Chapter 15

“Wrong clubs, I can take you to a club in the West Village. The Les Gar?ons at Le Baron where no one will point or stare, I promise,” Marc said decisively.

“You can’t promise that no one will notice,” Colin said, sounding forlorn

“But I can promise you that you’ll be having such a good time, you’ll ignore it if they do. I’ll have Armand, Sean, Ian and Rémy join us to go dancing, and then you’ll be more comfortable—but for dinner, I want you to myself.”

“Okay,” Colin said in a small voice. I want him to be right. I want to be able to go out and not be noticed because of my scar. The scar seems to define me because so very few people see behind it to who I am beneath.

Marc sees you, not the scar, as did Armand, Sean, Rémy, and Ian. Even their assistants seemed not to notice. You have the problem. Then he remembered his mother. She supposedly loved me, and she never stopped talking or thinking about it. Maybe they do find it disgusting but are too polite to say so.