“Why does it smell like fish in here?” Liam scrunched up his nose at the smell.
“Baked salmon,” I said.
“We’ll be smelling it all night. Who serves fish at a dinner party?” Liam asked Charlemagne who only shook his head in displeasure. “If I’d known you were serving fish, I’d have brought a white. I have a lovely Gaja at home. You should have told me, Bitz.”
Bitzy made her apologies. Her tiny kitchen was crowded with bodies spilling over into the small dining area. There was not much room to navigate between the extended table and chairs. Our guests were still getting drinks and picking at hors d'oeuvres when I called them to attention. I’d given Arden a later arrival time so that I could properly prepare my friends.
“I invited someone new to join us tonight, and I want you all to be nice,” I told them.
Liam rolled his eyes. “Censoring us already? Oh, goody.”
“I mean it. I’ve only just met him, and I don’t want you cannibalizing him in the first five minutes.”
“So, you haven’t fucked him yet?” Franco asked crassly with one arm slung casually around his date. Marquis elbowed him with a scowl. “What? It’s relevant.”
“We’ll be perfectly pleasant,” Aparna said with a smile.
“I know thatyouwill.” I shot Liam a look. His intelligent eyes narrowed.
“If you don’t enjoy my company, I don’t know why you invite me to these things,” he said, insulted.
“For the wine,” Franco said, and Liam’s frown twitched into a grin. They used to despise each other, but over the years they’d developed something of a combative friendship, often using their alliance to outnumber me.
There was a knock, and I hustled to the door to find Arden, freshly showered with his light brown hair falling in soft, layered waves. Wind-swept and ruddy cheeked, he wore a long-sleeved button down made of some silky material in a sage color that highlighted the green in his eyes. The top two buttons were undone in a way that only a model or a pimp from the seventies could make look authentic.
“And who’s this?” Bitzy asked, while I stood in a daze—he had that effect on me.
“You must be Bitzy.” Arden thrust a bouquet of flowers in her direction.
“Thank you. You’re taller than I expected.”
“Six foot, one, milady,” he said with a chivalrous bow.
“Welcome to my rent-control apartment. I like your freckles.”
“I live not far from here,” Arden said as she ushered him inside. “I love the neighborhood. Wow, what a view.”
Bitzy beamed. She paid nearly a thousand dollars more each month in rent for the view of the East River and the Manhattan skyline, and she appreciated it when people took notice.
“This is for you.” Arden shoved a book in my hand, a well-worn copy ofThe Old Man and the Sea. We’d talked about Hemmingway over lunch. I told him I’d readThe Sun Also RisesandA Farewell to Armsbut that I’d never gotten around to reading this one, and it washis favorite. “I know the e-book is probably free, but I thought—”
“Thank you.” I hugged him on impulse. He went stiff for a moment, then relaxed in my embrace. I thought he might be worried about me wrinkling his shirt or, similar to Liam, didn’t appreciate public displays of affection. I pulled away to discover we had an audience.
“Everyone, this is Arden. Arden, this is…” I rattled off their names, forgetting the name of Franco’s date for a moment, so that he had to supply it himself. I apologized profusely, red-faced at my slip. I was stupidly nervous. Collette saved me by complimenting the flowers and asking whether Arden lived nearby. He said his apartment was just a short walk away. Franco kept eying Arden as though he couldn’t believe he was sharing space with someone as attractive as himself. Liam looked scornful.
I led Arden to the kitchen island where I left him to chat with Marquis while I made him a club soda with mint and lime at his request. Aparna asked how we’d met, and Arden relayed the story to her. I filled in the bit about how I’d found him again, leaving out Bitzy’s detective work. We then transitioned to the dining table where Bitzy and I served the salmon with a rice pilaf and green beans sautéed in butter and slivered almonds. Franco had brought a loaf of bread with a good, thick crust, which Arden avoided.
Liam poured the wine, and Arden held up one hand to stop him. “None for me, thanks.”
“Didn’t you walk here?” Liam said.
“Yes, but I don’t drink.”
“This is very good wine.” Liam took offense when people didn’t enjoy his hospitality.
“I’m an alcoholic,” Arden said, and though he’d not meant for it to be some dramatic admission, the room quieted. Arden looked up from his plate to find everyone staring at him.
“Arden, we’re all alcoholics,” Franco said lightly. Arden chuckled, and I scolded myself for not saying something clever to rescue him.
