Page 137 of Dial F for Finance

“Is Thomas not here?” I ask no one in particular.

Bennett glances over his shoulder at the empty chair. “I don’t think he’s arrived yet. Thomas has been making himself scarce since the divorce.” He turns his attention back to me. “But I’m more interested in your next move, my friend. Word is we’re all bearing witness to the greatest date night that ever there was. How is operation make-Jenna-decide-she-can’t-live-without-your-particular-brand-of-annoying-charm going?”

“You’ll know if we’re both still wearing our rings next Friday,” I reply, taking the bottle of wine from the center of the table and pouring myself a glass.

Layla casts a glance across the sea of sequins to where Jenna is engaging an honest-to-God federal judge and Willa James at the same time, her smile at full command. “She looks like she’s having a wonderful time,” Layla says. “How do you get her to smile like that?”

“That’s not me. That’s just her remembering what she’s made of,” I say, then shrug, because I’ll never take credit for the raw material. Jenna is the steel beam. I just keep the roof up while she does her thing.

“Well, I’d say your plan is working just fine,” Audrey puts in. “Both Logan and Bennett have noted that Jenna has been so much happier at work since you decided to trial your marriage in the open. If I were allowed to have a vote in the outcome, I’d vote yes—you two belong together.”

I tip my glass toward her. “Noted, doc.”

“I second the yes,” Layla says instantly, hand straight up. “I’ve had my vote ready since the group chat. It’s been notarized.”

“Yes,” Serena says, “with the caveat that I knew first, so mine counts double.”

“The chair recognizes the yes from crisis PR.” Caleb taps his knife on his glass like it’s a gavel. “My own vote is also yes, and I want it disclosed that I hold a significant financial position on this marriage, so it’s less a vote and more a portfolio defense.”

“As her employer, I’m obligated to abstain,” Bennett says, and then, without a beat, “As your friend: yes. Unreservedly.”

“I don’t need a reason. They’re happy together. I vote yes,” Logan says.

“Yes from me,” David says. “And I’d like the record to reflect that I’ve been managing this table’s conflicts of interest since April, uncompensated.”

“Yes,” Nora finishes warmly. “Unanimous. And I don’t even gamble.”

“Thank you,” I say to them all, meaning it. “But I’m not sure how comfortable I am hearing you all vote like you’re board members on my relationship—especially without my wife sitting at the table.”

“My wife,” Layla sighs. “It’s adorable hearing you say that.”

“Again. Thank you. But—” I pause and look around the table, because I need to make this part very clear. “What happens between Jenna and me after tonight isn’t being decided by committee. My goal tonight is to celebrate her accomplishments and show her how proud of her I am, and how honored I am to be her husband. And honestly, I don’t recall talking to the group at large about this.” I turn my gaze to Logan, who pushes his glasses up his nose as his ears turn pink and he slinks down in his chair.

“I only told Audrey,” he says. “It’s romantic. She loves romantic stuff.”

“I do,” Audrey says. “I love it so much I mentioned it to Layla.”

Layla blushes. “I told Bennett.”

Bennett just clears his throat and Caleb chuckles. “Bennett is the one who told me.”

Serena raises her hand. “Which is how I found out.”

“And how we found out,” David says, gesturing between him and Nora. “We were all having dinner.” He clears his throat. “Michaela knows too.”

I set down my wine. “Michaela knows.”

“She took it very seriously,” Nora offers. “She wanted to call you with her thoughts and ideas, but we persuaded her not to.”

“I appreciate that.” I look around the table at the eight most powerful, least discreet people in Chicago. “My entire romantic future has a distribution list. I’ve run leveraged buyouts with fewer informed parties than my own marriage.”

“And yet,” Caleb says, “everyone bought in early. That’s market confidence, Dom.”

My phone buzzes against my chest, one pocket over from the thing that’s been keeping my heart company all night.

Jenna:

Why does table twelve look like it’s staging an intervention? Blink twice if you need extraction.