“Anne Elliot, are you drinking?”
She turned to him, wineglass hovering near her lips. “No.”
He narrowed his eyes on her and bit back a smile, waiting.
“I’ve hadonedrink,” she said, rolling her eyes. “But we’re celebrating Ellis’s birthday.”
“Hey. You don’t need an excuse,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender.
Beside him, Bev’s gaze bounced between them until she finally leaned forward.
“You went to college together, didn’t you?” she asked.
They both paused before Freddie finally nodded.
Bev turned to Anne. “Did you two date?”
Anne had been in the middle of a sip of wine and began to cough. Ellis reached over and smacked her back until she released a nervous laugh.
Jesus. Freddie’s mouth fell open even as he tried to work out what to say. Thankfully, James jumped in.
“What even constitutes dating in college?” he asked, waving his wineglass around and leaving splatters of pinot noir all over the table.
Cricket scoffed drunkenly. “What constitutes dating now?”
Glen looked momentarily confused, but didn’t have time to ask any questions before Anne leaned forward, adding another splash of wine to her glass.
“Dating is whatever you want it to be. It’s no one’s business but your own,” she said diplomatically.
Bev cocked an eyebrow at her. “Okay. Are you dating anyone?”
Everyone’s attention was suddenly on Anne, their attention rapt.
“I’m not, no,” she replied, then took another deep sip of her drink. “What about you?”
Bev sighed. “Not since Iggy.”
The chaos of the party overwhelmed them again. James asked Anne for the forks, while Glen passed Ellis another glass of red wine and Cricket directed Beverly to give her the box of the leftover crab Rangoon. The older woman ignored her, though, choosing instead to turn her attention to Freddie.
“You’re handsome,” Beverly said, her voice raspy.
He chuckled. “Thank you.”
“What do you do for a living?” she asked, throwing an arm over the back of her chair so she could face him fully.
“I used to run my own company, but I sold it last year. I haven’t quite figured out what comes next.”
She stared at him for a long moment, studying his expression. “You should model. You have the bone structure for it. Just like my friend Kenneth. He used to model for Andy Warhol.”
“Really?” he asked.
The woman nodded. “They hired him to be a mime at the Electric Circus over on Saint Marks.” Then she paused. “Come to think of it, I haven’t heard from Kenneth since that place exploded.”
Freddie’s eyebrows bobbed up. “I’m sorry?”
“A bomb exploded,” Bev replied matter-of-factly. Then she saw Freddie’s worried expression. “Oh, don’t worry. Kenneth’s fine. It blew up years after that show closed.”
“Well. That’s… good,” he said, looking to Anne again. She just stared back, eyes wide.
