“Maggie said she agreed to keep it from West.”

“For now. She’s not going to lie to him. In fact, if he ever finds out about you two, he’s probably going to be pissed at her too.”

“Thanks for piling that on.”

“I’m just saying,” she continued. “This isn’t the simple, easy thing the two of you like to pretend it is. More and more people are getting dragged into it.”

“I know.”

“So what are you going to do? Because you’re eventually going to have to do something.”

“If Maggie has her way, we’ll be through in a couple of weeks.” I sniffed and ran a hand down my tie, feeling uncomfortable.

Her eyebrow raised. “And if you have your way?”

“I don’t know. She suggested ending it tonight, and I didn’t want to.”

She shook her head. “Am I hearing you right? You want to date Maggie? Publicly?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“It’s what you implied.”

“I don’t know, Astrid. I’m not ready to walk away, not just yet. But I won’t hang you out to dry with Sam.”

She put up a hand. “Listen, if we have to end the charade, it’s fine. I don’t want to stand in the way of something you want just because of my own fucked-up relationship. But I’m just surprised to hear you say you want that much more from Maggie.”

I frowned. “Me too.”

She watched me for a breath. “So what are you going to do? Ride it out the next couple of weeks and then decide? Talk to West?”

I laughed wholeheartedly. “There’s no talking to West. But I might be able to feel him out, see if I can figure out how bad it will be. But I don’t know exactly what to do about Maggie.”

“What are your options?”

“Do nothing. Wait and see. Talk to her. It’s just that I don’t know what to say.”

“You better watch out — you’re gonna spook her.”

I looked down my nose at her, smiling. “You doubt my skills of persuasion? I’m as adept at navigating social situations as I am sea charts and Prague. Which is to say, very good.”

She rolled her eyes and laughed. “Easy for you to say. You weren’t just cheated on at the altar.”

I frowned. “It’s been three months. I mean, she seems fine. She never talks about him, doesn’t act like she’s bothered by it.”

Astrid looked at me like I was an idiot. “And you don’t think that’s a front? It seems pretty obvious that her rules are just something for her to hide behind.”

“Of course they are. It’s not like I’m asking her to get married, Astrid. I just don’t want to walk away, but that means we can’t hide. And if we’re going to agree to tell West, then she has to admit that she wants me for more than just a fuck buddy. And then … well, we can just take it day by day. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing otherwise anyway.”

She chuckled. “Isn’t that the truth?” We pulled up to the club, and her smile fell as she looked beyond the window at the people and paparazzi. She took a deep breath and said half to herself, “Here we go.”

Astrid threw open the door and slid out, and I did the same, hurrying around the car to meet her as we were flanked by photographers. Flashes strobed, and Astrid hung on to me as we barreled toward the entrance, though I couldn’t see anything, just followed one of the bouncers toward the door as the rest pushed the paparazzi back.

We stopped just inside the door to adjust to the dark after the visual assault, the bass from the club thumping. I glanced into the club, nodding in appreciation as we walked in.

The vaulted ceiling swept up in pointed arches, the dance floor lined with columns. At the end of the long space was the DJ, the tables standing in front of a massive stained glass display in a seemingly random pattern. But as I watched, I realized it was changing, moving slowly. It was a screen. I shook my head, smiling.

Astrid pulled me toward the bar in the main club.

“Where are we going?” I yelled over the music.

She pointed to the bar. “Bastian.”

I glanced over to find Bastian leaning against the bar, blond and muscular, smiling bright and looking dapper as fuck in slate pants and a white tailored shirt. He smoothed his tie and pushed off the bar to greet us. He was one of Astrid’s closest friends and a dancer with Lily at the New York City Ballet.

“Hey, bitch.” He kissed Astrid on the cheek.

“Hey, whore.” She kissed him back. “I’m glad you came.”

“I’m glad you invited me. How are you, Mr. Moore?”

I smiled. “Living the dream.”

He looked me up and down. “Yeah you are. Is Lily with you?”

Astrid laughed. “That’s funny, Bas.”

He shrugged. “I had to ask. I wish she’d come out more often. We only see each other at work, which is a sad, sad thing.”

“None of us see her much these days. She’s holed up with West.”

“Well, at least she’s got that. I wouldn’t be complaining about being holed anywhere by him.”

A laugh shot out of me.

“Let’s go get drinks,” Astrid said and hooked her arm in his. “Really, what would I have done if you hadn’t come?”

“I dunno, maybe you would have hung out with your date? I know that’s what I’d be doing. I mean, have you seen him?”

I snorted.

We headed up the stairs to VIP, and Ash caught sight of me from across the room, smiling as he threw his hand up in the air to greet me. It was the same boyish grin he’d had ever since we we’d met at age five. I couldn’t help but smile back. The asshole was the closest thing to a brother I had.

He met us halfway and went in for a hug, clapping me on the shoulder as we bumped chests. “Coop, you made it. What’s up, man?”

I shook my head, still smiling. “Oh, you know. The usual.”

He jerked his chiseled chin at Astrid. “’Sup, Astrid?” He leaned in to kiss her cheek.

“Hey, Ash.” She pressed her cheek to his. “How long have you guys been here?”

He ran a hand through his blond hair just as a giggling brunette came out of nowhere and nearly fell into him. He hung an arm on her shoulder, smiling wide at me. “Not nearly long enough. Come on, let’s get you guys drinks.” He swung an arm in invitation, and we followed him through the club to his table, which was packed with people. His entourage was hanging around, mostly friends we’d had since high school, each with a girl or two I’d never seen before draped over them.

Ash poured Astrid a gin and tonic, then a scotch for me and Bastian. I nearly emptied mine on the first sip. Everyone was drunk and laughing, all carefree smiles and general not-giving-a-fuck. It was their specialty. It was mine, too, in a way.

He laughed and hooked his arm around my neck, his drink in his free hand. “Fuck, man, we were just talking about Bikini Girl in Ibiza.”

“You can’t put sunscreen there!” Ash and a couple of the guys yelled, and we all broke out laughing.

Ash shook his head and let me go. “We haven’t been back in, what, three years? It’s time, man. Way past time. Let’s do it this summer.”

“Only if you wear the hat.”

He clinked his glass to mine. “Oh, fuck yeah. I’ll wear the hat to Bocca Scopare if it’ll get you to Ibiza.”

Bastian raised an eyebrow. “What’s so terrible about ‘the hat’ that it takes bribery to get one to wear it?” He took a sip of his drink.

I shook my head. “We found this hat in Turkey that looks like the head of a giant dick. With a baseball rim.”

Bastian nodded, amused. “I approve. Seems appropriate to wear to a restaurant called Mouth Fuck.”

I laughed. “I just want to see him try to make it through the front door of Scopare with that hat on. It’s got veins and everything.”

He raised his glass. “And it was worth every penny I paid for it, too.”

I shook my head. “He walked up and down the nude beaches asking girls if they knew any dickheads.”

Astrid laughed. “Oh, my God. You would, Ash.”

“I have no fear.”

“Or shame,” she added.

“Same thing.” He took a drink.

Astrid killed her drink and patted him on the shoulder. “Oh, Ash. Come with me to get a drink, Bas. Don’t make me brave the wildlife alone.”