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“What did you say?” I press, unable to help myself.

Olivia hesitates, biting her lower lip. Finally, she takes another swig of her drink and meets my gaze head-on.

“Imayhave implied that your friendship with Daniel is…unhealthy,” she says slowly. “That you two are too close, too dependent on each other.”

I blink, taken aback. “Well, I can see why Daniel didn’t take too kindly to that. You make it sound like you think we’re in love with each other or something.”

“I do,” she says softly as her eyes roam my face. “I think he’s in love with you, Charlie. And I think you’re in love with him.”

Chapter 18

Anything’s Possible

Daniel

A half-empty bottleof champagne sits in the center of the table, taunting me. Daring me to down the rest of it. This night has been torture, made only slightly better by one friendly face that’s been keeping my misery company.

I steal a glance at Harrison and smirk. Boredom practically oozes from his pores. The sound of a fork on glass pulls my attention away from him and to the stage at the far side of the room.

Susan smiles at us all with a microphone in her hand. Her pearls sparkle under the soft lighting. “Thank you all for coming,” she coos, her voice crackling through the speakers. “Tonight is a very special night for Bill and me. Twenty-five years of marriage, and we couldn’t be happier.”

Harrison mutters something under his breath. I lean in closer. “What?”

“I said, kill me now.”

I bite back a laugh. “Come on, it’s sweet.”

He rolls his eyes so hard I fear they might fall right out of their sockets. “It’s nauseating.”

Susan continues, oblivious to her son’s disdain. “We’ve had our ups and downs like most couples do, but through it all, we’ve remained committed to each other and our family.” She scans theroom for Harrison. When she sees him, she flashes that fake smile again. “Family iseverything.”

Harrison tenses beside me. It makes me wonder how many speeches he’s had to sit and listen to while seething inside.

“You okay?” I whisper.

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he reaches for the champagne bottle and does what I contemplated doing. After wiping his mouth, he flashes me a fake smile of his own. “Just peachy.”

Susan holds up her glass, and the room follows suit. “To love and family.”

The crowd echoes her toast and clinks their glasses together. I turn to Harrison and hold up my glass to him. “Cheers,” I murmur.

He cocks his head and studies me like I’m a dog at the pound. After a couple of minutes of being scrutinized, he abruptly stands, jostling the table. “I need some air.”

As if his ass is on fire, he weaves around the tables and disappears onto the balcony. I want to follow and tell him that I’m as conflicted as he is about all of this bullshit. But I know rushing after him will only make things worse. Instead, I finish my champagne, letting its gross warmth spread through me. Susan has relinquished the microphone to Bill, who is now entertaining the crowd with stories from their early years together.

They’re the kind of stories that make rich people sound like characters in a sitcom. Abadsitcom. And I’m the only one who isn’t laughing.

Couples areslow-dancing on the dance floor, food has been delivered to our tables and eaten, and Harrison still hasn’t returned. Concerned, I excuse myself from the table and join him on the balcony. The moment I step outside, a heavy weight lifts from my shoulders. The cool air is a much-needed reprieve from the stuffyballroom.

I don’t make my presence known yet. I take the time to enjoy the view before me—Harrison’s silhouette against the city skyline. He has his elbows propped on the brick wall that prevents him from plunging to his death. He stares out at the city lights twinkling like fireflies, his head in the palms of his hands.

New York at night is a breathtaking sight. From our vantage point, the city seems to stretch out for miles and miles. The Empire State Building looms in the distance, its spire lit up purple. I’m surprised to find that the sound of honking cars and sirens reaches us all the way up here. It mixes with the soundtrack of the string band back inside, playing a Bastille song.

“Hey,” I say softly so as not to startle him. I walk up to the wall and lean on it, same as him. “I love this view. It makes you feel like anything’s possible, you know?”

Harrison briefly glances at me. “I suppose.”

“When I was a kid and lived upstate, I used to dream about running away to the city. Just packing a bag and hopping on a train, leaving everything behind.”