Page 101 of Lovers Like Us
Jane sends me a quick glance likeI’ll take over if you needme.
In the past year, that question would’ve put my thoughts in a grinder. But I’m not pummeled backwardsanymore.
“I love them both,” I say, my tone easygoing. “At the risk of soundingcliché, I wouldn’t be who I am without my dadandmyuncle.”
I’m aware that there are hundreds of phone-cameras filming me, and I can almost feelmy dad back in Philly smiling. Happy that I’m finally embracing the truthpublicly.
“My dad is amazing, loving, funny and protective,” I tell the audience, “and I got to love a dad who was sober because he has a brother who’s kind, compassionate, strong and unfaltering. I honestly can’t imagine not having either ofthem.”
I hear people sniffling, and I catch several brushing their wateryeyes.
“I LOVE LOREN HALE!” someoneshouts.
Jane speaks in her mic. “We love him terribly too.” Her blue eyes smile at me likewell done, oldchap.
The next few questions are tame. Sulli talks briefly about the Olympics, we all banter back-and-forth about late-night sleepovers at the Meadows tree house, and Beckett tells the audience his favorite ballet:Giselle.
A twenty-something slender guy grips the microphone. “Charlie,” he says. “Are you datinganyone?”
Charlie lazily lifts his mic. “No.” He drops his arm. That’sit.
I bite my tongue, wanting to tell him he could at least try harder tocare.
After about ten more innocent questions about our childhood, Jane is asked about her career. “I’m happy to be the CFO of H.M.C.Philanthropies.”
I wait for her to addfor now.But she neverdoes.
She has a whole semester of online courses before she graduates Princeton. One semester to figure out her future, but I’m not going to let her giveup.
I’m still thinking about Janie when I miss the next question. Unfortunately, a college-aged girl directed it atme.Hundreds of eyes land in mydirection.
I sense the awkward deadair.
Greaaaat.
Charlie puts the microphone to his mouth. “Daydreaming runs in hisfamily.”
I turn on him, eyes hot. He didn’t just say that to thepublic.“What is that supposed to mean?” Iask.
My mom discussed all the times she got lost in her head onWe Are Calloway. Fantasizing about sex. He knowsthis.
And if Charlie isimplying—
“Luna has a vivid imagination. She’s been daydreaming about aliens and other planets since she was little,” Charlie says innocently, as though he never intended anything else. “Why? What did you think Imeant?”
More phones are elevated. Recording. Pointed like pistols, but nothing can hurt me. Not online. Not in the tabloids. After what I went through with Jane, I’m fuckingbulletproof.
Charlie stares flatly, but behind his eyes all I see iscome atme.
So Ido.
“At least being an egotistical asshole doesn’t run in my family,” I say, and as soon as the hot-tempered words leave my lips, I regretthem.
Low whispers escalate like a rumblingstorm.
“I think that one skipped over me and landed on you, actually.” Charlie flingsback.
Jesus Christ. I scan the ballroom quickly, and I find Farrow in the back. Leaning against the closed conference room double-doors. Arms loosely crossed. Aviators oninside.
