“Why don’t they have these kinds of waitresses in London?” Tristan asked, glancing around at the women in white bikinis and nearly see-through cover-ups who were distributing cocktails to the patrons at the rooftop bar. It was a little weird for a five-star New York hotel, but it was hot as hell and this was America, so I wasn’t about to complain. “Alcohol tastes better when served by a woman in a bikini.”
“You’re a sexist dick at times, Tristan,” I said, kicking at his chair under the table.
“We’re in a hotel bar. Not a strip club. Don’t be a twat,” Joshua said. “Keep your eyes on New York.” The city stretched out all around us. Three hundred and sixty degrees of Manhattan. From up here we could see everything from the Chrysler building to the Brooklyn Bridge.
Dexter just shook his head. “I can’t wait for you to fall hook, line, and sinker for a girl. You’ll realize what an idiot you’ve been.”
“There’s no way I’m settling down,” Tristan replied.
“You will fall at the feet of the first woman who falls in love with you,” Joshua said. “All your chat is just that. Chat.”
“Whatever you say,” Tristan replied. “At least I actually get laid. Unlike you.”
“I have sex plenty,” Joshua replied. “But I’m not a fifteen-year-old boy so I don’t have to tell everyone about it.”
“How’s Bethany,” Dexter asked, clearly wanting to change the subject.
“I spoke to her just before I came up. She’s good. Excited that Penelope’s staying over.”
“Oh wow,” Beck said. “Penelope is looking after her?”
“The nanny’s there as well. But yeah, it’s good for the two of them to have some time together.”
“Sounds like things are still going well,” Beck said.
I blew out a breath. “So far, so good.” In many ways it would be easier if we could slip into our life before she left. Especially now when we knew each other and ourselves in a much deeper way than we had done before.
“She still want you back?” Beck asked.
I shrugged, swirling the whiskey in my glass. Penelope hadn’t said anything more since we’d had dinner together. She’d been seeing more of Bethany, but she hadn’t suggested dinner again and neither had I. “I don’t think so.”
“And you’re not interested?”
I shook my head. “She wasn’t the woman I thought I married. I’m not saying that to criticize her. It’s more a reflection of me having an image in my head of what I wanted and trying to mold everything to fit. That image is gone. And Penelope and I are Bethany’s parents, but we’re not ever going to be husband and wife again.”
“You sound okay about it,” Andrew said.
“I am. But . . .” I wasn’t a man who asked for help or advice. Tonight, I needed both. “I do have other things on my mind.”
“You need to leave your job.”
“Oh, I did that already. Just before I left for the airport.”
Dexter beckoned one of the waitresses over. “A magnum of your best champagne, please.”
“We have a double celebration on our hands,” Beck said.
I winced. Dexter might cancel the champagne if he knew what I was about to say next. “I’m also in love with Autumn.” I glanced at Dexter. “Sorry, mate.”
“Yeah, I had a feeling,” he replied. “You spoken to her?”
“Not since she left. She made me promise to give things a go with Penelope. But it’s not my wife I want. It’s Autumn. I never thought I could ever see myself trusting a woman, trusting myself to be with a woman again. Not like I had with Penelope. But I love Autumn. I trust her. I want to build a life with her.”
“You can’t help who you love,” Beck said.
“You okay with this?” I asked, looking at Dexter.
“I’m with Beck on this. I can’t speak for my future wife, but we’ll win her round. She’s very fond of you.”
“Thanks, Dexter,” I replied. “I appreciate it. I’ve got to focus on winning Autumn over first. I need something . . . big. To show her that I’m serious. She might have given up and moved on—it’s been weeks, and she was determined I should get back together with Penelope—but I’ll do what I need to do to get her back.”
“Right,” said Tristan. “The best brains in London are around this table. We can figure something out.”
“A coven emergency, as Stella would describe it,” Beck said.
“Stella thinks we’re witches?”
He shrugged. “She’s just jealous.”
“But she comes to most of our drinks nights,” Andrew said.
“I know,” said Beck. “But she’s not here tonight, so she’s jealous.”
“You should tell her that we’d prefer her company to yours any day,” Joshua said.
“I’ll make sure I pass the message on. And while we’re passing messages on, get your fucking hair cut. You look like a student.”
“I’m busy, and what can I say, Miss Tuesday Night likes something to run her fingers through.”