“I don’t even remember. Do you?” Elyse asks Eric. “Was it Sharon?”
“I think so,” Eric says. “We have some friends who are obsessed with the latest social media and they’re always unearthing these amazing sites. How’d you get started with that, Finn?”
It’s making me nervous that I can’t see Finn. It could be my imagination—it must be—but I think tension is rolling off his body. “It just kind of happened,” he says.
“And how involved is the model, really?” he asks. “She can’t really be that hot and articulate.”
Elyse reaches across me to slap Eric’s arm. “Hey.”
“I just know what a rare combo it is,” he backtracks, “since I’m lucky enough to have found it in you. Clearly.”
I want to squeal. Kick up my feet. Invite the whole dinner table into our conversation. He’s talking about me. Me. I’m sitting right in front of them, and they have no idea.
“She’s very involved,” Finn says. “All the writing is hers.”
“Can you give us a hint?” Eric asks. “Is she famous?”
I swipe my clammy palms down the front of my dress, then pick up my wine glass. I can’t not speak up. This is a sign—I was right earlier. It’s time for me to come out. I stop trying to suppress my smile. “It’s me,” I blurt. “I’m her.”
Both pairs of eyes turn to me. Probably Finn’s as well. “Halston,” he says under his breath. His hands return to the top of my chair, but I don’t look up. I don’t care if he’s mad. This is my moment. My heart might be racing a mile a minute, the inside of my elbow might be burning, but it’s liberating to say the words to someone other than Finn.
“I’m Anonymous,” I say.
“No shit?” Eric asks with an open-mouthed laugh. “Seriously? Anonymous is coming to our wedding?”
“Well, no,” I say. “I wasn’t planning—”
“You have to come,” Elyse says. “My girlfriends will die. They’re huge fans of you guys.”
“As are my friends,” Eric adds with a snicker, then seems to remember Finn is there. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—are you two a couple?”
“They’ll go ape shit, my friends,” Elyse continues, ignoring her fiancé. “They’ll probably want your autograph. Unless—oh, shit. We can’t tell them who you are, can we?”
Finally, I turn in my chair to check with Finn. He doesn’t look happy. “Unfortunately, no,” he says. “And Halston actually can’t make it tomorrow night.”
My excitement falls. After all the ways I’ve supported him, and even all the ways he’s encouraged me, he’s taking this away from me. I turn back to a crestfallen Elyse. “I think I can get out of my plans,” I say. “What would it hurt for a few people to know?”
“Halston,” Finn says through his teeth. “I need to get some shots of the décor in the front room. Can you help me set them up?”
“She’s really your assistant?” Eric asks.
“I admire your willpower,” Elyse says. “If I were Instagram famous, I’d be blasting that shit everywhere.”
My body thrills from fingertips to toes. Famous. Us. Are we? I hadn’t even considered we might be, but then again, we’re going to hit a hundred-thousand followers tomorrow. Last I checked, we were only five hundred away. I’ve been keeping the sexiest photo we have as our ace in the hole. My pink lips, wrapped around Ken’s thumb while his other hand fists my hair. Once I post it, I know we’ll hit our goal. We have to.
“Hals? Need your help.” Finn puts a hand on my shoulder. “And yes, we’re together. She’s my girlfriend.”
It takes me a second to realize he’s talking to Eric.
“Oh.” Eric nods. “I figured.”
Elyse claps her hands in the following silence. “Go get your shot, then we’ll do dessert. The bakery made us something special for tonight, so I want to get a few pictures of it.”
“Of course,” Finn says. “We’ll only be a minute.”
Finn helps me scoot out from under the table. I pick up his camera bag, putting it over my shoulder. He waits for me to walk through the glass doors of the dining room and into the restaurant’s dim entryway. Tiny tea lights illuminate the area, and Eric and Elyse’s guestbook sits open on a pedestal. Other than that, I don’t see much decoration.
“What was that?” Finn asks.
“I know. Incredible, right?” It isn’t what he means, but he has to be excited about this too. Just a little. We’ve worked hard to get here. I should be able to enjoy our success with him, not from the shadows.
“We decided revealing your identity wasn’t a good idea.”
I turn my back to the floor-to-ceiling glass looking into the dining room. I don’t want to be watching a bunch of happy people while we argue. “You decided that. It’s only two people.”
“And their friends who’ll be there tomorrow night. You know Elyse is going to tell—that isn’t the point. You did something I asked you not to.”
My throat closes. That sounds familiar. Too familiar. My fingertips tingle, like they’re trying to warn me. Since when does Finn order me around? Have I made the same mistake with him as I did two years ago with Rich? Do I subconsciously choose my father on purpose? “I’ve done everything else you’ve asked,” I say. “You wanted my words, I gave them to you. You told me to stay anonymous, I agreed. You wanted me, I broke up with my boyfriend.”
Finn’s eyebrows shoot to the middle of his forehead. The shadows on his face make him look angrier than is—or at least, I hope so. “I don’t even know where to start with that. How did I tell you to stay anonymous?”
“You suggested I keep my identity hidden.”
“Only because you wouldn’t let me use your journal otherwise.”
My last few gulps of wine are kicking in. I don’t remember the specifics of that conversation right now, but I do know I never would’ve gone down this path if not for him. And now he’s acting as though I’m just some model like Eric thought I was. It dawns on me that maybe Finn wants me be to that. “Do you not want people knowing who I am?” I ask.
“We’ve covered this.” He glances over my head. “People are looking over. We’re making a scene.”
I reel back, crossing my arms. “Is it because I’ll get the credit I deserve?”
Finn’s nostrils flare. “Are you seriously suggesting, after months of trying to get you to see your worth, that I don’t want you to succeed?”
That’s one explanation, but another possibility hits me right in the chest. What if Finn’s coaching hasn’t been entirely innocent? Maybe he recognized early on that he needed me for this business to work. If I come out, he’ll be the one in the shadows, or at least forced to share the spotlight.
Oh God.
I need something, and I need it right now. Anything. Coffee, cigarettes, wine, I don’t care. This edge is too sharp for me to balance on without something to dull it.
“This isn’t the time for this conversation,” Finn says. “But you bet your ass we’ll pick it up as soon as we get home.”
“Fine.” I start to turn. “I’ll be outside.”
“No. It’s cold, and I’m afraid you’ll take off. Stay and be mad, but don’t go without talking to me first.” He squints at me. “And maybe take it easy on the wine, all right? You know I don’t care if you drink, but we are working.”
He goes back inside. That’s such a Dad move—tell me what not to do, then walk away before I can argue my point. Is it me? Do I bring out that side of men, turn them into domineering assholes? That’s what Dad and Rich and Doctor Lumby have been telling me all along, isn’t it? That I need to be on meds for myself and the people who love me?
I’m not even allowed to go outside by myself for fuck’s sake. I should leave. It’d serve him right. But that afternoon I ran away from the museum, nothi
ng felt right. I walked for hours, sick over how I’d thrown a tantrum and run away. I needed that alone time, like I do now, but I didn’t handle it right.
Taking a lungful of air, I go back into the restaurant. Elyse leads Finn to the kitchen, presumably to photograph a pastry. He glances over his shoulder, and we meet eyes right before he passes through the swinging aluminum doors. I’m glad, because I don’t want him to see how I’m unraveling. I head straight for the restaurant’s bar. Fortunately, it’s off to the side, somewhat separated from the main dining area.
The bartender tosses a coaster in front of me. “What can I get you?”
“Anything. I was drinking Pinto Noir over there.”
“You with the wedding party?” he asks, getting a wineglass from the back of the bar.
“Sort of. Photographer’s assistant.” In a way, that’s what I am. “Any chance you have a cigarette? I’ll pay you for it.”
He laughs. “You must be desperate. I’ll get you one.”
I drink my wine. My mind buzzes from our argument. Finn knew me before he even met me. How many couples can say that? Did we move too fast, thinking we were invincible because we were meant to be? It was exciting, exhilarating—fucking and sharing feelings day in and day out while I led a double life. At work, I was a version of myself, but to Finn, I was just me.
I wonder—who said it was even a good thing to be your true self? To have no boundaries with or secrets from the person you love? Isn’t that dangerous? I thought diving in headfirst was romantic. Thrilling. Looking back, I should’ve been more wary of the red flag, like when Finn threatened to delete the account if I didn’t stop going through the messages and comments. And he was so insistent Ken sign a non-disclosure. I thought he was protecting me, but what if he’s been monitoring what I see and who sees me?
That’s not all.
Even after a few months together, he continues to pretend Marissa doesn’t exist in our relationship. I barely know a thing about her. And, he has access to my finances, but I know nothing about his other than what he’s told me. He didn’t trust me about the birth control until three months into our relationship.