she couldn’t wear her typical button-down shirt and slacks to a black-tie event. The only dress Darcy owned was of the tube variety, so Sloane had furnished this long blue dress tied with gold cord under the bust and around the waist. Teagan vaguely recalled the dress on Sloane, some years past. It fit Darcy very differently, clinging to some of his favorite places on her. She looked like a Roman goddess with her wavy hair pinned loosely and hanging down her back.
Teagan hadn’t said anything only because he didn’t want her to think he cared if she ever put on an evening gown ever again, but Darcy’s uncertain face said she hadn’t been sure how she looked before Adrian spoke.
“Did Teagan buy that for you?” Nora asked Darcy, gaze assessing.
“No. I think Sloane wore it to prom,” Darcy replied, wrinkling her nose.
Nora laughed politely. “Oh no. I thought so. I suppose there aren’t many reasons to wear black tie in Idaho.”
“Montana,” Darcy said evenly. “And no, usually not.”
“You must be headed back soon. Since Teagan’s almost three months sober.”
Darcy looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “Before Thanksgiving, probably,” she told Nora.
Teagan gritted his teeth as Nora nodded in satisfaction.
