Katherine reached for my hand and veered me away from the boys. “Here’s your pass.”
In awe, I took the lanyard VIP pass from her hand. I’d hardly been to any concerts, growing up. And in college, Amy had dated the bouncer at one of the venues, so we usually just snuck into crappy shows. First row tickets to Chloe Avana at Madison Square Garden had to have cost a fortune.
“I don’t know how I’ll be able to pay you back,” I told her.
“Oh, don’t be gauche. It’s a gift. No repayment needed. It’s the least I can do, considering how bad I felt after the gala.”
I was still not certain about Katherine. I liked her. I liked being around her and being in her circle of friends. But she seemed like the kind of person whose bad side you never, ever wanted to be on. That having her as a friend was a sincere privilege, and if you ever lost her favor, you would be better left to the dogs.
Her kindness made me uncomfortable. Especially because I knew there was no way that I could repay her. And I thought she liked that.
“I really didn’t mean project like that,” Katherine said carefully as we scanned our passes. The guys filed in after us. “I was just dealing with Camden. You can understand.”
“He’s awful.”
“The worst,” she agreed.
“Why are you marrying him?”
Katherine shrugged her petite shoulders and waved at a girl who was staring at her with round eyes. “It’s a society thing.”
“I couldn’t imagine not marrying for love.”
“Happens all the time,” she said, fluttering her fingers at a group of girls in a corner. “And anyway, it’s not like love matches have a perfect success rate. Love equals divorce a lot.”
“True,” I conceded. “My parents are still together.”
“What a miracle. I suppose you could say that mine are too.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Right through here.”
We moved into the arena and to our seats, which were nearly dead center in the very first row. I could practically reach out and touch the stage, which was lit up before me.
“These seats are amazing,” I groaned in amazement.
“Totally. And I have six of them. But Lark had to work, and Rowe backed out last minute.”
“Why?”
“He said—and I quote—‘Because I don’t want to go.’”
“Classic Rowe.”
“Tell me about it.”
I pulled my phone out. “I’m going to need to take a video and put this up on Crew. My sister is going to kill me.”
“Oh yeah, I heard that your sister came into town, and you all went out without me.”
I hadn’t even thought to invite Katherine that night. I’d been too busy with Amy and Melanie. I was sure that Katherine and Amy would clash. They were a match made in hell.
“Yeah. Sorry about that.”
“No matter. I would have loved to meet your friends. Maybe next time.”
“For sure,” I said because I knew it wouldn’t happen again.
“God, I need a drink,” Katherine said. “Penn, darling, let’s go get drinks.”
“You want to go get drinks?” he asked in a perplexed voice.
My eyes shot to his, and I realized that I could read his discomfort in a way I certainly hadn’t been able to before. And it wasn’t just because he had no interest in being at a Chloe Avana concert.
“Go on ahead,” Lewis said. “I’ll chill here with Natalie.”
“Be right back,” Katherine said, latching on to Penn’s arm and walking back out the way we’d just come.
“I can’t believe she got us these tickets,” I observed.
“Chloe gave them to her,” he said, stretching out in his seat. “It wasn’t a big deal.”
“Wait, what? She knows Chloe Avana?”
“Katherine is a socialite. It’s part of her job to know people who matter. And to be seen at events like this.”
“Still trying to adjust to that being a job.”
“Aren’t we all?” Lewis said with a laugh.
“I think I’ll stick to writing.”
“How is that going anyway?” He looked genuinely curious.
“Well, I sent my agent the start of a new manuscript, which I’m in love with. But so far, not so great on the other two books.”
He furrowed his brows. “Really? Did you send them to Warren?”
“Uh…yeah. Yep. We sure did,” I said awkwardly, remembering the horribly worded rejection letter I’d gotten the day I first met him.
“And?”
“Honestly, they were kind of mean.” I shrugged. “Rejection is part of the job.”
“Huh. Well, shit. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not like you were the editor who rejected me. You don’t even work in publishing,” I reminded him.