Page 119 of I Think They Love You

“Oh, no. I don’t want this.”

Bray’s lips quirk in bemusement. “Then what?”

Denz’s face wrinkles. “It’s notexactlywhat I want. I don’t know. It’s complicated.” He sips his martini. “It’s New Year’s Eve. Don’t make me think tonight.”

There’s something unreadable in the corner of Bray’s eyes. He doesn’t press. But Denz can see the questions forming.

“Besides…” Denz licks sugar from the rim of his glass. “My dad loves his company.”

“It’s his fourth child,” Nic confirms.

“He’ll never retire.”

“Nope. But I’m quitting,” Kami says, appearing from nowhere in a floral embroidered Zac Posen minidress. She swipes the last glass from Denz’s tray—a white wine. She’s halfway through before adding, “Dad’s so stubborn. This band is awful. And I hate these shoes.”

Nic points to her own feet. A pair of leather Superstars. “Always come prepared.”

Kami flips her off. “I don’t want to be an event manager anymore,” she complains. “Eric can have it.”

Somewhere below, Eric Tran is following their dad, checklist in hand, sweating through his suit.

“You’re doing fine,” Denz tells her.

“I’m serious. I’m quitting.” Kami whips out her phone. “Emailing my resignation now.”

Denz plucks the phone away. “No, you’re not.”

“Don’t make me hurt you.”

Denz edges away. He doesn’t think his sister will punch him. He just wants to make sure she doesn’t toss the rest of her wine on his velvet dinner jacket, is all. “Kam,” he says calmly, “you’re not quitting. This company will collapse without you. You’re too good. One day, you’re gonna throw a party a million fucking times better than this. It’s one night. Chill.”

Kami inhales deeply, the tension leaving her jaw.

Bray steps forward. “You know what you need?”

“More wine?”

“Stronger booze?” Denz offers.

“An edible, a new family and career, a decent man—”

“A dance,” Bray says, cutting Nic off. He extends a hand to Kami, beaming. “C’mon.”

“Bray, you dance?”

“A little,” Bray replies as Denz barks out, “Hell no!”

Ignoring him, Bray loops an arm with Kami. He escorts her toward the elevator, winking at Denz over his shoulder.

“Okay,” Denz says in one long breath. “That’s happening.”

“Don’t be jealous,” Nic tells him.

“I’m not,” he snaps.

He’s not. A minute later, he’s not leaning over the half wall, glaring down at the crowd. The band covers an old Justin Timberlake song, “SexyBack.” Kami’s head is tipped back, cackling. And there’s Bray, buzz cut and ill-fitting suit,twerkinglike a hamster on MDMA.

“What the f—”

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