_OceanofPDF

We walked up to the rooftop together, where the view surrounded us on
all sides, unbroken by glass corners or limited by a ceiling.
“Wow.”
She wasn’t reacting to a welcome separation from her tormentors, but
the lights set up to draw pictures on the surface of the clouds.
“My parents,” I said. “My mother’s glad to be near us. And anything
that makes Mom happy makes Dad happy.”
She looked away from the sky, and me, to the musicians setting up. The
rooftop we called the Tower was bustling as the caterers got ready for the
VIP guests.
“My parents were like that. Dad let Mom run the business any way she
wanted because it made her happy, and any success she had doing it made
him happy. It was like a loop.”
“My mother got a Master’s in English literature and never did anything
with it so she could support my father full time. Perfect marriage.”
“Of course.” She nodded as if it pleased her to know we were
incompatible.
“Here.” I laid my hand on the curve of her back again, feeling that
overwhelmingly satisfying sense of control, and led her to a little table
overlooking the pool of webbed bridges with the circular conversation pods.
I held out her chair. When she sat, the silver gown pooled over the sides as
if it had melted over her body.
“Mister Crowne,” Maurice, the head of the catering company, said as I
sat. “Can I get you something?”
“I’ll have a Macallan. Rocks,” I said, then turned to Ella. “Anything for
you?”
She bit her lips back, then said, “Sprite with a little of that red stuff on
top?”
“I’ll have that sent right over,” Maurice said, turning on his heel and
disappearing.
“It’s a party,” I said. “You don’t have to drink Shirley Temples.”
“I don’t want to get fuzzy. We have to keep our story straight.”
“Right.” I spread my legs to opposite sides of the chair and leaned over
the table to get near enough to speak with definitive, emotionless force.
“Here’s the deal. You and I are soul mates. You make me a better person,
and I make you stronger.”