He doesn’t share his life with anyone, but for me, for us, and our future privacy, he’s done the right thing, and I love him even more for it.
“Another champagne?” the pretty waitress asks.
“Sure. Thank you, Bianca.” I hold out my glass.
I’ve been in awe all night that she recognized me earlier. Hollywood A-listers surround us, yet Bianca, an aspiring dancer who waitresses on the side, noticed me instantly.
So surreal.
“Not too many more. I can tell you’re tipsy. I want you to remember later,” Harrison purrs in my ear, biting down hard on my earlobe.
“You’re tipsy, too,” I protest. “I’ve never seen you drunk, I don’t think.”
“I feel more comfortable letting loose out here than in the city.” He discreetly licks the side of my neck.
My knees go weak, and I can barely stand. He’s been teasing me all night. “Can’t it be later now? Don’t you want to go home? You promised me skinny dipping.” I trace my fingers along the collar of his shirt.
“Fuck. You’re killing me. Soon. We’re leaving soon.” He pauses. “Unless you’re uncomfortable and truly want to leave.”
I shake my head. “I’m kidding. I’ve been having a great time and have met lovely people. I haven’t even seen Rachel. And honestly, if I did, I wouldn’t even care, screw her.”
“There’s my girl.” He grins and then sips his negroni.
“Plus, I have an exceptional spot for people-watching. I can’t move now.” I nod toward the couple fighting out on the expansive lawn, and then on my other side is a guy leaning against the side of the house, making out with two women, both of whom are grinding down on each one of his thighs. “I can’t believe they’re doing that in public,” I whisper, unable to take my eyes off them.
Harrison pinches my butt. “Stop staring.”
I wrap my arms around him and hug him tightly. Kissing his chest through his shirt. “Oh my god.” I push off him and do a little happy dance. “We’re next.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Harrison,” I groan. “For the psychic. We’re up next!” I point to Jolene, the psychic, who was hired for the party.
She’s standing next to us, talking to Marc and Richard. They’re a lovely couple I met earlier who own a famous floral company in East Hampton.
“I’m not doing it. You can. That’s not my thing.”
I frown. “Party pooper.”
“Who’s a party pooper?” Jackson grabs my drink and drains my champagne.
“Hey.” I playfully punch his arm. “Harrison. He won’t talk to the psychic with me.”
“Oh, I’m so down,” Jackson says, then grabs us two more champagnes as another waitress walks by and asks her for three tequila shots.
Harrison’s going to flip out, and I’m going to throw up, probably. But it’s all in good fun, and I wasn’t lying before I’m having a great time.
Suddenly, a breeze from the ocean hits me. “Oh, that’s nice.” I open my arms out wide. “It’s been so humid tonight.”
“Here you are.” The waitress passes out the shots to the three of us.
“Juliette,” Harrison warns.
I widen my eyes and mouthparty pooper.
Jackson dies of laughter while we cheers and shoot back the tequila.
“Hello.” Jolene steps over to us.
