Page 119 of The Liar's Reckoning

He grimaces, but I don’t hear an apology. Just a mumbledsee you lateras I leave their brownstone.

I guess it’s safe to say I haven’t completely forgiven Drew or Christian for how they reacted to the news I was seeing a married Republican senator. I only agreed to come to Brooklyn because I wasn’t able to attend Drew and Olivier’s recent wedding, but nothing comes before Graham. Ever.

Since Katia has yet to pay me this week, I’m forced to take the subway. In the last five months, I’ve blown through half my savings paying for better equipment at my mom’s and an around-the-clock caregiver. Decent ones cost a fortune. Almost more than I can afford, but thank God, not quite. Still, I can no longer afford to splurge on Lyfts, the good tequila, or takeout, but who knows? If Graham gets divorced, maybe he can dump that UES apartment and pay for half the groceries.

The bad feeling I have lingers on the ride into Manhattan, but maybe this divorce is a good thing. I’m under no delusion that Graham will come out of the closet to be with me, but living with him full-time? I could definitely get excited about that. He’s out of town so often that when he’s here, my possessiveness tends to make me bitchy. I’m jealous of his time because while she might be his wife—I’m his partner. Sue me if I want to live with the guy for real.

I’m still so crazy in love with him. It gets worse daily. I dream of the day he’s out of the senate, and we can settle down somewhere—a time when I’ll have him all to myself. I can see us having kids. I can even see us with grandkids. Am I getting ahead of myself? Sure. But maybe that’s what happens when you find the person you want to spend the rest of your life with.

Could it be starting?

I’m cautiously optimistic by the time I unlock the apartment door and go inside. I find him in the bedroom, kicked back in his sweatpants and t-shirt, barefoot like he’s already moved in. He’s got his phone in his hands and looks surprised to see me.

“Expecting someone else?” I ask.

“I didn’t hear you come in.”

I toss my phone onto the other side of the mattress and slide onto the bed beside him. “Okay, I’m here. I’m listening.”

“I came out to make my coffee, she was waiting. Before I could even pop the pod in, she said she wanted a divorce.”

“What’d you say?”

“I said ‘Why?’ And then she brought up this place.”

“Did she say how she found out about it?”

“My mom. They talk too much. But here’s what’s bugging me. She kept bringing up Marianne.”

“Remind me who Marianne is.”

“Marianne Hayes. Gibson Hayes’s wife.”

“Oh…I hadnotput that together.”

“Do you know them?” he asks.

“No, but Chris still works for Gibson. At Gramercy.”

“Gramercy?Really?”

I grin. “I take it you know about the club.” The Penthouse is an uber exclusive sex club on the top floor of the Gramercy apartment building, right there on Park Avenue. I know about it because Katia helps keep it staffed, and once upon a time, there was an offer on the table for me to put in some time there, too.

But I’m notthat kindof sex worker. I don’t do public scenes.

“I used to think it was an urban legend,” Graham says.

“It’s not,” I assure him.

“No, I know.”

I frown. “Have you been?”

“Jesus.No. Marianne’s mentioned it. Fucking Avery’s probably been there, though.”

“Are we mad at Avery?”

“We don’t know what’s going on with Avery. But that Marianne bitch…I just feel like—I don’t know.” He rubs his face. “I don’t trust her. She seems kind of obsessed with Avery.”

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