Page 125 of Ruin

It’s been two years since she got shipped out of town by her father because she was partying too much at NYU. I’ve been focused on grad school and wallowing in my own misery. But not anymore.

“Gigi?!Holy shit, look at you. You’re awomannow. I leave for two years and you grow up into some kind of Bond villain’s girlfriend who might stab a man in the throat with her champagne flute.”

“Don’t tempt me,” I deadpan, and we both snort. I laugh, hugging her tight. “You’re one to talk. What the hell are you even wearing?”

She steps back to twirl, her glittery dress cut so much higher than should be legal. “Something that screams ‘deport me back to Dubai,’ obviously.”

“Clearly, it’s working.” I laugh. “So, Dubai?!”

She groans, snatches two glasses of champagne off the tray of a passing waiter, holds up a finger to get him to wait, and downs both before replacing the empty glasses on the tray and grabbing two more. “Dubai is the vibe, babe. I just came home for the holidays; I love it too much. I missed you, bitch.”

She grabs my face with both hands like she might lick me just to be dramatic, then yanks me toward the bar. “Tell me everything. Are you still hung up on Tommy?”

The name is a gut-punch, but I hide it behind a big smile. “No. Completely done. I’m with Antonio now.”

Her face twists. “Ugh. Antonio? Really? That guy’s like a boiled potato in a tux.”

I snort. “He’s… fine.”

“Fine,” she mocks, rolling her eyes. “You don’t ‘fine’ your way into great sex, babe. You don’t ‘fine’ your way into fireworks. ‘Fine’ is what you say when the waiter gives you flat water instead of sparkling.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “You’re insane.”

She beams like it’s a compliment. “I know, and you love me. Now, where’s Antonio, anyway?”

“Somewhere being miserable.”

“Perfect.” She leans in conspiratorially. “Because your boy Tommy is here.”

My stomach flips. I busy myself with a sip of champagne. “Don’t care.”

“Don’t care, my ass. Want me to drag you over there? He’s with some blonde chick, but I can totally take her—andyoucan takehim.”

I roll my eyes. “What is it with blondes? Antonio’s girlfriend is blonde, too. Must be something in the water.”

I hear the words coming out of my mouth before I can stop them. It’s just so easy to talk to Lexi, and I’ve had no one to confide in other than my mother.

Lexi barks out a laugh. “Wait. Antonio has a girlfriend, and you’re his…what? Long-suffering wife? Or are you the side piece? Jesus Christ, Giovanna.”

“Less work for me. I’m fine with it.” Fine. I’m fine. Everything’s fine. This is fine. The more I say those words in my head, the less they make sense.

“Girl, you’ve got this backwards. I’ve got three men in Dubai keeping me in heels and champagne. Don’t be a tourist in your own life, Gigi.”

Don’t be a tourist in your own life. Don’t be a ghost in your own life.Good fucking advice, despite the sources.

“So you’re saying I should be more like you?”

She snorts and hip checks me as she drags me out onto the dance floor. “Everyone should be more like me, bitch.”

And all of the sudden, I remember what it feels like to breathe.

57

Tommy: New Year’s Eve, 3 Years Ago

Ican’t stop watching her. Same as last year, I stay out of sight in the shadows of the Dragovari Tower lobby New Year’s Eve gala, mesmerized by her like every other man here.

She’s at the edge of the dance floor, her head tipped back as she laughs at something Lexi says, gold lights from the glass chandeliers highlighting her cheekbones.