My eyes narrow. Are we playing on symmetry, or what the hell is this?
"We'd love to accept the invitation," Lisa says, her grin widening. "Now we're just trying to figure out where everythinggoes, and how to start our lives here, but once we're settled, we can't wait to host you. Ben is a great chef too."
Then her eyes swing to me, colder. "Ben told me you're a writer, Emma. Apparently, a known one?"
Apparently. "Yeah, I write complicated romance stories," I say flatly.
"Oh, so basically about life," she says, her tone annoying the crap out of me.
"Basically."
"We're not big readers, but I'm sure you're wonderful at it."
We. We. We.Every time she says it, my molars grind.
Before I bother replying, she pivots to Richard like I'm already a closed book. "And you?"
"Investment banker," Richard says, adjusting his cuff on cue. "This building was co-financed by one of my side projects, actually."
"Oh." Her pupils practically turn into dollar signs. "Do you work with beauty brands?"
"Sometimes. We just financed another project nearby. The top has an incredible spa, all Blue Bahia marble."
"Oh." She gives him a shy smile. "Maybe you know my business partner, Philip Kowalski? We run a hair-product company."
"Yes. I know him. Vaguely." Richard nods, tone giving away he's not that fond of him and uninterested in continuing wherever Lisa is angling.
Lisa stays undeterred, though, digging into her bag to pull out a white brochure.
She's already halfway to Richard's hand when Ben's voice cuts through the bullshit, eyes on me: "Is your neck better?" His voice is concern threaded with irritation.
Richard and Lisa both stop, attention swiveling. I realize my hand is still pressed against my neck, so I pull it away. "Yeah. The pain is gone."At least the physical one.
Richard gives me a brief smile before his gaze flicks to the newspaper.
"Oh yeah. You're a doctor," he says, voice friendly enough to pass, but his eyes don't match it and he looks at Ben.
Lisa lifts the newspaper high, nodding. "That's him. Front page in one week. I'm proud of him."
Good. She should be.
"It's admirable," I say, finally tossing in my two cents. "Ben's always been very generous with the less fortunate. Even before the press cared."
Ben meets my eyes with the faintest smile, but it's there, and I smile back at him for the tiniest beat.
"I always told him he'd change the world," Lisa says, her hand drifting to his cheek like she owns the deed to him. Then she giggles. "Only if he listened to me."
My lashes drop. Heavy. Murderous.What?
As if Ben wasn't already Ben Bellini before she got to script herself into his life, hold his hand... sleep in his bed.
God, I hate her. I usually love you or don't care, but I hate her. And I refuse to believe it's just jealousy.
"Ben's a doctor at Zuckerberg, trauma center. He's very good at his job. Top-tier, actually," I speak to Richard, but it'snot for him, it's for her. So she knows that I know.
Her eyes flick to me—curious, maybe cautious—and I give her my nicest smile. The kind that saysbless your heart and rot in hell at the same time.
"Nice," Richard says approvingly. "I heard their ortho department's strong."
