“I just mean, I’ll make sure I’m getting the right signals. I’m not just gonna lunge at him. I’ll, you know, make sure I know he’s gonna take the bait,” she says. Cora looks at the floor and swallows hard.
“Yeah,” she says.
“He might not, Cor,” she says more softly. Cora blinks back tears and gestures to a few moms she knows from Mia’s school across the way.
“I should go say hello,” Cora says, painting a smile across her face and moving through the crowd of people, bumping folks in the backs of the knees with her giant feathered skirt. Paige watches as Vanessa Hammon’s knees buckle and she reaches her hand out so her drink spills on the floor and not on her dress. Cora is clueless of the domino effect of spills she’s caused and the glares she leaves in her wake. Paige would usually be delighted by this, but instead she feels tiny pricks of heat spread across her chest, creating blotchy red marks. Is it guilt or excitement? She can’t tell.
People start to get messy after a couple hours. Grant sits with Paige at a table in the banquet room with the band. They passively listen to the music and watch Cora and Finn and a few of their friends dance. Charlotte is out there, seemingly drunk and a little handsy. Paige has learned she goes byCharlikeCherbut with ana, so Paige has made sure to pronounce itCharas incharbroiledand pretends not to hear when someone corrects her. Char is doing that thing where she drops it low or twerks or whatever the hell and then tries to share a laugh, insecurely, like she was just kidding, just pretending to do a silly move, but is secretly trying to push sexual boundaries to see what kind of attention she can get.
Grant pops a white Laffy Taffy into his mouth and chuckles.
“What?” Paige asks.
“I think Sequin Dress over there forgot to wear underwear,” he says. She doesn’t have to look to know the only one in a skintight sequined dress is Char.
“Dinner and a show,” she says jokingly.
They’re sitting at a table with a three-tiered glass dessert-stand centerpiece that is filled with all-white candy for some strange reason. Paige has collected meringue drops, rock-candy sticks, and gumdrops and piled them on a plate in front of her.
“Did you even know they made white M&Ms?” she asks, pushing one into his mouth.
“Whoa, I got a taffy goin’ on here. That doesn’t go,” he says, spitting it into a napkin.
“What the hell flavor iswhitetaffy?”
“Eggnog?” he says with a shrug. She looks at the wrapper.
“Macadamia.You can’t tell the difference between eggnog and macadamia. Both of which go with chocolate, FYI.” She pushes another M&M at him, and he smiles, keeping hold of her hand a moment. She smiles back. After a beat, she pulls away and continues her meaningless observations.
“And why would they choose the rarest color of candy for this thing? Is that how they spend their money? It’s a charity event. Maybe their candy budget could have gone to, I don’t know, the sponsored charity.”
He looks at her plateful and gives her a look that saysIf you say so.
“What’s the charity, again?”
“A Child’s Wish Foundation,” he says.
“Jesus,” she scoffs.“Sorry we can’t help your child’s dying wish come true. We had to buy a storage unit full of...”she examines the candy in front of her“...piña colada jelly beans. Our bad!”
Cora comes over and plops down, exhausted, at their table. She takes off her heels and dabs at a bit of sweat on her brow with a napkin.
“Almond bark?” Paige offers up her plate.
“Oh, I shouldn’t,” she says but continues to look at it. Paige hates Cora’s fat complex. She’s a perfectly curvy, average-size person, and she needs to get over herself. She looks great.
“How’s the piano stuff going? Grant told me, and I forgot to say anything,” Paige says and watches Cora’s cheeks go red and a shy smile spread across her face.
“Haven’t started quite yet, but it will be good. Really fun.”
“Can I get you a refill?” Grant asks, standing.
“Oh, no, I’ve had too much. Thanks, though,” Cora says with a giggle as Paige simultaneously holds out her glass and says, “Martini. Extra olives.”
Cora gets shy and apologetic. “Oh, God, sorry, I thought you were talking to me. Us. Never mi—Of course you were asking her. Ha ha! Sorry.”
Paige finds this behavior odd and looks at her a moment.
“I was asking whoever was thirsty,” Grant says, graciously, taking the outstretched glass and heading to the bar.
