As if leaving the room would force me to face a reality I didn’t want, even if the truth was that the current reality I was living sounded better than the one I’d left behind. But the inevitable came to be. Kitty knocked on my door. “Rox, it’s Leo on the landline.” She spoke as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him to call. As if she knew exactly who he was, as if they were old pals. “I don’t want to talk to him,” I said. Silence. “He’s asking very nicely.” “Tell him to leave me alone.” “He wants to know if you’ll go to a gala with him.” The suggestive tone of her voice was unmistakable. I didn’t know exactly what she was suggesting, but she sure as hell had the wrong idea about the two of us. “Oh?” I asked, affecting an air of indifference. “Champagne. Fancy hors d’oeuvres,” she hissed. “I asked him to be specific. Obviously, I told him you don’t go to dinner or parties or any of that sort of thing,” Kitty went on, “but he says he knows that and refuses to take no for an answer.”
