The Lying Season (Seasons #1) - K.A. Linde Page 0,83

soon and text me.”

Katherine wrinkled her nose. “Text you? After he sent you away?”

I couldn’t explain the other part to Katherine. She’d never once grappled with her Upper East Side self. This was just who she was. Take it or leave it.

She’d encourage me to just let go. Find a balance between the two. Or better yet, just let Bad Lark take over for a while and see how much better it could be. How much less I’d have to try. Except that wasn’t what I wanted. Right?

“Yeah. And she was blubbering and telling him she still loved him.”

“And you didn’t break her fucking neck for the audacity?” she asked acidly.

“That’s rich, Ren.” I gestured to her husband.

“That is different,” she said icily. “And you know it. Camden and I were arranged. You and Sam chose each other.”

“You’re right. I shouldn’t have made the comparison. I’m sure Fiona makes you want to rake your nails down her face.”

“I’ve considered it,” she said with a small frown before the emotion disappeared. “But it wouldn’t be worth the satisfaction it would give him.”

“We’re both so fucked.”

Despite myself, I checked my phone one more time. Waited for that text message from Sam. But nothing was there. Just as empty as before.

Katherine placed her palm against my phone. “Stop looking for him. It’ll only make you more stressed.”

“Yeah,” I said, stuffing it back into my purse.

But when I looked back up, I saw the very last person I wanted to see right now. Well, perhaps Thomas was actually the second after Claire this particular night. Not that I wanted him beelining for me either.

“Oh no,” I murmured.

Katherine looked up and narrowed her eyes. “I can handle Thomas.”

“Hello, ladies,” Thomas said with a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Enjoying the party?”

“It’s something,” Katherine said, taking another sip of her champagne.

That clearly wasn’t what Thomas had wanted to hear. His nostrils flared at her dismissal.

“And you, Lark? Where’s that boyfriend of yours?”

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” Katherine interjected smoothly.

“I heard he liked to play poker. I figured you’d be together,” he said, baring his teeth in an imitation of a smile.

Something rose up in me. All that anger that I’d wanted to spew on Claire hit me fresh. And I couldn’t stand that slimy grin on his face another second.

I took a step past Katherine’s indifference and right into my Upper East Side persona.

“I don’t care one iota that you expected Sam to be here with me. All I care about,” I said crisply, evenly, “is that you get the fuck out of my presence. I’m here to hang out with my friends. And you are not one of them. You haven’t been one of them since you started stuffing your dick in every girl on Tinder just because you could get away with it. I’m glad to be rid of your unremarkable dick, and I don’t need you crowding around me. Unless you want this little operation brought up to my parents, I suggest you move along.”

Thomas sputtered in shock at my outburst. Even all these years later, I’d never stood up to him. I’d cried and grieved and mourned the loss of a bullshit relationship. I’d put Bad Lark to rest, and I’d gotten walked all over. But I was done letting some dickwad wannabe take up any more of my time or energy.

Katherine just burst into laughter—real laughter. She fluttered her fingers at him. “You heard her. Be gone, snake.”

And to my amazement, Thomas actually turned tail and hurried away from us.

Katherine turned to me and wrapped me in a quick hug. “That was the best Larkin St. Vincent I’ve seen in years. Where have you been hiding her?”

“Apparently, I just needed to come to terms with both sides of who I am. I’m still Upper East Side, right?”

“Always,” she agreed. She snapped her fingers at a passing waiter. She plucked two fresh glasses of champagne off of the tray. “Keep them coming.” The man nodded and fell back into the crowd. Katherine handed me a glass and then held hers aloft. “I propose a toast. To Lark, the Upper East Side, and how we stop putting up with men who ruin the entire fucking world.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

I clinked my glass against hers, and then we both tipped back our champagne. And even though my insides were squirming as I wondered what exactly was happening with Sam and Claire back at his apartment in Brooklyn, I felt like a