I smiled at him appreciatively, assuming the bottle had been meant for just the two of us. But I was grateful for his go-with-the-flow willingness to just play along.
Sevyn came out of the kitchen balancing an assortment of mugs, glasses, and red Solo cups. “Oak,” she called out, “Avery’s date brought some legit champagne, come and join us.”
Gabe turned to me and whispered, “How many of them are there? If I had known you lived in a sorority house, I would’ve brought more bottles.”
I laughed. “Just one more, but Ass is hardly ever home. I’ve lived here for a month already and actually haven’t even met her yet.”
“Ass? Her name is Ass?!”
I barked out a laugh at the look on his face. It probably was the same look I had when the girls first mentioned her nickname back when I was first looking at the apartment. “Actually, it’s Aston. Ass for short.”
“Ah yes. Got it now,” he said quickly, though clearly still trying to wrap his head around the unusual nickname.
Oak came out of her bedroom and swiped a mug from the counter while Sevyn passed around the remaining cups and glasses.
“So, what are we toasting to?” Lyla asked.
I looked at Gabe. “What are we toasting to?”
“Hmm . . . let me think on it for a second.”
“Just make sure that whatever it is, you make eye contact when you clink or else you will be cursed with seven years of bad sex,” Sevyn said. “In fact, that’s how I got my name. My conception is apparently what broke my parents’ spell.”
“Is that really true?” Gabe asked.
Sevyn lowered her eyes coyly and whispered, “I’ll never tell,” with a crooked eyebrow.
Gabe’s eyes widened and then locked in on mine. With a smile, he lifted his glass, still not blinking, and said, “Cheers to new beginnings,” and gently clinked his flute into mine.
As we pulled up to the ornate, gilded entrance of the Pierre hotel, porters in top hats and tails opened the door of the black luxury sedan Gabe had arranged. Dozens of taxis and black SUVs lined the block, waiting to drop off the eventgoers right at the entranceway. Gabe came around the car from the other side, offered me his arm, and we were ushered into the hotel’s signature trompe l’oeil–painted Rotunda Room with its double grand staircase and colorful Renaissance-inspired frescoes. Tapered candles illuminated the stairs leading up to a Juliet balcony, creating an intimate and warm ambiance in spite of the hall’s vastness. It was classic New York elegance paired with sophisticated Old World charm.
Though I’d been to dozens of events at the Pierre with Adam over the years, I never ceased to be amazed at the splendor of the decor, but tonight in particular, standing here with Gabe, there was something extra magical about the space. We picked up our seating cards from a table at the room’s entrance and made our way through the hall, stopping to say hello to different guests every few steps. And this time, unlike so many times before, Gabe introduced me to every donor, kept me by his side at every turn, and checked in with me over and over again to make sure I was having a good time.
“I’m fine, really. If you have to go help with something or attend to anything, I’ll be all right by myself for a bit,” I assured him, remembering all the events I spent on my own because he’d gotten caught up in one thing or another, sometimes forgetting I was even there at all. But this was clearly a different man, still attentive and considerate while also charming the room as one of the event’s hosts.
He rested a hand on the small of my back and leaned in close. “No, I set up everything beforehand and delegated all of tonight’s responsibilities to my team, so that I could enjoy the night with you.” He kissed me on the cheek, smiled, and took my hand. “Let’s get some crab cakes before they all disappear,” he said and pulled me in the direction of the cocktail tables.
After devouring piles of amuse-bouches, fine delicacies, and several glasses of expensive champagne, we took our seats at our assigned table and Gabe pulled a few note cards from his jacket pocket. “Sorry, just give me a few minutes. I think I should review my speech one more time before I get up to speak. I’m just going to excuse myself to run through it. Will you be okay by yourself?”
“Of course I will. Go, go. I’ll be fine,” I assured him and shooed him away playfully. After Gabe took his exit, an older gentleman seated next to me asked if I would be so kind as to pass him the butter plate. I reached over the bread basket and handed the dish to him.
“Thank you, my dear,” he said. “Are you a friend of Gabe’s?”
“I am.” I rested my hand on my chest. “Avery Lawrence, nice to meet you.”
“I’m Javier Ibarra. I work with Gabe at the League. Great guy you have there. In the office, it’s a bit of a running joke, actually.”
“Um, what is?”
“The fact we’ll all be able to say we knew him when. He’s destined for great things, that one. We all talk about how he should run for office someday.”
I smiled warmly. “He’s always been really passionate about social justice.”
“Passionate. Committed. With his level of drive and his charisma, he could have a big career in politics. Plus, he’s not a bad-looking kid, which doesn’t hurt.”
I laughed. “No, it doesn’t.”
An echo of someone tapping on the microphone interrupted our banter, and we, along with the room, quieted and turned our attention to see Gabe front and center ready to address the crowd.
He looked so great up there. So self-assured and relaxed. No question he was in his element speaking on the issues he cared most deeply about—poverty, child welfare, homelessness, and urban development. He was a natural, and it was easy to see why Javier and the other staff members at the League believed he’d have a future in politics one day.
When Gabe finished and exited the stage, he was greeted by some of the donor bigwigs like a celebrity, and I proudly watched him revel in the attention he brought to his organization’s mission. The band leader cued up the orchestra as soon as he finished his speech, and I watched the other party guests make their way to the dance floor.
I remained at the table, tapping my foot along to the beat, until to my surprise, Gabe came up behind me, and without a word offered me his hand. My eyes lifted to his, and a smile broke out across my face. I accepted his gesture, and he led me to the middle of the room and wrapped one arm around my waist, his other hand not letting go of my own.
After a bit of dancing, the tempo of the music slowed to another ballad, and he pulled me in close to whisper, his breath warm on my neck, “What do you think? Wanna get outta here?”
I lifted my head off his shoulder. “Don’t you have to stay ’til the end of the party?”
He shook his head, and with a devilish grin said, “Not tonight.”