I look up at him, and I’m certain mywhat-the-fuckface says it all. But, of course, men like Peter are oblivious.
“Where are you staying while you’re in town?” he asks, not even trying to hide the way his gaze dips from my face down to my breasts. “I have a guest bedroom…”
“I’m fine, thanks,” I snap. “I have a room at the Belmore.”
“Nice.” He steps closer.
I take a much-needed step back.
“When do you go back to…New York?”
God, the way he says it, like New York is some sort of cesspool, causes my hand to ball into a fist.
“Sunday,” I respond curtly, wondering if I might possibly be able to leave the wedding reception early and catch a late-night flight home instead.
Peter comes even closer, and I move back another step, bumpinginto the wall, which is when I realize this is so not okay. Home boy needs to take a big old step back. But before I can tell him to fuck right on off, I feel my phone vibrate in my purse, and I shrug out from between Peter and the wall, using the phone call as an excuse.
When I see Happy’s name flash on the screen, I don’t know how or why, but something feels off. He’d been messaging me earlier before the game, but since the game finished, I’ve heard nothing from him. I saw online that he was doing press with my father, so I assumed he didn’t have his phone. But since then, I’d been hoping for a flirty text and the promise of a sexy FaceTime call a little later. A voice call now seems weird.
Peter lingers, but I ignore him, sliding to answer the call. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Baby Draper we have a problem…” is all he says, his low voice foreboding, causing the hairs on the back of my neck to prick.
“What is it?” I ask, suddenly panicked. “Are you okay? Is Lucky okay?”
“We’re both fine,” he says dismissively. “But… I’m so sorry… fuck?—”
“Happy?” I press, interjecting his senseless rambling. “What is it?”
“Your d-dad?—”
My stomach drops into the pit of my ass.
“He… he knows.”
“Oh.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, closing my eyes as I try to think. “How?”
“Lucky.”
I rear back, gaping at nothing in front of me. “Lucky?”
“Yeah,” Happy says on a sigh. “She came to the game tonight, and?—”
“Wait,” I stop him. “She came to the game? Like, at Madison Square Garden?”
“Yeah,” Happy says, and I can hear the smile in his tone.
“Oh my God, that makes me so happy.” I beam although I know he can’t see me. “Did she love it?”
“She fucking loved it, Baby Draper. Wore her bedazzled Slater jersey, and every time I looked up to where they were sitting, she was waving at me. It was so fuckin’ cute.”
“I love that so much.” I shake my head as if I’ve just remembered exactly why he called me. “Oh my God. Okay. So, my dad knows because of Lucky?”
“Yeah, I stupidly introduced her to him afterwards, and as soon as I did, she mentioned your name and your dad was like, ‘How do you know Hannah?’” He puts on a deeper than usual voice, and I bite back my smile. “And Lucky was all like, ‘Hannah’s my daddy’s girlfriend,’” he adds in a high-pitched tone that makes me giggle. “I mean, I love that girl with my whole heart, but when I tell you it took all I had not to cut the ears of her Bluey plushie when I got home…”
“Happy!” I snicker at the thought.
“It was my fault. As soon as I introduced them, it was like I was having this out-of-body experience, watching on as if in slow motion, Lucky’s voice turning all deep and robotic and slow as she said the words, and the whole time I’m thinking, how the fuck did you think would play out, you absolute dickhead?”
