Page 34 of Never Fake Date the Financier
Lillian hums. “Well, Gabs. I don’t want to whisk you away from your…” She neglects to mention me in any shape or form, opting instead to wave her drink at me. “I thought you could give us a tour of the inner workings of the yacht. I’ve heard you’ve spent so much time on boats that you’re practically a pirate.Yaaaar,” she adds, giving Ella a little bump and spilling her drink on her in the process.
I whip out my pocket square, but before I have the chance to offer it to Ella, Sariah swoops in alongside Lillian, apologizing profusely as they loop arms.
“We’ll get you cleaned up,” Sariah says before looking back at me. “Don’t worry. Gabriella is in good hands. We’ll have her back to you in no time.”
Well, we’re off to a great start again.
“I can be so clumsy sometimes,” Lillian gusts, champagne still sloshing from her glass as the three of them hobble away towards a restroom.
“We’ll grab crudités…” Sariah says, her voice swallowed by the rest of the party.
Ella turns back, mouthing “Snickerdoodle, Snickerdoodle, SNICKERDOODLE!” but before I have the chance to follow, the bridesmaid from earlier steps in my path.
“Adrian,” she coos, kissing me on either cheek. “You must tell me more about Snickerdoodle.”
I blink. Is she serious? It’s a pet cat. “What’s to say, really?”
I’m distracted, glancing over her shoulder as I try to follow Ella as she’s pulled along through the crowd of guests. There are more people here than I expected. My family must have had an open invitation to anyone they ever met in their lifetime. Grocery clerks. Uber drivers. The last person they ran into on the street. I thought rehearsal dinners were supposed to be small. It’s going to be tough to track Ella down once I finally disengage.
“Let’s see some pictures. Ella mentioned she’s a Maine Coon. They’re my favorite breed. Soooo fluffy!”
I need to get out of here.
I pat my pocket. “Unfortunately, I left my phone back in the room.”
“Oh,” she says, clearly disappointed.
But not as disappointed as I am, watching Ella disappear behind a wall. Shit.
“How’s she doing by the way?”
I must be in some Twilight Zone episode because there’s no way someone could possibly be this interested in cats.
“Fine?” I down my champagne and then grab another off a passing tray. I’ll need more than a few of these to get me through this conversation.
“Gabriella mentioned you have to order her special food from Switzerland.”
Okay, Ella.
“Yes, she has some… dietary restrictions.”
“Irritable bowel syndrome, right? She said the poor thing used to have the worst accidents before you found that special food. A whole cleaning crew almost every night.”
I choke on my last sip of champagne. Coughing. Sputtering. But the woman is still staring at me straight-faced, as though this is the most normal conversation in the world. No wonder Sariah and Co. abandoned her with me. “Right,” I mutter, struggling to find my voice. “It was a messy situation.”
“You must be so relieved you don’t have to clean that up anymore.”
“Not as relieved as Snickerdoodle.”
“And the medication for her anxiety? Is that helping with the, um…” she lowers her voice, “inappropriate urinating?”
Good to know she considers urine more uncouth than uncontrollable bowels. Jesus. Well played, Ella. I’m considering us even after this, so long as I can have another taste of her. “Life-changing,” I say, backing away slowly.
But it’s not working. She’s following me. Not taking the cue that I’d like to leave this conversation. Where’s Uncle Luther? Max? Anyone? Can I just dump some champagne on myself so I can be excused, too?
My back hits the railing, and for a brief moment, I consider a different end to this conversation and evening. Fortunately, Max intervenes.
“Mind if I steal my brother for a minute, Jessica?”
