Page 7 of Reckless
Britney made a tiny sound beside Michael like she did not approve of this conversation one bit.
Hope looked delighted.Charlie looked ready to sell tickets.
I set down my fork.“That was almost charming.Did someone write it for you?”
“No,” Xerses said.“If someone had, it would have been better.”
“God, you’re smug.”
“You noticed.”
“Everyone noticed.It arrived before you did.It has its own chair.”
His eyebrows arched.“That’s creative.”
“It’s accurate.”
Tension grew inside.He must know I am well aware I’m not his type and hadn’t wanted to flirt or talk but I glanced at him.“You keep using that word.”
“Because you keep deserving it.”
His smile deepened.
That stupid low pull in my body.That warm, heavy awareness that had no business existing in a room full of ghormeh sabzi and family values.
I looked away first.
Coward.
Roxanne was watching us now.
No.Not watching.
Watching.
The way only mothers and serial matchmakers watched.
I wanted a drink strong enough to make me forget my own face.
Dinner kept rolling, conversations spliting and crossing over each other.Charlie got louder.Hope got pinker from laughing.Michael and Britney quietly conspired about something involving spreadsheets and twins and maybe the end of civilization.Avril and Kir had one of those soft, nearly private exchanges that made me want to throw bread at them.Isabel corrected Roman on something with perfect composure and he looked at her like being corrected was his favorite hobby.
I should have felt happy.
I was happy.
That was the problem.I was happy for them and a little miserable for me.
Roxanne rose at one point to direct dessert traffic like a woman conducting an orchestra.More things appeared.Of course they did.Pistachios and fruit.Something with rosewater that nearly made me moan.
“Kelly, have more,” Maman ordered.
“Maman, I’ve had three.”
“That is not enough.You are too thin.”
“I am not too thin.I am appropriately sized for a woman who runs on caffeine and anxiety.”
“Anxiety is not a food group,” Roxanne said.
