“You’re amazing,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “It’s like you’re a superhero.”
She grinned. “Thank you for recognizing me with and without my glasses.” There was still enough adrenaline pumping through her body that she didn’t care how corny that sounded. “Do you want to get some air? There’s a patio on the roof.”
He nodded. “I’ll grab another round and meet you up there.”
She slipped through the crowd of well-wishers as quickly as she could, making her way up to the roof. It was mostly empty, apart from a few scattered couples and groups tucked away on love seats or sitting around the firepit, but as soon as she stepped out into the night air, the first person she made eye contact with was Alan.
She hesitated in the doorway, one foot pointed back out, and he chuckled.
“You don’t have to avoid me,” he said. “I’ll be a gracious loser.”
She sighed, then walked toward him, stopping well before the spot where he was leaning against the railing. “It’s not a competition.”
He glanced over her shoulder. “Where is Hercules, anyway?”
“Niko’sgetting us another drink,” she said with a tight smile.
He sniffed and took a sip of his bourbon, looking out at the view. “I’m a little disappointed in you, you know. Being so superficial in that department. Aesthetics over substance.”
“He’s very substantial,” said Merritt, already regretting not turning back.
“I’m sure he is,” Alan said, and even though his voice was mild, her cheeks still heated at the innuendo. “I just never thought you’d settle for someone who doesn’t challenge you.”
Merritt flushed even hotter, but with annoyance this time. She arched an eyebrow. “And you got all that from talking to him for thirty seconds?”
He shrugged. “Call it a hunch.” He put out his cigarette and took another sip of his drink. “I’m sure you’re having fun, for now. I’m happy for you. Can’t say I don’t understand the impulse. But whenever you get bored of wading around in the shallow end and you’re ready for someone on your level, you know where to find me.”
Merritt flinched. Through the heat of her anger, stoked higher with each condescending word, she felt the slow, cold drip of insecurity.
The insecurity that maybe, on some level, he was right.
She’d dated men like Alan before. Men who were hailed asgeniuses in their fields. Men who wielded their intelligence like a weapon, as a means to dominate others—who grew to see hers as a threat. They were proud of her talent, her success, but only to the extent that having her at their sides served as a reflection of their own brilliance. Privately, they cultivated their resentment toward her. No matter what they claimed to the contrary, none of them wanted a partner whose achievements could be stacked high enough to eclipse theirs. Alan still wanted her because he’d never really had her, but she had no doubt he was the same as all the rest.
Was she drawn to Niko because he gave her that same kind of validation she’d looked down on those other men for craving? Allowing herself to get drunk off his admiration, secure that he understood his place?
Merritt lifted her chin, her voice calm even as her hands shook. “A little judgmental, coming from a man who’s apparently allergic to women his own age.”
She sensed someone coming up next to her and glanced over to see Niko, holding a drink in each hand. She didn’t have time to worry about how much he’d overheard, though, because Alan’s face had contorted from cool condescension to rage, and she knew immediately that she’d struck a nerve, too.
“At least I haven’t fucked half the guest list,” he spat, gesturing toward the rest of the party.
Merritt recoiled like she’d been slapped. Before she could think twice about it, she grabbed one of the drinks out of Niko’s hand and poured it directly down the front of Alan’s suit. He spluttered in angry protest, his shirt stained pink with Sadie Rosé, the strawberry bouncing off his stomach and onto the ground.
“Sorry,” she said, still incandescent with anger. “Let me help you with that stain.” She grabbed the sparkling water fromNiko’s other hand and dumped it on the same spot, then took his empty hand.
“Let’s go.”
As they wound their way to the front door without a word, she was terrified to look at him.
31
They were quiet while theywaited for the car, other than Merritt asking if he wanted her to drive. Niko shook his head. He’d only had one drink. But as the valet handed him the keys, he almost changed his mind, since his head was spinning anyway. Merritt didn’t seem in much better condition, though, so he slid into the driver’s seat and pulled out of the driveway.
“Sorry about that,” she said, finally breaking the silence. “Fifteen years of therapy, and I guess I still have the conflict resolution skills of a Real Housewife.”
He grunted, half affirmation, half laugh, but he was still stewing over everything he’d heard, unsure what to make of it. He hadn’t known whether to feel flattered or offended when she’d introduced him as an artist, but even though he’d brushed it off, it was hard to ignore the evidence pointing to the latter. “He deserved it.”
“Just for the record, I haven’t fucked half those people.” She paused. “More like a third.”
