Sophie kept her attention on Anne as she nodded over to him. “Do you want to guess how much that suit cost? And I bet he still paid a fortune to have it altered within an inch of its life.”
“So altered I barely recognized him,” Anne said, that small, familiar smile on her lips.
The words snagged on something uncomfortable inside him. Freddie knew that smile, how it held back a wave of opinions, allowing only the smallest, least offensive through. He had always been the one she would dissect and probe those opinions with later. But now he was square in its sights.
That was it, the thing poking at his chest. It felt like she was judging him. After years of telling him how important it was to have a plan, to grow up and be an adult, she was judging him for doing just that.
Sophie cackled, her head falling back as she clapped. “Right? Exactly.”
“And what about you?” Freddie asked, masking his annoyance with a placid smile as he nodded to Anne. “You were in the Columbia Business School to C-suite pipeline. How’d all those big plans work out for you?”
The words sounded sharp even though the question was genuine. He was desperate for any information about where she had been these past eight years, what she had done. But he had also seen her apartment downstairs. Met her roommate. Things clearly hadn’t worked out for Anne the way she’d planned, and he was almost embarrassed at his need to point that out.
She stared at him, eyes slightly narrowed.
“Great,” she replied. “Everything’s great.”
Their eyes stayed locked for another moment. Then Freddie looked away.
George cleared his throat, breaking the tension. “Can I get you ladies a drink?”
“Oh my God, yes. I need vodka,” Sophie said, as if she had completely forgotten her one goal of the night. “Anne, do you want a drink?”
She doesn’t drink hard liquor, Freddie almost said. The words were on his tongue so fast that it surprised him, a small detail he had worked so hard to bury for the last eight years yet reappeared like it had just been waiting for the right opportunity to emerge.
“No, that’s okay.” Anne shook her head. “I should actually be going.”
“No way! Here, give me your phone,” Sophie said, not even waiting for Anne to comply before taking it from her hands and typing away. “I’m going to text myself so I have your number, and we can meet up for a coffee and catch up without the running commentary and bad music.”
POP.
A champagne cork flew across the room and someone screamed, only for the room to erupt in laughter and cheers. Freddie looked to see the source of the commotion, and when he turned back, Anne was already making her way across the room, disappearing back through the front door.
The last of the guests left before midnight. A few years ago, it would have almost been embarrassing for a party to end so early, but now Freddie only felt relief as he collapsed into one of his plush new armchairs and took a long sip of his beer.
That had been a fucking disaster. Sure, he hadn’t thrown one of his parties in years, but it never entered his mind that he wouldn’tenjoy it. Yet, even before Anne walked in the door he was ready to disappear back into his bedroom. And then after she did…
Freddie pushed the memory aside, taking another sip of his beer. His starched shirt felt itchy and restraining, but he didn’t have the energy to get up and change, so he just unbuttoned the top few buttons and rolled up the sleeves, then let out a long-withheld sigh.
“I think that was the last of it,” Sophie called out from the kitchen. “I put all the wineglasses here on the counter and the plates in the sink.”
“You don’t have to do that, Soph,” Freddie said. “The cleaning people are coming in the morning to handle all of it.”
Sophie snorted out a laugh as she grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator. “Just when I think you’ve said the bougiest thing possible, you go and say something that completely tops it.”
“Thanks?” he replied with a wry smile.
She shuffled toward him and landed in the deep armchair across from him. They sat in silence for a long moment, looking out the window at the skyline glowing against the dark sky.
“So,” Sophie finally said. “Are we going to talk about it?”
Freddie’s body tensed even as he maintained his calm expression. He knew this was coming. “Talk about what?”
Sophie snorted again. “Okay.”
He frowned, leaning over and putting his beer on the coffee table. “Soph—”
“Did you know Anne Elliot lived in the building when you bought this place?”
