Eliana and I continue to stubbornly ignore the concept of a future. We grab ass and kiss in shadowy corners and cook together damn near every night. It’s a farce, but goddammit, it’s a beautiful one.
So no, in many senses, I’m not okay at all.
But what comes out is, “Yeah. I think I am.”
Zeke nods and punches me in the shoulder. “Good. That’s what I like to hear. Speaking of which, you nail down your plus-one for the gala yet?”
My hand tightens around my beer bottle. “A what for the what?”
“Oh, do you not remember?” he drawls sarcastically. “You’re investing three billion dollars in the biggest development in the city of Chicago this century. There’s a little kickoff party. May 14th. Black tie, champagne fountains, the whole nine yards. Maybe your invite got lost in the mail?”
I slug
