New York Billionaires Series

“You look happy,” Posie says, her hands sliding down to clasp mine. “That’s the most important part.”

“I’m really happy. He’s… well. I’m head-over-heels, really.” I laugh. “But how are you? How’s Ben? Is he here?”

“Yes, yes, he’s over there,” Posie says with a nod to where her long-term boyfriend is mingling. Her voice drops, tugging me closer. “I didn’t invite Robin, Summer, but someone dragged him along anyway. You know how it is.”

I nod. “Yeah. I figured.”

Anthony chooses that moment to return and my hands slide out of Posie’s to accept the glass he hands me.

“Happy birthday,” he says to Posie. “I heard you went to college with Summer?”

“I did, yes. We had a lot of music theory classes together.”

“Posie’s a virtuoso,” I say. “Think Mozart or Bach, but better.”

She laughs. “God no. Don’t listen to Summer. I play a few instruments, that’s all.”Material © of NôvelDrama.Org.

“Five, right?”

“Well, I added cello recently. I’m not competent yet.”

“Your version of ‘not competent’ is another person’s mastery,” I protest. “So six instruments.”

“I’m impressed,” Anthony says.

“She plays at the New York Philharmonic.”

“All right, now I’m even more impressed.”

Posie laughs. “Summer, you’ve always been better at selling me than I do myself.”

Anthony lowers his glass, glancing from me to Posie. “How was she in college?”

Posie shoots me a wide grin. “Oh, she was popular. Great at managing her dual subjects of business and music. Charmed everyone with that voice of hers.”

I shake my head. “Now you’re overselling me here.”

“Not in the least.” Posie leans closer to Anthony, lowering her voice. “This girl right here used to sell out the student café when she was performing. She’d write mash-ups of the most popular songs on the radio and sing them, harmonies and all.”

“Oh yes. I’d play guitar and she’d sing, sitting on a barstool with a single microphone, and bring down the house.”

“That was a long time ago,” I say.

“Yes, it was,” Posie agrees. “Far too long. We should do it again, Summer. Find an open mic in the city and bring the place down for old time’s sake. This time I can comp you on cello.”

“I’ll help,” Anthony adds, voice serious. “I’m passable at playing the triangle.”

We both laugh at that, and Anthony smiles, even if the look he gives me is full of speculation. He only knows me as the non-singing, post-Robin Summer. Posie is soon swept along on the tide of more friends come to celebrate her, so Anthony and I chat with some of my other college friends.

Well, I chat. Anthony chimes in on occasion, but he’s mainly a quiet, stable presence beside me.

It’s at least twenty minutes until I see Robin for the first time.

His hair is pushed back, disheveled flannel shirt front-tucked into a pair of jeans. I know they both cost more than they look.

My fingers tighten around my glass of wine. Anthony shifts, bending down so his mouth rests against my ear.

“What’s happened?” he murmurs.

“My ex is here.”

His hand slides to my low back. “The asshole.”

The heartfelt epitaph falls naturally from his lips and I laugh, looking away from Robin to meet Anthony’s dark gaze. “Yeah, that very one.”

“How do you feel?”

“Happy.”

His eyebrows knit. “Happy?”

“Yes. Happy I’m not with him anymore. Happy I’m with you.”

Anthony’s thumb rubs a small caress through my dress. “Ah,” he says.

“That’s it?”

His lip curls, but as he bends and brushes my hair back, the heat in his voice is unmistakable. “Yes, Summer. That’s it. Unless you want me to show you how happy I am in front of all your college friends.”

I sway a little on my wedge heels. “Let’s go home,” I tell him.

His eyes dance as he lifts his head. “Anything you want, but we can stay, if you’d like.”

I glance to where Posie is sitting, Ben’s arm around her waist and a colleague from the Philharmonic beside her. There are more than enough people here to celebrate her and we have a dinner scheduled in a few days, just the two of us.

“Let’s go,” I repeat, standing on my tiptoes to get closer to him. “Besides, Ace can’t be alone for too long.”

“Oh yes,” he agrees. “Let’s go home for Ace’s sake.”

I kiss him, loving the pleased surprise in his eyes. “Come on then, Winter.”

We don’t make it far before Robin intercepts us. He’s holding a Whiskey Sour in one hand. I remember once drinking them reluctantly with him, because he so often ordered for me.

How had I ever been with someone like that?

The me I’d been with him feels like the memory of a dream, and not a good one at that.

“Summer,” he says. His gaze slides to Anthony, and the calculating gleam in it is obvious to me now.