I set the glass down. “Meron told me you’re engaged.”
“He likes the way it sounds.”
“That’s not a denial.”
“It doesn’t count until he buys me an obscenely large ring,” she says, half smiling.
“You always did prefer leverage over sentiment.”
“And you always preferred idealism over reality.”
We hold each other’s gaze for a long moment. There was a time this kind of exchange would’ve ended differently—sharper, louder, naked. Now it’s just…data points on a neutral chart.
“You’re not concerned about propriety,” she says finally.
“I’m not concerned about being seen speaking to a woman at brunch.”
“You know that’s not what I mean.”
“I know exactly what you mean.”
She studies me, searching for hesitation. She doesn’t find it. “You’re going to make this complicated, aren’t you?”
“I don’t believe I am.”
“You always underestimate fallout.”
“And you always overestimate scandal.”
A beat passes.
“She’s young,” Amber adds, almost casually.
“Is that the part that actually bothers you? That’s why you’re in here pestering me for no real reason? She’s younger than you, so she’s a problem in your mind?”
She sighs like she’s bored, then heads for the door. “For what it’s worth,” she says without looking back, “Meron doesn’t like losing.”
“I’m not playing games.”
That earns me a short, humorless laugh. “No. You never knew how.” She leaves.
I remain in the quiet library a moment longer, considering the morning. Jason is marrying his former girlfriend’s sister. Amber is engaged to my former best friend.
And then there’s the Perry of it all. Beautiful. New mom. Clever. I am drawn to this woman, and I barely know anything about her.
When I step back into the main hall as guests begin to filter out, Perry stands near the front door, poised to leave. The brilliant midday sunlight shows just enough of the outline of her silhouette through the flowered, silken fabric of her dress. I can’t really see anything indecent—just hints of her true shape. A tantalizing tease.
She glances up as I approach. There’s that half smile of hers again. Just a little crooked. “Damian.”
“Drive safe, Perry,” I say.
“You too,” she replies.
The door opens. Warm air sweeps in. She steps out into it without looking back. And for the first time in a long while, I find myself genuinely wondering what comes next.
9
PERRY
