39
Emma
I’m still pondering the dilemma the next morning, when Marcus and I meet Kendall for brunch in the West Village—at a popular, very pricey place Marcus chose, which means I’m going to have to let him pay. I thought about arguing for a cheaper alternative, since he already paid for one dinner out this week, but my heart wasn’t in it and I let it slide. Besides, Kendall just about had a stroke when she heard that Marcus got us a Saturday brunch reservation at the place.
Apparently, it’s a celebrity hotspot, and for non-billionaire mortals, there’s an eighteen-month wait for even the least popular weekday time slot.
As we approach the restaurant, a man jumps out in front of us, fancy camera in hand, and snaps a picture, then scurries away before either of us can blink.
“Hold on,”
