Page 29 of Love and Other Champagne Problems

For a moment, I sat still while the staff member packed up the laptop with fumbling hands. “Tell me honestly,” I said to her, holding her still with my gaze. “Was there truly an internet issue?”

“Y-Yes, it wasn’t loading—and I—I don’t?—”

I held up my hand to cut her off as I pushed to my feet. All at once, the suit fit perfectly again, hanging from my body in a way that was comforting rather than constricting. I’d made the right decision yesterday, asking Jordan to alter it. I shouldn’t have second guessed myself. “Thank you for trying,” I said to her before leaving the room.

I walked down the country club’s hallway with no true destination in mind. Before, I’d wished Sumner had been present, and now I was glad he wasn’t. Later, though, I’d have to explain that the meeting fell apart before it could even happen, and I’d have to listen to his puppy-dog positivity. I didn’t want to be assured. I didn’t want platitudes. I wanted someone to saywow, he couldn’t even be bothered to take a phone call?

No one would say that about Aaron Astor, though, except Destelle. But if I called her, I’d also hear other words I didn’t want to.You shouldn’t marry him if you don’t want to.

I passed a few staff members in the country club who avoided eye contact, pretending to be busy with the cartsthey were pushing or the papers they held. No one looked at me as I meandered through the hall. Instead of heading back to my room, my feet carried me toward the wing that let out onto the tennis and pickleball courts. Alderton-Du Ponte had two of both, and they were often fully booked, even during the weekday. Today, a bright and sunny Sunday afternoon, made for no exception.

Even though I lived a stone’s throw from the property for the past four years, I’d never once played here. In fact, many of the club’s amenities had gone unused by me. Despite the membership fee being outrageously high, the occupancy of Alderton-Du Ponte never wavered, which meant the pools, the tennis courts, the gyms—they were all always full, and I avoided people like the plague.

Which was why it was annoying I’d unconsciously come here now.

A four-person team on the tennis court swapped out as their time was up, walking off as new wannabe athletes with tennis rackets stepped on. I didn’t look at them, keeping my gaze straight ahead, but for once, I was seen. “Margot!”

Though I recognized the voice, I debated not turning. Ultimately, though, my feet once again moved of their own accord, pivoting me to face the group of four approaching.

Ms. Jennings, Yvette Conan, Alice Fontaine—Destelle’s mother—and Yvette’s daughter, Grace, all dripped with sweat in their tennis outfits, rackets tucked underneath their arms.

Ms. Jennings was the one who’d called out to me. “You’ve come to play?” she asked, reachingup and swiping at the sweat on her forehead with the back of her hand. “You’re not quite dressed for it, dear.”

“Then it would seem I amnothere to play.” I kept my voice pleasant enough, which meant I kept it flat. “I feel like I need a shower just looking at you all.”

“Sweating is good for you, dear. You’ll regret it when your metabolism slows down.”

I eyed her. “Indeed.”

“What are you doing out here, then?” Alice asked, and she, unlike the others, was all right enough. She was a woman with just as much poise as my mother, an air that demanded respect, which made her stuffy. She complimented me on my suits sometimes, though, so there was some saving grace for her. “Enjoying some fresh air?”

“Mm,” I hummed with a slight nod, taking a step back. “If you’ll excuse me?—”

“Margot,” Ms. Jennings said before I could make a retreat, repositioning her racket case underneath her arm. She was trying to appease to my good side now, offering me a plastic smile and adding ooze to her words. “I heard you have a video call with Aaron Astor coming up. Is that true?”

Aaron was inescapable. I knew nothing about him, and yet everyone came to me looking for answers. They came for him, never for me. It was all I was good for, it seemed.

“Don’t act as if you didn’t hear the rumor from the source,” I told her with no affection. “I know you and my mother get tea on Wednesdays.”

“Well, we just wanted to talk toyouabout it,” Yvette piped in, annoyance quivering in her voice. “Your mothersaid it was happening today sometime. Surely you aren’t wearing that for it, right? Maybe Grace can go through your closet and help you pick out something more… feminine.”

I dropped my gaze to the youngest. Grace, at seventeen—or was she eighteen? I didn’t particularly care—looked too much like her mother in the way she stared at me. With animosity. Disdain. She’d been around the elders too long, their hostility for me already having rubbed off.

“A man doesn’t want a woman who looks like another man,” Yvette went on, flapping her hand. There was no diamond bracelet to show off this time, just her sweat coated arm. “And really, dear, youwanthim to desire you, don’t you? Men like cleavage, curves…” Her eyes not-so-subtly dropped to my vest. “Youdohave those, don’t you?”

Grace snickered as Alice smacked Yvette’s arm with a gasp. Ms. Jennings loosely swung her tennis racket as she soaked up the entertainment. I considered the situation, the dozens of eyes from the surrounding courts that’d paused their games to look in our direction. Calculated chaos—that was what I considered. What would be worth it, what would be too far.

Ultimately, I shrugged off my suit jacket and, even though it was sacrilegious, dropped it to the ground. “Is that your way of asking to see?”

Yvette’s bully of a smile faltered. “See—what, exactly?”

“My cleavage.” I began undoing the buttons on my vest. “My curves.”

Now hersmile vanished entirety. “I—absolutely not!”

Hers may have vanished, but a wicked curve took to my lips; I could feel it. “My breasts may not be as large—nor as sagging—as yours, but if you really want to compare, we can.” My vest fell open, revealing my white dress shirt underneath. I reached for the first button at my collar. Alice took a large step back while Yvette’s hand went to cover Grace’s eyes. “If mylack of femininityreally bothers you allso much?—”

Two large hands closed over mine as I got the first two buttons of my shirt undone, ceasing the stripping before it went past baring my collarbones. I looked up, half expecting to find security restricting me, but it was Sumner, who’d appeared out of nowhere.

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