“Why do we have to go to a barbecue at the Abrams to wear ‘normal’ clothing? Don’t you just want to be normal all the time?”
Aperol Spritz dripped onto his chassan watch.
Okay, it wasn’t his original chassan watch, that was a very sweet Mercier, and he’s kept it for sentimental purposes, but this Cartier was his reward for getting Daddy the Luxe Tower contract. Sticky alcohol was no way to treat a Cartier and spitting your drink across the room maybe wasn’t the classiest behavior for Cookout, but Akiva had not seen that text message coming.
“Baruch and Chaykie just invited us to a barbecue tomorrow night at their home,” he said to Libby through gritted teeth. “Do you think I’m the main course?”
Libby gave him a look. “Good thing we’re not self-centered or anything.”
He unbuttoned his collar, rotated his neck. “Libby, it’s too awkward, we can’t go over there. I just snatched away the promotion he’s been working toward.”
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