Page 63 of Nash
Amelia is quiet at first. She sits on the arm of the couch with her wine, watching, her fingers wrapped tight around the glass. Candace notices. Shifts over, pats the cushion beside her. Amelia hesitates, then slides down into the spot.
"Amelia," I say. "Have you ever had pickled okra dipped in peanut butter?"
"I have never had pickled okra at all."
"Then tonight is historic. Darla, pass the jar."
"Don't corrupt her," Maggie says.
"Corruption is the foundation of girls' night." I hand Amelia an okra. "Dip. Bite. Don't think about it."
Amelia dips. Bites. Her face does something complicated.
"Well?" Darla asks.
"It's..." Amelia chews slowly. "Not the worst thing I've ever eaten."
"VICTORY!" Darla throws both hands up. "Another convert. The okra army grows."
Frankie's mouth softens at the edges. She reaches over, takes an okra from the jar, skips the peanut butter, and eats it plain. "The peanut butter is a crime. The okra is fine."
"Frankie, you're a witch, not a food critic," I say.
"I can be both."
"Amelia," I say. "What's the worst date you've ever been on?"
Her eyes widen. "I don't really date."
"Perfect. That means you have standards. Sloane, worst date. Go."
Sloane takes a sip of lemonade. "Junior year. He took me to a poetry reading. Read his own poem. About me. In front of everyone. It rhymed."
"It rhymed?" Darla says.
"It rhymed. He rhymed my name with 'insane.' It doesn't rhyme. He forced it. He thought it was romantic."
"I would have left," Maggie says.
"I stayed for the free wine," Sloane says. "Then I left."
"Candace?" I ask.
"Worst date implies I dated." She sips her wine. "Malachi and I didn't date. He just became the safest person I knew, and I spent a very long time pretending that it didn't mean what it meant." She pauses. "Then one day he backed me into a corner, called me on every wall I'd built, and I thought, well, shit."
"How long did you fight it?" Darla asks.
"Longer than I should have."
Everyone laughs. Amelia is smiling, looser now, her shoulder touching Candace's.
My eyes drift to Nash without permission. He's at the wall, arms at his sides, watching the room. Watching me. The stories about these women falling for impossible men are landing in places I can't protect, and the man standing ten feet away is the reason.
I look away before he catches me.
"Darla?" I say.
Darla goes quiet for a second, her hand circling her belly. "East and I never really had a first date. It was complicated. Declan was his best friend, and I was Declan's sister. For a long time, that was a line neither of us could cross." She pauses. "I wanted to go to prom with him. I did go with him and Declan. It wasperfect and messy. Nothing was simple." Her mouth softens. "Then Declan was gone, and East spent a long time running from me because wanting me felt like betraying his best friend. And I spent a long time letting him." She rubs her belly. "Now I'm carrying his twins. So either I won or I lost, depending on how you look at it."
