“Where’s Paul?” Guy asked unceremoniously as he brought up the rear of the group, his terry cloth polo looking soft and perfect in the sun.

“He ran inside for a minute,” Danial answered, clearing his throat and looking over at them with a lightly frustrated expression on his face. “Are you hungry? We’re having monkfish.”

Alex’s eyes lingered on him, heavy with the remnants of their exchange. She could feel the conflicting emotion churning within her, her petulance ceding to something much more complicated. Her breath was shallow in her chest, and when she noticed that her hands were trembling slightly, she set them flat on the table. As the group chattered around her, her mind was already in her cabin, composing another email to Clara.

It would take more than one pleasant conversation to convince her that she and Danial could overcome the past, but their lunch had accomplished something: it confirmed that the intense energy between them was not some one-sided delusion of hers. It was very real. And for that reason alone, she would take one final pass of the video her team was about to release on Horace Capital Partners. It would set them back a few days, she knew, but she needed to remove the scathing section about Danial’s former partnership with Santander—the section she’d hastily added after their fight at breakfast.

She didn’t know if she could forgive him, let alone trust him, but she could spare him the worst of her wrath.

13. Morningside Heights, USA

13

MORNINGSIDE HEIGHTS, USA

Before

It was something of a tradition for the girls to get ready together before a big night out, even if Alex was clearly the third wheel. Sophie and Bee always hosted: they shared a sprawling two-bedroom apartment on Central Park West that put them within walking distance of the best off-campus parties. They also had a huge bathroom with double sinks and mirrors—much more appropriate for a multi-person beauty session than Alex’s studio in Hamilton Heights.

Tonight was the usual fare in almost every way: a painstakingly curated playlist from Sophie, a bottle of medium-fancy rosé, some breathless gossip about who was attending the party and what was likely to happen there. But this particular night had an added air of tenderness: it was the last big party of their college careers, the last time they’d all be together this way. Sophie was off to grad school in Paris, Bee was following Dev to Mumbai, and neither had plans to visit New York for the foreseeable future. Alex would miss them, of course, but she also looked forward to no longer feeling like she had to impress them. So much of her daily routine—even the fancy Sephora makeup she was currently using, because Bee had once asked her if she knew what they put in “that drug store garbage”—was curated to impress these girls.