Page 36

Before I can question myself, I send a text to my sister, Bella, Lucinda, and Astrid. If I’m doing this, I might as well have four pretty buffers. Not that their presence stopped what happened at the art gallery.

No men’s toilet for me, I tell myself. I’d better pee before I go.

After ballet, I have a study period I spend arguing with my debate group about the necessity of the monarchy in modern-day Anderia—gleefully supporting the nope side—and then I only have time to run home to drop my stuff and change. I showered after ballet, so I just remove the band top I wore all day, and replace it with a fresh one, patently refusing to pick anything nicer.

I know the steakhouse on Main; it’s close to campus, so I’ve eaten there a couple of times, and ordered takeout more often than I can count. Even Annalise would agree that jeans and a T-shirt is perfectly acceptable there.

I make it at ten past, and my eyes immediately find him, seated at the head of a long table, an empty seat to his left.

Grace is already there; she and the other girls made it clear wild horses wouldn’t stop them from having dinner with Callum and his polo pals.

One glance around the table, and I know why.

Not a single guy is anything less than a fucking ten. There’s a tall and gorgeous Asian flirting with Lucinda; Sebastian, seated so close to Bella she might as well be on his lap—though sheisengaged to a bloody prince. Another guy stands out, because he reminds me of both Sebastian and Callum: dark hair and light eyes like theirs, a similar mouth. He’s certainly older than me, but I’d be hard pressed to say by how much. Twenty-five? Thirty? No clue.

The last is very well known. The heartbroken heartthrob who lost his fiancée when Bella’s sister broke off their engagement—and left the country, to boot. Only Less Valmont doesn’t seem the least bit heartbroken now, laughing his ass off at something Grace just said.

Callum stands as I approach, wordlessly pulling out the chair next to his, bringing it to the head of the table along with his, rather than the first seat on the long side.

“Hey,” I say awkwardly.

He presses his lips to my cheek as I approach, and throws his arm over the back of my chair once we’re both seated.

I don’t need a mirror to know that I’m beet red.

“Are you gonna introduce Liv, or should I?” Sebastian says, raising an eyebrow.

Callum rolls his eyes. “Everyone, Liv. Liv, you know that asshole, Caden is his brother, Less is our…second cousin twice removed?”

“From your mother’s side, yes, I think so.” Less Valmont nods.

“Are we doing the whole familial relation thing again?” Caden, the older guy I don’t know, sighs. “It’s awfully tiresome. I mean, you guys are first cousins, we are second and third…”

Callum wrinkles his nose. “Yeah, please don’t enlighten my girl on how inbred we all are, man. And this is Declan Huxley—Hux for short.”

That name, I do recognize. “Aren’t you a professional soccer player?”

“Yes, ma’am. You’re a fan?”

I snort before I can help it. “No, but my father never missed a game.”

He smiles. “I can send you a ticket for him.”

Yeah, I don’t think so.

I haven’t spoken to my father since I moved out. I have no reason to reach out, and he hasn’t either. I don’t expect he will at any point in my life. And the thing is, I really don’t mind. I feel more kinship with Grace after two weeks than him after close to two decades.

“Pass, but thanks.” I manage a smile. “We aren’t close.”

“How about your mom?” Hux asks.

That’s the most natural question in the world, and one that always tends to follow those about my dad. “She’s dead. Wasn’t much to write about either.”

“Ha!” Caden snorts.

Meanwhile, Hux leans across the table toshake Callum’s hand.

“What am I missing?”