Page 31 of Faster

Chapter Twenty-Three

If someone were to frame one of the thousands of photos being taken of the three of them in this moment and hang it in a gallery, it would be very tempting to entitle the piece, “The Most Awkward Dinner Ever.”

The artist and gallerist would not be wrong in their interpretation of the image, and Cece was tempted to turn her phone camera on all of the people recording them from the plaza.

She’d dressed carefully—in a vintage Diane von Furstenberg wrap dress, wedge heels, and giant gold hoops—something she felt comfortable and looked rich in. It didn’t work. She couldn’t calibrate her physical response to seeing Luca up close again.

He wore a white linen shirt. It was unbuttoned down to the bottom of his pecs. Had he worn a chain, he would have looked like a minor mafioso. As it was, he should have looked like any other man in the restaurant. But he stood out wherever he went as long as she was the one looking.

He couldn’t be more different than Ethan, who looked like he’d just stepped off his yacht for a bite. It was the kind of careless, good-natured aristocrat who doesn’t even know he’s hotter than the sun vibe that had people wanting to consume him.

At this point, after years of marriage, Cece should not be crawling out of her skin having a meal with her husband and his teammate.

And Luca and Ethan didn’t seem to be ill at ease with each other at all, which was weird.

They’d even exchanged a cursory bro hug before sitting down.

Maybe it was all for the cameras. She just needed to know what they were all doing here before her head exploded into a million tiny pieces.

Instead of standing up and going to the bathroom, she sat and picked at her fish. She was completely zoned out of the conversation between Ethan and Luca. They were casually chatting about a karting race in Hockenheim they’d competed in at fourteen or something.

She was spiraling a little bit until Ethan put his hand on her upper back and said, “What’s wrong?” Then, she felt as though she was in a free fall.

She couldn’t yell. Someone would hear. And she couldn’t let her riot of emotions show on her face.

Someone would take a picture, and then she’d be on the blogs and WAGs Instagram accounts with a flurry of speculation about the state of her marriage.

She’d done everything possible—well, everything but refrain from fucking her husband’s teammate—to avoid that.

Instead, she smiled widely, angling her face as far away from the cameras as she could, and said, “This is so fucking weird, you guys.”

Ethan smiled back at her. “Yeah, it’s definitely weird that you’ve been with both of us.”

Ethan thought saying that to both of them would be more satisfying.

He’d had some ideas about confronting them, but he’d ultimately decided on the route that would be least likely to have his wife in hysterics and Luca flipping a table and beating him until he couldn’t race on Sunday—public place, lots of onlookers.

At that moment, Luca looked as though he didn’t care about the surroundings and would beat him regardless. Cece looked as though her stomach had dropped to the ground and her heart was ground meat. So, he’d been right. They had been together.

“Doing that here is dirty business.” Luca was right. This was awful of him, but Ethan was a little bit terrible. They both knew that, and they were the ones who had an affair.

“How many times did you fuck my wife?”

Cece’s voice was so small, even though they were all speaking in hushed tones to avoid any other diners hearing. “Twice. It was twice.”

“You’re the one who cheated with a random girl your tosser schoolmates brought over on New Year’s Eve.” Luca was trying to defend her, but he sounded petulant. Ethan refused to look at him right now.

Ethan had tried not to think about that night after Cece had told him she was willing to move forward with him.

She didn’t throw it in his face every time they disagreed about something.

He’d thought she was being mature about his cheating when she was really just acting out of guilt. She’d done something wrong too.

“I’m sorry,” Cece said.

“No, you’re not.” Ethan thought she felt guilty because of how not sorry she was about fucking Luca. “You’re sorry you got caught.”

“I’d planned to tell you the truth at some point.

” Cece was starting to look distressed, and that wouldn’t work to keep the rumors about trouble in their marriage at bay.

“But there’s never a right time. We’re never home.

We’re never just the two of us. There’s always—always—someone lurking who could hear something that they shouldn’t. ”

She was right, but she’d chosen this life with him.

She’d known she would sacrifice her privacy.

But she hadn’t anticipated cheating in their marriage.

He’d promised her, and she’d promised him.

The fidelity that had seemed so important when he was looking at her and not wanting to become his parents had slipped away. He’d allowed it first.

“I actually didn’t ask to make you feel guilty.” He cleared his throat and then looked at Luca, who glared at him. “I asked because I wanted to have an honest discussion.”

Luca looked around and gave an offhand smile to the camera pointed right in his face. Ethan was surprised not to find a boom mic over the table. This had been a terrible idea. “Not really the right venue.”

“I know.” Ethan scrambled for a second, and he squeezed Cece’s shoulder again. “I’m not angry at either of you. At least not—that’s not the whole picture. Can we go back to our place? Alone?”

Luca stared at him for a long moment and nodded. “I’ll park at home and come in the service entrance to the building.” They’d done that when they were younger and didn’t want a bunch of tourists to know how much time they were actually spending together.