"We have to go," Jack says.
"Why?" I'm working on a batch of lemon tarts, but my cell is jammed beneath my ear. I've spent the last ten minutes going over every last detail of the Dante encounter with Jack, including the invitation to his house on Sunday.
"Because how often do we get invited to the home of one of the Fontaines? Or any celebrity, for that matter?"
I don't bother pointing out that I've been to Dante's place before. Attending Dante's little get-together means continuing to engage him, and I refuse to do that.
"You work for Brockman now," I remind Jack. "I'm sure you'll have plenty of chances to hang out with celebrities."
"Not at their homes. Or at their private parties. Come on, Ash, how bad could it be?"
"Very bad. Very, very bad. I don't think he believed me when I told him I had a boyfriend."
"All the more reason you should show up with me and we should rub it in his face."
"I'm not sure we could pull that off."
"Are you kidding? People always think we're a c
