I remember the name from Christmas, and Eloise was more forthcoming with the shit-talk on our shopping spree than Talon ever was, so I know a fair bit about the high-society woman in front of me.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she says in a way that clearly means she did.
“It’s all right. We have all night,” Talon says, kissing my cheek in a bold statement. “Zeke, this is Dahlia; Dahlia, my boyfriend, Zeke.”
She can’t hide her shock fast enough, and neither of us offers the other our hand.
I nod, finding my words first.
“It’s nice to meet you.”
It’s not lost on me that while he gave hernotitle, he claimed me as his boyfriend. As much as I love it and lovehim, I have to wonder if he’s fully thought this through. He onlyjustcame out to his parents this morning. He said it went well, but he also seemed a little guarded. I didn’t press, understanding he probably needs a little time to fully process. But here he is, outing himself to a person I certainly wouldn’t consider a friend.
“Boyfriend?” she repeats, swinging her gaze back to Talon.
He nods, offering no other explanation, and honestly? It’s the most perfect, dignified response he could have given because it’s no one’s business but ours.
“Can I get you a drink?” he asks her. “We were just heading to the bar.”
It’s obvious she wants to decline so as not to be in my company, but her status and manners prevent her from doing so.
“That would be lovely, Tal. Thank you,” she coos, using Talon’s nickname.
It’s such a passive-aggressive way of communicating that she knows him intimately, but it bothers me because evenIdon’t use his nickname…and I’m not sure why.I suspect it’s because I still don’t feel like I deserve him, and part of me is still waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Dahlia moves in step next to Talon, putting him between us, and I briefly think he’s going to offer her his arm. It would be the polite thing to do.
Instead, he makes a show of pulling out his wallet with his left hand—the side Dahlia is on—while keeping his right hand on my back beneath my leather trench coat.
The man behind the bar greets him by name.
“Mr. Devereaux! Haven’t seen you in a while. Thought maybe you forgot about us.”
Talon smiles. “Hi, Joe. I could never forget you. I’ve been out west sorting out a new property. How’s Annabelle?” he asks, making small talk that seems like something more. Talon knows this man’s family.
“Lucky business, to get the Devereaux stamp and come under your wing,” Joe says before addressing Talon’s question. “And she’s doing great. Loving that violin you gave her. Practices every day.”
Talon is beaming now.
“That’s great to hear. When she’s ready for an audition at Juilliard, you just let me know.”
“Thank you, Mr. Devereaux. What can I get you to drink?”
Talon turns to Dahlia.
“Ladies first.”
She orders champagne quickly and returns her attention to Talon, opening her mouth to speak, but he doesn’t see it because he’s already leaning down to kiss my cheek.
“What would you like, baby?” he whispers in my ear.
“Just water, please,” I tell Joe.
“I’ll have a Jameson on the rocks,” Talon says when the man looks at him.
Talon pulls me in front of him, wraps his arms around me, and presses his lips to my other ear this time.
“If you’re worried about spending my money, don’t be. Like Summit, I eat and drink here for free, which means you do, too.”
