Exercise Discretion

ARIA

The gala is the next day, which is Saturday. Even though I have to work, it feels like a reprieve from the long days I’ve been enduring recently.

I go to a spin class at my gym, then pick up Jett’s tux and drop it off at his apartment. I don’t see him, which is fine by me, so I just leave it with Ronda.

After taking myself out to brunch, I go home and clean my apartment before getting ready for the gala.

I shower and curl my dark hair into sleek waves, with one side tucked in. Then I do a simple cat-eye with eyeliner, plus mascara, blush, and a nude lipstick.

It feels pretty low-key, but with the gold dress, I still worry that it’s too much. At the same time, I feel especially pretty and polished; the gold color of the dress looks great on my bronze skin. I’m excited to see what Jett thinks.

I mean, I don’t care what he thinks about me, but hopefully I’ll blend in well with the crowd.

At 5:40, Jett texts me that they’re outside. It’s spring in New York, so I wear a black shawl over my dress. I bring a small black clutch containing my keys, wallet, lipstick, and both my phones, then step out into the evening air.

Jett opens the door and steps out of the car, and I think I see his eyes widen slightly as he spots me.

“Hey!” I say as I approach. “The tux looks great.”

“Thanks. You look…good too,” he says, and I watch his eyes slide up and down my body.

“Thank you. You ready?”

I try to keep it light as we get into the car and start driving away.

My phone beeps; it’s a notification from my group chat with Len and Katie. I’d sent them a mirror selfie.

I look up from my phone and catch Jett looking at me; then he scratches his cheek and looks out the window.

“So, uh, I saw the gala is supporting a youth center?” I ask.

“Yes, I like to support causes that benefit kids. Lena wanted to go because the New York Philharmonic is performing.”

My insides freeze. “What?”

Jett looks at me with concern. “The New York Philharmonic? The orchestra?”

Oh my god.

I should’ve looked at the invite closer.

My ex-boyfriend, Gray, plays trumpet for the New York Philharmonic. He’s the last person on earth I want to run into tonight. But if they’re playing, maybe they won’t mingle?

Fuck, why did I wear this flashy dress?!

Gray and I met at a bar while I was attending NYU and he was at Juilliard. He comes from a family of pretentious musicians who’d basically planned for him to attend Juilliard since his birth.

We lost touch after school and reconnected a few years later when I ran into him at a coffee shop. We dated for almost two years, and for the first six months, we were happy—or so I thought.

I learned Gray was having an emotional affair with a fellow musician and, after confronting him, he had the nerve to blame me for not being emotionally available and supportive enough.

After we separated, I started seeing a therapist and finally saw how toxic and manipulative our relationship had been.

The last time I heard from him was about six months ago. He randomly texted me late at night; presumably, he was lonely or had drunk a few glasses of wine, and finally, I chose to block his number.

I was hoping New York was big enough that it’d be years before I saw him again—preferably when we’d both moved on and healed.

Internally, I’m freaking out, but I smile at Jett. “Oh, great!” I say.

He raises an eyebrow at me but then looks out the window again.

As we pull up to the venue, I take my shawl off and leave it in the car with my clutch. Jett gets out first and turns around to help me out. As we walk up the large stone steps, my heart starts pounding in my chest.

The event is in an open ballroom decorated with large white trees covered in glittering lights. All around us, beautiful, rich people mingle while sipping expensive cocktails and nibbling on elegant hors d’oeuvres.

My eyes nervously scan the crowd for the one face I don’t want to see.

“Drink?”

I desperately want to say yes, but I think of the tag on the dress that’s tucked into the back.

“Aria?” Jett prompts. I look at him and see a concerned wrinkle between his eyebrows. “Are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah, yes, a drink, sure,” I say. God, get it together, Aria. “How about champagne?”

“Sure,” Jett says. He places a hand on my lower back and guides me to the drink line. Just then, an older gentleman approaches us.

“Jett! How are you?”

“Martin Phillips in the flesh!” Jett shakes his hand. “How was your trip to Tibet?”

“Absolutely amazing. You’ll have to join us sometime.” The man’s eyes wander over to me. “And may I ask who this stunning young woman is?”

“Aria James, my new PA. She graciously agreed to be my date tonight,” Jett says.

“Hello, Mr. Phillips,” I say as I shake his hand and offer a wide smile.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. James. Tell me, do you get to bid on anything with your boss’s money tonight? It only seems fair to me,” he says as he winks at me.

I laugh. All these guys are the same.

“Only if there’s a trip to Argentina on the docket,” I say brightly.

“Is that so?”

“Yes, I’ve always wanted to visit the Torres del Paine National Park. It looks incredible.”

“Oh, you should talk to my wife! She’s part of a group of benefactors dedicated to the preservation of Patagonia!”

“That’s amazing! Yes, I would love that.”

“Well, hopefully we’ll run into you again later this evening,” Martin says as he waves goodbye to us.

Jett turns to me. “That was Martin Phillips, the CEO—”

“Of Digion, a software company responsible for creating the technology that more accurately measures water tables and their viability in local communities,” I say.

Jett gives me a surprised look. “So, Torres del Paine…”

“Is one of several national parks heavily supported by Martin Phillips’ wife, Angela,” I say as I give the crowd another quick scan.

“Well, I don’t say this often, Aria, but I’m impressed,” Jett says, and I can hear the honesty in his voice.

“Is that a compliment?” I ask coyly.

He smiles down at me, and I feel a slight flutter in my stomach.

After we get our drinks, we continue to mingle throughout the room. When the New York Philharmonic plays, I manage to hide behind several tall people with broad shoulders. Upon peeking between two people, I see Gray is indeed playing on the stage tonight.

Through several more songs, speeches, and toasts, I manage to survive the rest of the performance without rousing Jett’s suspicion.

As the orchestra exits the stage and the evening winds down, Jett asks if I’m ready to leave.

“Yes, if you are,” I say. “I’ll just head to the restroom real quick.”

After washing my hands, I exit the restroom and turn a corner—and immediately spot Gray with his arm around a violin player. The violin player I caught him sexting while we were together.

Panic immediately rises in my chest, and I bolt the other direction. Unfortunately, I run square into a waiter carrying half- or fully empty glasses on a tray. He manages to steady them and doesn’t drop any, but the whole thing causes a loud commotion.

“Are you okay? I’m so sorry,” I say quietly.

“Yes, ma’am, no problem at all,” he says.

“Aria?”

My insides drop as I hear a voice I haven’t heard in months—but could recognize anywhere.