Chapter 23 #2
When John steps in front of me again, I place my hand flat on his chest, slipping it between his jacket and shirt. “If it makes you feel any better, you’re so handsome, I think I’ve forgotten how to walk.”
He smiles and holds out his arm for me to take it.
“Come sit on the bed. I have something for you.” He leads me to the bed, and I sit down very carefully.
He smooths the palm of his hand down my left arm and then slides his hand into his pocket, pulling out a slender and delicate diamond bangle bracelet. He takes a seat next to me.
“John, it’s so pretty.” Pretty is almost a ridiculous word for it. It probably cost thousands. But it is. It’s so pretty. I’m not a big jewelry person, but I have no qualms about wearing this dainty thing.
He kisses the inside of my wrist, where my pulse races, before joining the clasp of the bracelet there.
“Thank you.” I try to suppress my joke reflex and just show my gratitude for this gift.
Buuuut I can’t. “It’s not an engagement ring, but this does grant you access to butt-adjacent activities.
” I force a laugh, and it comes out like a weird cough.
Now I know how John felt when we were at Merrick’s.
“Achievement unlocked” is all he says. He looks at his watch. “We need to go. The driver will be downstairs in two minutes.” His voice is no longer a seductive whisper; it’s a school principal’s sharp order. “I don’t want to be late.”
So, we go.
The Museum of Natural History is about a twenty-five-minute drive from John’s building.
Even I can smell my heady perfume filling the back of this stretch limo, and I see that John is struggling to moderate his thoughts so he can avoid getting a pre-gala erection.
I try to help him out by bringing up a non-sexy subject. “My mom asked if we want to stay with them when we’re in Cleveland. I know Sanjay made reservations—”
“Yes.”
“Yes, he made reservations?”
“Yes, we should stay with your parents. I’d love that. If you want to.”
“I do. But I should warn you—they just got a puppy. He sounds very…puppy-like.”
John screws up his face. “I like puppies. I think. I haven’t been around very many.”
“Well, that’s just sad.”
He blinks. “Is it? It is, isn’t it? What about Monty? He said he’d try to make it to my fundraiser with his girlfriend.”
“Yeah, he’ll be in town. My mom said he insists on staying at a hotel. My parents haven’t met Katie yet, so I guess he doesn’t want to overwhelm her.”
“Your parents aren’t overwhelming.”
I smile. “Maybe he thinks you’re overwhelming.”
He nods. “That makes sense. I’ll tell Sanjay to cancel the hotel reservation.
” He says this as though he’s making a grand gesture, and I suppose it is pretty grand, considering.
“I have some conference calls set up while I’m there.
Hopefully, you won’t mind giving me some privacy occasionally when I have Zoom meetings.
I’ll try not to distract you when I’m working.
” He grins at me. I know that I’m the distraction.
And I know now that even when it seems like he isn’t paying attention to me, I’m still important to him.
We’re all good here.
For now, anyway.
We pose for pictures on the way into the museum, and I am surprised to hear photographers shouting John’s name, even though by now I shouldn’t be surprised by this.
I am his date because he’s an important celebrity entrepreneur among socialites and the wealthy elite of New York.
He smiles when he tells a PR person my name and that I’m a dancer with the Bay Area Ballet. He seems proud. It’s sweet.
Once we’re at the end of the red carpet, I hear photographers yell out, “Montana! Montana!” and see a thousand flashing camera bulbs out of the corner of my eye. Something tells me they aren’t all excited about the state.
I can sense John’s body tensing. He doesn’t look over, but I do, and all I can see is the frenzy around a very tall woman who’s with a well-groomed man that I recognize from magazines as a fashion designer, but I don’t know who he is exactly.
John leads me away, shaking hands with people, but he doesn’t stop until we’re at our dining table under a giant fiberglass blue whale that hangs from the ceiling of the Hall of Ocean Life.
The whole enormous room is bathed in blue light and flickering candles.
Fortunately, there are about a hundred round tables in this great space, and from what I can see, Montana is not seated anywhere near us.
Aside from the tense body and hasty retreat to the table, John shows no signs of nerves about encountering Montana.
But I’m kind of dying to see her. I don’t want drama, but I do want to get a sense of where things stand between them.
I really want to tell Callie that she’s here, but the rich old lady seated next to me seems like the kind of person who’d frown upon texting at a gala dinner.
As I scan the room while speeches are being given on the stage, I spot her.
Montana Reed. She is seated at a table across the room and to the right, but she’s facing us and staring.
Directly. At me. Glaring is more like it.
She doesn’t flinch when I make eye contact with her.
She may have been staring at us like this for a full hour, and I had no idea.
I glance over at John, who has politely given the speaker on stage his full attention, though he squeezes my hand to acknowledge me. I look back at Montana. She is truly stunning in a red dress, and I see her fashion designer date leaning in while she speaks into his ear, still glaring at me.
Once we get to the dessert course, people start getting up to mingle, and there is a parade of them coming over to chat with John.
He always introduces me, but no one wants to include me in the conversation, and I’m fine with that.
They have an agenda, and it doesn’t involve me.
I let John know that I’m going to the ladies’ room.
My plan is to stay away from the table for a while, to give Montana a chance to go over to talk to him. It’s very considerate of me.
I make sure she clocks me as I make my way out between the tables, dodging servers and dealmakers and, I think, one of the Hiltons.
When I open the door of the bathroom stall and go over to the sink to wash my hands, I look up and see Montana Reed staring at my reflection in the mirror.
Total jump scare. She is leaning back against the wall, her head cocked to one side, studying me.
She looks like Uma Thurman’s hotter, younger, crazier sister.
I dry my hands and turn to face her. Here we go.
“Who are you?” she asks.
“Hi. I’m Olivia. Nice to meet you.” I reach out to shake her hand, but she jerks away from me.
“How did you meet John?”
“Oh, I’ve known him my whole life. He’s my brother’s best friend.”
My words don’t seem to register as she shakes her head. “You aren’t right for him. At all.”
“Excuse me?”
“He’s Tony Stark.”
“Who?”
“Iron Man. He needs a Pepper Potts.”
“And you’re Pepper Potts?”
“I have the same personal trainer as Gwyneth Paltrow.”
I wait for more of an explanation, but that’s it.
I cannot believe Johnny dated this person. She’s stunningly gorgeous and mildly insane. I am seething with jealousy because I can’t stop imagining him doing those amazing things that he’s done to my body to hers.
That is when Montana and I lock eyes and begin a very dramatic wordless conversation:
Her: He did that crazy tongue stuff to you, didn’t he?
Me: Yes, and I want to pull my hair out because I can tell he’s done it to you too. But you’re a stunning supermodel! Surely you’ll meet someone great soon. You’ll get over John.
Her: No, I fucking won’t! Just wait—you’ll see. Sex with anyone else is boring, and I want to die. Also, I’m not a supermodel—I’m just a stunningly gorgeous, very successful model.
Me: I’m sorry.
Her: No, you aren’t. Fuck you.
Me: I am. I’m sorry. But I love him.
I can’t believe I just silently said that.
That’s when Montana lets out a small sob. Her eyes are damp, and she’s shaking. I reach out to hug her, but she swats me away. Two more women come into the restroom giggling and then go silent as they stare at us.
“Just go,” Montana says, her voice weak. “I can’t look at you.”
I nod and leave, even though this is a public restroom and I have every right to be here.
I do feel bad for her. But I also feel bad for myself because that was the first time I’ve admitted that I love John Brandt, and it was in a silent conversation with his crazy ex-girlfriend.
I don’t know how or if I’ll ever say it to him.
When I return to the table, John excuses himself from the gentleman he’s talking to and puts his hand on my thigh. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, fine. Do you need to give a speech or write a check or transfer some crypto or something?”
“I don’t invest in things I can’t model, Olivia. Crypto is far too speculative and volatile.”
Then why the hell did you invest your penis in that psycho model?! I want to scream.
“Do you want to go?”
“Do you want to go?” I ask. “Is there anyone else here that you should talk to? Anyone you feel obligated to catch up with? Anyone who might flip out if you don’t give them some of your valuable, undivided attention?”
John grins and leans in to press a kiss to my forehead. “Just you. Let’s go.”
He must have optimized Boyfriend Mode again. And so, we go.