Asher’s face pales. Sleigh rides must make him feel faint too. Probably for very different reasons.

“I’m so excited,” I say, clutching Asher’s arm. My eyes twinkle up at him adoringly. “I’ve never been to East Hampton. Or any Hampton, for that matter.”

“You’re gonna love it,” Francesca says.

It’s all I can think about for the rest of the party. I’ve long forgotten about my busted lip and busty shirt. I’m sleigh-riding through fake snow in East Hampton while carolers serenade me with Mariah Carey classics. I’m sipping gourmet hot chocolate with fancy industry people at an estate.

I need to go shopping.

“Have you seen Asher’s new girlfriend?”

I’m looking for the bathroom when I overhear two girls that I don’t know talking in the kitchen. About me, apparently.

“I can’t believe Frankie invited them,” one says.

“Why wouldn’t she?” the other scoffs. “There’s no bigger ‘fuck you’ than looking better than your ex’s new bed-warmer. She wants him to see what he’s missing.”

“Didn’t she break up with him?”

“Yeah, because he was miserable. If I were her, I’d be doing the same thing. Show him what he could have had.”

Someone hums. “He does look happy. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile before.”

“Because he has some naive little plaything with pouty lips, big boobs, and no brains that he’s nailing on the regular.”

“Have you seen how clingy she is?”

“Yeah, she must be young.”

They laugh into their champagne flutes.

“She’s definitely, like, twenty-one.”

“Fresh off that internship,” one scoffs.

“Asher’s not that stupid.”

“Please,” the other says. “Do you know who his father is? I wouldn’t be surprised if River screwed her first.”

They’re quiet for a moment.

“Can you imagine having a six-figure job handed to you and still be so fucking wretched and ungrateful all the time?”

“It must be so tiring,” one says. “I almost feel bad for the girl. I hope she’s not banking on him falling in love.”

“She’s in for a rude awakening.”

“That’s for sure.”

I never find the bathroom, but I do find Asher standing by the window in the living room. He’s alone. In every sense of the word. And maybe even a little lost. I watch his eyes fall on Francesca, who is planted on Brent’s lap and giggling something soft into his ear, as she nuzzles against him. Asher shifts his eyes back to the Brooklyn skyline and raises his glass to his lips, gulping down something strong to numb whatever it is that he let himself feel for that short moment.