Page 24 of Gloves Off

“Isn’t that his ex-wife?”someone would whisper.

“Great choice on the dress,” I tell Darcy. She’s wearing a floral sixties-style A-line I found on a consignment site the other week and sent the link to her. “I told you you’d have somewhere to wear it.”

When we met last year, Darcy was fresh out of a long-term relationship, stuck in a boring, soul-sucking job, dressing in a way she hated, living alifeshe hated. It took a bit of peer pressure from me but I’ve converted Darcy to wearing clothes she loves, that make her feel beautiful.

“Wait.” Her gaze snags on my left hand before she grabs it, ogling the plain, thin band. Nothing sparkly like what she has, but on this finger, the meaning is crystal clear. “What’s this?”

“Oh, that?” God, I really didn’t want her to find outnow,duringherengagement party. The timing is terrible.

“Yes,this.” She wears a funny, curious smile.

I’m surprised she hasn’t seen the photos yet. “I got married.”

“Married?”

She looks like I slapped her. Of course she does.I will never get married,I’ve told her. I’ve told everyone that.

And I still won’t. Not for real.

“To who? When?Why?I didn’t even know you were seeing someone.”

I didn’t realize how hard this part would be—lying to my friend. I like Darcy. I respect Darcy. She’s smart and funny and wonderful.

“Volkov.”

Her sea-green eyes go wide as saucers. “I have a million questions.”

Just like with my parents, I want to tell her the truth, but I don’t want her complicit in anything. “It’s your engagement party. We don’t want to steal your thunder.”

She makes a face, waving me off. “You know I don’t care about that. We should celebrate.”

“No,” I say too quickly, with a desperate edge, and she gives me a strange look. “I mean,” I clear my throat, laughing a little, “I’m still wrapping my head around it.”

Not a lie, technically.

She studies me before she nods, smiling softly. “Okay. I understand.”

The guilt doesn’t go away, though. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

Darcy is the kindest, loveliest person on the planet, and I am a bag of trash for lying to her. I’m worse than fashion designers who destroy unsold items instead of putting them on sale.

“I did always wonder if you guys were going to,” she lowers her voice to a whisper,“hate fuck.”

My face burns hot. “Darcy.”

She starts laughing. “What? You two have all that sexual tension.”

This again? My parents announcing that they “knew it” plays in my head, and my hackles rise.

“I can’t believe you got married,” Darcy says to herself just as Hazel Hartley walks by.

“Wait.” Hazel stops in her tracks and grabs my arm before lifting it to look at my hand. “Married?”

“Married?”Her sister, Pippa, a singer-songwriter, married to Storm goalie Jamie Streicher, pops up out of nowhere.

“Married?” I hear Hayden say on the other side of the bar.

“You got married,” Rory Miller repeats loudly like he can’t believe it, while Volkov stands there, looking irritated.

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