“Standing around while being bossy,” he replied. I raised my eyebrows. “Louna. You literallydraggedme into my mother’s ceremony by one arm.”
“You were holding up the schedule,” I replied, hating how prim I sounded.
“My point is, there’s a lot behind the scenes the layman or guest would never know about. Like a secret world.”
I rolled my eyes. “You make it sound magical.”
“You don’t think it is?”
“I think it’s work,” I replied.
“Magicalwork.” He laughed at the face I made, hearing this, then added, “You know, you can act the part all you want. But my take on you is you’re not as cynical as you make yourself out to be.”
“You have a take on me now?”
“I have a take on everyone. I’m an observer, a witness.”
“Usually those people listen more than they talk,” I pointed out.
“Maybe.” He slipped his hands into his pockets, shaking that curl out of his eyes. “My point is, I’ve been around you a lot the last few days and I’ve seen things.”
“Well,” I said. “That doesn’t sound ominous at all.”
“A cynic,” he continued, ignoring this, “would not have looked as relieved as you did when we found Ira. Also, a cynic would have made sure the boss knew whose dog caused the lost child to wander off in the first place. You, instead, covered for me and Ira, the dog.”
“I think you’re confusing a cynic with an asshole,” I told him.
“Maybe. But I saw how you reacted, both times. You’re not that hardened yet, even if you prefer to think otherwise.”
A car drove around us, the bass thumping. I said, “The key word isyet.”
“It is,” he agreed. “Because you still have a choice in the matter.”
“Or it’s only a matter of time,” I countered.
“Okay,nowyou sound like a cynic.” He tipped his head back, looking up at the stars overhead. “But you’re not fooling me. I know what I saw.”
To this I said nothing. What was the point? It wasn’t like I was proud of my hard little rock of a heart. Everyone’s life shapes them in their own unique way. No one could really understand how the events of the last year, highs and lows, had honed me into what I now was, sharper in places, more calloused in others. And of course I’d been worried about a lost child. I wasn’t a monster. Yet.
We were back at the front doors to the club now, where a large party was exiting the reception, cigars in hand. As we approached, two men, suits rumpled and cheeks rosy, opened a door for us at the same time. In reply, Ambrose spread his arms, clearly loving an entrance. Before he stepped in, though, he turned his head, cupping a hand to his mouth.
“Ira!” he called out. Of course, the dog barked.
“Call me crazy,” my mom said, loosening the strap of one of her shoes. “But I’m thinking they might go the distance.”
“Natalie Barrett.” William gave her a warning look. “Don’t you dare tell me you’ve become an optimist. I don’t think I can take it.”
“Never,” she replied, as he topped off both their glasses, then dropped the bottle with a clank back into the ice bucket. “I just got that sense. They don’t seem like the divorce type.”
“Which is the same as being married happily, yes?”
My mom considered this as she took a sip of her drink.“I don’t think it’s that simple. There’s a whole spectrum between those two, at least in my experience. Like all the variations of gray.”
William didn’t seem to buy it, even before he said, “Gray is gray, as far as I’m concerned.”
“I disagree.” She eased the other strap, wincing as she did so. “I remember being so unhappy at times in my own marriage, for various reasons. And yet the thought of it ending, of choosing to do that... I never would have even thought of it. And if I had, I’m sure I would have considered it the much worse option.”
“Worse than being unhappy?”
