Last Night at Chateau Marmont by Lauren Weisberger

to be fine.”
    “Yeah, sure, as my dad and Cynthia blather on nonstop in their manically happy way and your parents sit in stony, silent judgment of them. Sounds like a delightful Sunday morning.”
    “Cynthia can talk shop with my parents,” Julian offered meekly. He made that face that said,
I don’t even believe this myself,
and Brooke started to laugh.
    “Tell me you didn’t say that,” she said, her eyes starting to tear up as she laughed harder. They emerged at Seventy-seventh and Lex and began walking toward Park Avenue.
    “Well, it’s true!”
    “You’re so sweet, do you know that?” Brooke asked, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “Cynthia is a high school nurse. She watches out for strep throats and gives out Motrin for cramps. She knows nothing about whether Botox or Restylane is recommended for a particularly deep smile line. I’m not sure where their professional experiences overlap.”
    Julian feigned offense. “I think you’re forgetting that Mom was also named one of the best in the country at varicose vein removal,” he said with a grin. “You know how big that was.”
    “Yes, of course. Big.”
    “All right, I hear what you’re saying. But my dad can talk to anyone. You know how easygoing he is. He’ll make Cynthia love him.”
    “He’s a great guy,” Brooke agreed. She grabbed his hand as they approached the Alters’ building. “But the man
is
a world-renowned breast augmentation specialist. It’s only natural that a woman would assume he’s sizing up her breasts and finding them inadequate.”
    “Brooke, that’s idiotic. Do you assume that all dentists you encounter in social situations are staring at your teeth?”
    “Yes.”
    “Or any psychologist you meet at a party is analyzing you?”
    “Absolutely, one hundred percent, beyond a doubt.”
    “Well that’s just ridiculous.”
    “Your father examines, handles, and evaluates breasts eight hours a day. I’m not suggesting he’s some pervert, but it’s his
instinct
to check them out. Women can feel it, that’s all I’m saying.”
    “Well, that begs the obvious question now.”
    “Yeah?” she asked, glancing at her watch as their awning came into view.
    “Do you feel like he’s checking out your breasts when he sees you?” Poor Julian looked so crushed at the mere mention of it that Brooke wanted to hug him.
    “No, baby, of course not,” she whispered as she leaned in and hugged his arm. “At least, not after all these years. He knows the situation, and he knows he’s never getting his hands on them, and I think he’s finally over it.”
    “They’re perfect, Brooke. Just perfect,” Julian said automatically.
    “I know. That’s why your dad offered to do them at cost when we got engaged.”
    “He offered his
partner,
and not because he thought you needed it—”
    “Why, because
you
thought I needed it?” Brooke knew that wasn’t it at all—they’d talked about it a hundred times and she knew thatDr. Alter had only offered his services the way a tailor would have offered a discounted custom suit—but the whole thing still irked her.
    “Brooke . . .”
    “Sorry. I’m just hungry. Hungry and nervous.”
    “It’s not going to be nearly as bad as you’re anticipating.”
    The doorman greeted Julian with a high five and a backslap. It wasn’t until he ushered them into the elevator and they were whisking up toward the eighteenth floor that Brooke realized she hadn’t brought anything.
    “I think we should run back out and pick up some cookies or flowers or something,” Brooke said, tugging Julian’s arm urgently.
    “Come on, Rook, it doesn’t matter. They’re my
parents.
They really don’t care.”
    “Uh-huh. If you believe your mother isn’t going to notice when we show up empty-handed, you’re delusional.”
    “We’re bringing ourselves. That’s all that matters.”
    “Okay. You just keep telling yourself that.”
    Julian knocked and the door swung open. Smiling at them from the