Chapter 35

• Something alarming, as in, someone probably asked her if I’m gay. That’s what her socialite friends spout off about me when I refuse to meet their prim and proper daughters. That I’m gay.
• I ignore Mom and her shallow entourage. The thought of her and Dad brings forward nausea I’ve been trying to get rid of for fucking decades.
• But Gwyneth and the not-some-normal bike kid are still talking and laughing. They’re still trapped in their own world as if the rest of their surroundings don’t exist.