Granny is utterly charmed, even fans herself at Nico’s wink. He stands and gives my jaw a quick peck. “I’m going to the restroom. You’ll be okay for a few minutes?”
“Of course.”
With a squeeze to my waist, he takes off toward the doors, and I move Granny to a table, so I can scrounge up some punch and a plate of food for her to nibble on even though she doesn’t have much of an appetite anymore. Once I sit next to her again, she pats my hand. “I like that boy for you.”
“I like him too.”
She hums then bites into a bit of cornbread. “This must be your mama’s cornbread.” She clucks, rubbing her fingertips together. “So dry.”
I smile into my cup of punch.
“Tell me about Philadelphia,” she says, so I tell her stories about my work, about how Nico has filled my apartment with sunflowers. They’re her favorite too. She used to grow them in her backyard, next to her vegetable garden. Granny is a product of the Great Depression and was completely self-sufficient. Raised her own chickens and taught all of us kids how to properly butcher and pluck one clean. Made her own clothes and was practically the backbone of this town.
“I’m happy for you, darlin’.” She pats my cheek, offering me a smile, and it strikes me just how delicate she is. How long she has lived, and how she doesn’t have much longer left. It’s almost impossible to imagine, this woman who has always been so much larger than life, especially when she groans.
“What?”
“Here comes that bootlicker.”
I glance around. “Who?”
“That Jones boy your sister is always pawin’ over.”
“Waylon?”
She harrumphs. “My daddy didn’t spend all those years moonshinin’ and leading all these families out of the mud with that money, protecting us from the police harassin’ us and those bastards in the government from holdin’ us down, just for your sister to turn around and hang her hat with one of ’em.”
I think if she could spit, she would, but instead, she settles for crossing her arms and sticking her nose in the air when Waylon appears next to me.
“Happy birthday, Miss Lettie.”
She barely acknowledges him.
“I was hopin’ to talk to Josephine for a spell.”
“Better hurry. Her man’s comin’ back soon.”
That makes Waylon suck air through his teeth before aiming pleading eyes at me. “One minute.”
“I’ll be back, Gran.” When she nods at me, I follow Waylon toa corner of the hall, where he backs me against the wall, hidden behind a bunch of balloons.
“What are you doing?”
“With what?”
“With all this?” He motions his arm out behind him as if to encompass the party. “The makeup and dress and shoes.”
I gaze down at myself. After I tried on the dress and Nico convinced me soundly that he loved it as much as I did with his mouth between my legs, he also insisted on buying me these knee-high boots. I’m not much for jewelry, but if I were, I probably would have gone home with a few new pieces as well.
My skin flushes with resentment. Waylon wants me to beashamed. He thinks I should be embarrassed by what I look like. And I refuse. “I think I look nice in this.”
Waylon huffs. “You do, but it’s not you.”
“No? How do you know what’s me and what’s not?”
“Because we’ve known each other since we were kids.”
“So you should know exactly how much I hated it here, how much everyone in this town, including my own family, beat me down,andwhat it felt like for me to confess my feelings for you, only to find you with my sister days later. If you know me so much, then you should know I’ve been waiting a long time to tell you I don’t care what you or anyone else thinks about me anymore.”
