"Everything else is fine?"
"Yes."
"Really?"
A nervous breath punches out of me. "Why do you keepasking? Everything's fine."
She crosses the room and for a second, I think she's going to say something biting, but instead, she puts her hand on my shoulder and brushes it lightly with her thumb, the way she used to when I was very, very little. The way I missed.
"Good."
?
An hour later we're sitting in one of Richard's favorite restaurants. All dark beams, orange lanterns, and Shanghai nostalgia in black-and-white photos on the walls.
They've already dissected every rumor and my mother's desperate ploy to get invited to his parents' chalet.
"The horse statue is stunning," Mom croons, reaching across to squeeze Richard's hand and he smiles at her briefly.
"I knew you'd love it," he says as the waiter hovers, refilling our glasses.
Meanwhile, my phone buzzes and I take it under the table.
Ben:Knock knock
I glance at Richard and Mom. They're debating the statue's craftsmanship and the bronze patina, so I sneak a quick reply.
Me:Still hostage at lunch. What's the emergency?
Ben:You left something
Me:My dignity?
Ben:Your hair tie. It's in my pocket
Ben:Feels like permission
Me:Permission for what?
Ben:To remember how you cry when I fist it and yank youon me. How you drip when I hold you there
Ben:My hand's already busy picturing you
Oh my god.My hand flies to my mouth, faking a cough when Mom looks at me for a second.
I smile at her, try not to combust, not to melt into the upholstery.
Me:You're evil
Ben:No. I'm helpless
Ben:Text me as soon as you're free
Ben:Unless you want me to come find you
I press the heart emoji, slide the phone under my thigh, and when I look up, Richard's completely zoned in on his stock portfolio. Mom's emerald eyes are drilling straight through me, though.
"Em, you're still chewing with your mouth open," she sighs like she's embarrassed.
