Пятьдесят оттенков серого

           Theroomisspacious,tastefullyfurnishedincreams,browns,andpaleblues—comfortable,understated,andverystylish.KateandElliotarecuddledtogetheronacouch,clutchingchampagneflutes.Katebouncesuptoembraceme,andMiafinallyreleasesmyhand.

           “Hi,Ana!”Shebeams.“Christian.”Shenodscurtlytohim.

           “Kate.”Heisequallyformalwithher.

           Ifrownattheirexchange.Elliotgraspsmeinanall-embracinghug.Whatisthis,HugAnaWeek?Thisdazzlingdisplayofaffection—I’mjustnotusedtoit.Christianstandsatmyside,wrappinghisarmaroundme.Placinghishandonmyhip,hespreadsouthisfingersandpullsmeclose.Everyoneisstaringatus.It’sunnerving.

           “Drinks?”Mr.Greyseemstorecoverhimself.“Prosecco?”

           “Please,”ChristianandIspeakinunison.

           Oh…thisisbeyondweird.Miaclapsherhands.

           “You’reevensayingthesamethings.I’llgetthem.”Shescootsoutoftheroom.

           Iflushscarlet,andseeingKatesittingwithElliot,itoccurstomesuddenlythattheonlyreasonChristianinvitedmewasbecauseKateishere.ElliotprobablyfreelyandhappilyaskedKatetomeethisparents.Christianwastrapped—knowingthatIwouldhavefoundoutviaKate.Ifrownatthethought.He’sbeenforcedintotheinvitation.Therealizationisbleakanddepressing.Mysubconsciousnodssagely,ayou’ve-finally-worked-it-out-stupidlookonherface.

           “Dinner’salmostready,”GracesaysasshefollowsMiaoutoftheroom.

           Christianfrownsashegazesatme.