“We only need six,” I said, leaning against the sliding glass door. “Most people will probably stand near the grill.”
Ethan set a chair down with a sharp clang. He cracked his knuckles, the sound dry and loud in the quiet yard.
“Dad might want to sit,” Ethan said. “He doesn’t like standing when he eats.”
“Have you talked to him lately?” I asked, keeping my voice even.
“He text me,” Ethan said, his eyes fixed on the rusted bolt of the chair leg. “He said he was busy with the new house.”
I saw the tight line of his jaw and the way his fingers twitched against his pockets. He wanted his father here, but the weight of that expectation was already bending his shoulders.
“He’ll be here, Ethan,” I said, though the words felt hollow in my mouth.
“I just want one afternoon where we look like a normal family, Claire.”
The use of my first name instead of Mom slipped out of him like an old habit he had picked up from listening to his father’s arguments. I did not correct him.
Instead, I watched him walk back toward the shed, his sneakers squeaking on the white concrete.
By eight in the evening, the house was dark. I sat at the small desk in the living room, the only light coming from the blue glow of my laptop screen.
The blank search bar stared back at me.
My finger hovered over the trackpad. The thought of what I was about to do brought a cold wave of shame to my throat, but the image of Jordan’s silver sedan driving past me without a glance remained burned into my mind. I could not face him on Saturday, not with Percy standing beside him while I stood alone.
I typed the words into the search bar: professional companion services companion for hire.
The results came up instantly, a long list of agencies with elegant, neutral names designed to hide their true purpose. I clicked on one called Elite Partners Ohio.
The page featured photos of attractive, well-dressed men standing in clean, bright rooms. The text promised absolute discretion and professional actors who could adapt to any social setting for a fee of five hundred dollars.
Five hundred dollars.
It was nearly double the grocery bill I had paid this afternoon. I looked at my purse on the desk, knowing exactly how little was left in the savings account.
But then I pictured Jordan’s clipped, rapid voice, and the way he would look at me if I was standing by the grill by myself.
I opened the inquiry form and began to type.
The form asked for the event date, the duration, and the desired background of the companion. I wrote down the details of the party, Saturday at two o’clock, and specified that I needed someone who could play the role of a devoted, successful partner.
