“Nicky!” she admonishes in a loud whisper, as if afraid the neighbors might hear.
“Apologize.”
“But...”
She wants to lick her fingers and smooth his hair. Tuck him into bed. Push me from a tower. She’ll steal our infant from his cradle and disappear to Mexico so she can be sure he’s raised with an unhealthy attachment to her. He’ll be christened at St. Mary’s in a white gown monogrammed with roses.
Deborah sputters, eyes pleading, but when they move in my direction they’re sharp as an eagle’s. She never saw this coming. She never thought for a moment that he’d ever side with me over her, because to her I am unimportant. A necessary annoyance that allows her to throw a fancy wedding and get the grandchildren she wants so much, but other than that, I fade into her background. In this house, I have always felt unimportant.
“Pathetic,” Nicholas snarls. “You can’t treat my fiancée that way and expect to still be invited to the wedding.”
I’m not sure whose gasp is loudest—mine, hers, or Harold’s.
Actually, Harold’s isn’t a gasp. He’s choking on his cake. “Oh, for goodness’ sake,” Deborah snaps, thumping him between the shoulder blades. “Chew! Don’t you know how to chew?”
Harold is beet red, cheeks and eyes bulging. He coughs up flecks of cake that get all over the tablecloth and makes a hacking sound that comes out likeShut up.
“I’m invited to the wedding,” Deborah declares while her husband is still struggling to suck air into his lungs. “Of course I am. Don’t even say that.”
“I’m not saying it, I’m threatening it.”
“No!” Harold cries, interrupting his son. Deborah’s trying to yank the cake away from him. “You don’t let me have anything that makes me happy! I might as well be dead. I’ve sacrificed so much. I let you have Beatrice, now you can let me have a piece of cake or so help megodI will jump off the roof of this house!”
She lets him have the cake.
“Who’s Beatrice?” I ask. This is the most bizarre dinner I’ve ever been to.
“A dog she had when I was growing up,” Nicholas murmurs in my ear.
“How can you bring up Beatrice?” Deborah wails, eyes welling with tears. “You know what it does to me, especially at this time of year.”
“Should have punted her into a lake.” Harold picks up the cake in both hands and eats it like a barbarian. This is nuts. There’s no way these people can try to angle themselves as being better than me ever again. “Fifteen years! Fifteen years, I wasn’t allowed to sleep in my own bed because of that dog.”
“She was my child!” Deborah yells.
“And I was your husband, unfortunately! Had to sleep in the guest bedroom! In my own house!” He leans toward me. “My ex-wife didn’t like dogs. Magnolia.” His eyes acquire a dreamy cast. “You don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone.”
“I’m not staying for this,” Nicholas says. “I’m so sorry, Naomi.” To our collective astonishment, he turns his back on the table and takes me with him.
“Nicky!” Deborah cries. “Don’t leave just because of your father. You didn’t finish your dessert.”
“We’re going. Happy Thanksgiving.”
“Are you coming over on Wednesday, then? With the invitations?” Her voice is like a slap in the face, it’s so unreal.
Nicholas is furious. I can hardly keep up with his power-walk, but I’m loving this. It’s the sort of scenario I’ve dreamed about—him essentially telling his mother to fuck off and whisking me away. I’m still offended over Deborah trying to cram me into Slender Man’s measurements, but it’s rapidly being overshadowed by how wonderful it feels to have Nicholas stand up for me.
We duck outside without responding to her, and the head rush is giving me tunnel vision. Nicholas and I fly across the dark lawn, hand in hand. For the second time today, we’re fleeing the scene of the crime and it’s never been like this before with Nicholas and me remaining on the same side of it.
When we get to the Jeep, he braces a hand on the passenger door before I can open it and brackets me against the cold metal with his body. His eyes are intense as they peer down at me, so close I can taste his breath. He takes my face between his palms and says, “Don’t listen to my mother. You are perfect.”
I look away, swallowing. “Thank you.” I offer him a small smile. “We made a good team back there.”
“That’s the way it’ssupposedto be,” he says. He watches me for a moment, seeming to debate something. Then he closes in before I can wonder what he’s thinking, and his mouth is on mine.
I turn to water, knocking back against the door. I barely have time to throw my arms around his neck before he lifts me off the ground, hands wrapped around my thighs. He kisses me fiercely, the sweetest candy, my body crushed between him and the car. Just as the wordsoh myfloat up into my consciousness, the front door opens and there stands Deborah, gawking at us.
I tip my head back and roar with laughter. Nicholas grins, eyes shining, and he laughs, too. I think he can’t believe himself.
