Page 49 of David's Love

“They could be anyone.”

“I’m afraid you’re right. And I suggest we drink to that.”

We pick up a couple of fruity drinks and blend in.

The party is fantastic. The kids are adorable, the food is excellent, and we only exchange a few words with Rain and Thea. We get to see Vivian, Leia, and James.

Later, we spend some time in the backyard.

Chloe excuses herself and looks for a bathroom while I roam around, admiring the property. My fingers itch to snap a photo of myself and send it to David.

I do just that after finding a nice corner on the patio, where I lean against the handrail, lift my arm to take a selfie, and also capture the scenic view behind me.

Furtively, I check my pictures and send them to him.

Still astonished by the view––it never gets old––I study the house with my phone still clutched in my hand.

The gadget vibrates instantaneously.

David: I want you to take that costume off for me tonight.

Laughing, I type a reply, promising him just that, when a soft rustling wafts from nearby, and a man holding a glass of wine approaches me.

He wears a superb mask, yet even so, it’s hardnotto recognize James Sexton.

His confidence and athletic frame are unique. I take the glass from him, noticing that he has his own drink.

I can’t say I’m not intimidated by his presence.

He must be here for a reason.

“Elizabeth, right?” he says as if my costume has stood a chance to make me unrecognizable.

“Yes.”

He leans against the balustrade and tips his chin to the house.

“How do you like the party?”

“It’s amazing,” I say quickly before taking a sip of wine to hide my nerves.

Swallowing, I look at the open doors, hoping to see Chloe walk this way. I don’t know why he makes me so nervous.

I think he makes everybody nervous.

‘That, and you’re also a liar and banging his business partner,’the voice inside my head reminds me.

‘Not now,’I dismiss her.

A few seconds pass, and I don’t think I have a pulse as he takes a drink of his scotch.

“My wife told me you were writing a book. Are you still doing that?” he asks, and my heart stops.

I hold his gaze for what feels like a century.

James Sexton is now fishing for information?

If he wanted a reaction, he surely got it. Although I can’t read anything on his face.

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