“Is that why he invited me to this fancy thing?” She keeps her eyes focused on him as he shakes hands with guests but never stops heading our way. “Plus”—she finally moves her attention to me—“I saw some bosses look at their employees back in the day, but I think that’d get him sued these days.”

I open my mouth to tell her all of the mortifying details of our first meeting, when he put it in no uncertain terms that he was not interested, but he beats me to her.

“Mrs. Rafter!” He pulls her into his arms, wrapping her in a giant hug. “I’m so glad you made it.”

“Thank you for inviting me. The ladies in my knitting group were spitting nails, they were so jealous.” She looks up at him, not letting him go. “But I told them my granddaughter planned it, so her boyfriend was obligated to invite me!”

My face goes cold. Which is I guess what happens when all the blood drains from it.

The last thing I need is Quinton thinking I’m going around telling people he’s my boyfriend. This is like that nightmare when you’re naked in front of everyone.

Except worse.

And real.

I’m staring at Mrs. Rafter with eyes so wide that it hurts and shaking my head no, hoping she’ll catch what I’m throwing. But instead, she just looks at me and waves me off.

“Oh, stop it, dear,” she says to me before patting Quinton’s arm. “You’re beautiful and talented, he’s a smart man. He knows what a catch you are. He’s lucky to have you.”

“Oh my god,” I groan, wishing I could hide behind my hands, but knowing I have on way too much makeup for that. “I’m so sorry,” I mouth to Quinton, who looks way too entertained by all of this.

Or you know what? Maybe I’m not sorry. Quinton could at least have enough grace to look like he’s not enjoying this so much. But instead his smile grows with every word out of Mrs. Rafter’s mouth and his body is shaking with pent-up laughter. The jerk.

“You’re lucky to have Elliot? I thought she fuckin’ hated you!” Donny moves in between us and stands by Quinton. Supporting my hypothesis that whenever I think things can’t get any worse, they actually can.

I close my eyes and throw my head back. “Somebody kill me now.”

“Of course he’s lucky to have her, just look at her!” Mrs. Rafter gestures at me like I’m a prize on The Price is Right, before motioning to the rest of the room. “Look at what she did here. She’s a catch, this one—I’ve known it her whole life.”