Page 24 of Ethan & Grace

“Do you want to dance too?” Charles turned to Jessie, who’d been silently following the conversation. She was still sitting next to me, lips pursed in a sulky pout.

“Sure.”

Charles took Jessie’s hand and pulled her to her feet. He shot me a smug look, as if she’d been mine and he’d just stolen her away from me. They left the VIP lounge and followed Nate and Reagan, leaving just me and James. He slid onto the sofa beside me. I was pretty well built and had honed my body to near-perfection at the gym over the last few months. James, on the other hand, was slimmer—he had a Timothée Chalamet vibe, only blond.

“That’s a safe bet you just let go to Charles,” he said.

“Safe is boring.”

“But boring suits your new image. I’ve been hearing things. Apparently, you haven’t shown your face anywhere for ages,” James said, eyeing me from over the rim of his glass. “I’m worried about you.”

It was strange. First, he’d been worried that I was partying too much, and now it was that I didn’t party enough.

I beckoned a waitress over. “I’m fine.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Darlington.”

He was wrong. I was an excellent liar. I just didn’t feel the need to be convincing with him. The waitress arrived at our table, and I ordered another water. When I turned back, James was still watching me.

“You can talk to me, you know.”

I avoided his gaze. “I know. But some shit you just have to go through on your own.”

“I get that. Still—if you ever need someone to listen, I’m here. And if you ever want to get away, you can always visit me in Cambridge. Mi casa es su casa.” James clapped my shoulder encouragingly. “But until then, at least try not to look so mopey. It’s dragging everyone down, and it’s not doing you any favours either.”

“But that would?” I said, glancing down from the gallery at the dance floor, where our friends were dancing with the two women. If it could even be called dancing. At this point, it was more like public foreplay.

“Maybe,” James said with a shrug, sipping his whisky sour. “Besides, Jessie doesn’t really want Charles. She’s totally into you. Go for it!”

“Everyone’s into me.”

“See, now that’s the spirit!” James cheered me on.

It wasn’t the spirit—it was just one of my better lies.

The waitress brought my water. I took a sip and let my eyes wander across the dance floor and the bar. Suddenly, a familiar face caught my attention.

Grace Claymore.

I slid forward on the sofa to get a better view of her over the gallery railing. Her blond hair was pinned up to reveal the tempting, smooth skin of her bare neck and shoulders. She wore a dark, figure-hugging dress that accentuated every enticing curve of her body, and the tug I’d felt earlier with Jessie returned a hundred times stronger.

“Hey, I know her. Isn’t that the maid who cleans your place?” James asked, having noticed my stare. He leant forward to get an unobstructed view of Grace and her friend, whom I hadn’t paid any attention to until then. She had dark hair, and I was pretty sure I’d seen her at The Darlington before too.

I nodded. “Yeah. Grace.”

James gave an approving grunt as he studied them. “They’re hot. Shall we go over?”

I glared at him. “Keep your hands off them.”

“Possessive,” he teased. “Which one are you into?”

I avoided his eyes. “Neither.”

“The brunette?”

“I said neither.”

“So the blond, then,” James concluded.