Page 46 of The Unraveling

Finally, we’re alone. I put down my menu and hiss, “What the fuck is going on?”

He shuts his eyes impatiently. “I lied about my name.”

“Well, duh.”

“I never use my real name when I meet strangers,” he says. “I’m not the only Alistair in the city, but I am the only one in the social pages. It’s just best to keep the attention off of me.”

“I see.”

“I’ve given my real name before and seen it in the headlines the next day alongside a slew of lies. It’s just easier.”

“Got it.”

“I’m sorry about all this,” he says, formally.

“It’s fine. We didn’t know.”

There’s a long silence as a woman comes over and asks, “Sparkling or still?”

We both say, “Still,” then avoid eye contact.

She leaves, comes back, fills our glasses, and then leaves again.

“I apologize,” he says. “This sponsorship was supposed to be more for Clementine, not me. I haven’t been that involved in the ballet lately.”

He looks at me, and for the first time I see something less than steely wash over his irises.

“I hope she’s all right,” I say.

“I’m sure she’s fine. Just a busy woman. Hard to pin down.”

Our eyes latch for an unexpected moment, and I laugh nervously and then can’t think of anything to say.

“To be completely honest with you, I’m not sure why we’re bringing on another dancer, Ms.Banks. Clementine hardly has time for a dinner, much less a sponsorship.”

This is so awkward. Talking business with a man who wasn’t supposed to exist after the other night.

“Back in New York I barely even saw my donor. Honestly, I’m no trouble. I’m very good and—” I laugh again. “Sorry, I sound like a puppy hoping to be adopted.”

“Dad not around much when you were growing up?”

I feel like I missed a step. “Sorry?”

A server approaches the table, hands behind her back.

“Good evening, and welcome. Have we had a chance to look over the wine list?”

“Do you have a preference?” he asks me.

“Oh—anything.”

This isn’t quite true, but I assume he’s not going to order a box of Franzia, so I’m sure it’s fine.

“We’ll take a bottle of that Chablis, thank you, Mauritia.”

“Thank you, Mr.Cavendish.” She smiles gently and then walks off.

“As I was saying,” he goes on. “I am happy to buy you dinner so that you don’t feel as though you wasted your time, but I have to be up-front and tell you that we’re simply not in a position to be taking on any more sponsorships. You seem like a nice girl. I don’t want to try to fool you. I wish Clementine hadn’t agreed to this dinner at all, especially since she couldn’t come. It’s exactly the problem—she doesn’t have time for this right now. I’m sorry.”

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