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“Have you heard anything about Wallen?” My fingers squeeze my black clutch.

He shakes his head. “It’ll be okay.”

Nothing is feeling okay these days.

“Excuse me!” a voice calls out.

“Oh, fuck,” I groan. Ciaran’s lips twitch.

“Hi. Hello. How are you?” Nat crosses her arms, not hiding the sarcasm in her voice. She gives Ciaran a once over. “Who is this? Who are you?”

“This is Ciaran,” I introduce.

“Ciaran?” Nat’s brows lift. “Ciaran who?”

Her hair is down, and her makeup is the same as she does for work. She doesn’t give a fuck about dressing up but I shouldn’t be surprised that she’s here. Her girlfriend, Lia, drags her to events like this all the time.

“Ciaran O’Connell.” He offers her a hand.

She pointedly stares at it, arms still crossed. Then she looks at me.

“Don’t be a bitch,” I warn.

She shakes Ciaran’s hand. And then turns right back to me again. “Who the fuck is this?”

“It’s Ciaran.” I shrug.

“I’m her boyfriend.”

Nat wrinkles her nose. “No, no. I don’t like this.”

“Nat, could you not?” I beg.

She points at him. “This is the reason you haven’t been answering my phone calls?”

“You get annoyed when I call you!”

“This is not the 1960s.” Nat waves her hand in the air. “We did not send you off to NYU to get an MRS degree.”

“Sorry I didn’t have a high school sweetheart to keep me company.”

“You should be studying,” Nat lectures.

“You told me to get a life!”

“Getting drunk. Losing your security detail.” Nat’s already been looped in.

“Well, at least I didn’t take them to any crack houses this time,” I mumble, the back of my neck heating when I feel Ciaran’s curious gaze.

“No, now you’re just parading around”—Nat waves a hand around again—“at high flying fundraising events. Very mature. Very sophisticated.”

“Mature, yeah.” I flash her a look. My older sister is not coming across as very mature right now. “Where’s Lennie?”

“God, like she’d come here.”

She breezes past us, mumbling something about needing a drink.

“Stop laughing,” I tell Ciaran. “She doesn’t like you.”