Augie had felt so awkward, she’d tried to make peace by crafting that extra table setting—hoping that if she extended one small kindness to Mrs. Crawley, she might meet her halfway, move past whatever was brewing between them. Together, they could have made fun of Joshua Mike, praised Zami’s cooking. Any small camaraderie could have set them on a different path. But no. As Leahwould say, Mrs. Crawley chose violence. Now, Augie didn’t know what to think.
Augie got up, flushed for good measure, and washed her hands. She checked her phone one last time, unsurprised Leah hadn’t responded. She was back at the lake with The Babe, probably boat hopping, hair slicked down her spine, shivering in her American flag bikini. Maybe it was for the best she didn’t see Augie’s text. Leah deserved to have fun. Augie felt so needy lately. She sent one more message:but all good, have fun!!!, feeling more alone.
At least she looked nice, Augie thought as she studied herself in the mirror. Her tan was still going strong, and her black dress fit perfectly: it had an appropriate V-neck and thick straps that held her chest and torso tight before flowing to her knees.You got this, she said to her reflection.Be the bigger person. Be glad you aren’t her.
As she stepped back into the kitchen, she froze as she saw Chat, who was seated with the boys and Gigi at the butcher-block table next to the center island, illuminated under a modern orange light fixture. He tucked a bib into Max’s shirt while Zami cut sausages on their plates. As soon as Chat spotted her, he also paused, his shoulders lowering, as if now that she was here, he could relax.
“Augie”—Zami held up the frying pan with a hot pad—“have you met Chat? He is the best. Even if I have to double my grocery trips now.” He put down the pan and nudged Chat’s shoulder. “He eats like a horse! He likes ajvar almost as much as you.”
Augie felt aware of her whole body as she moved closer to the table, briefly allowing herself to look at him directly. He was wearing the same blue Fourth of July T-shirt from earlier, but now he had on nicer shorts and his hair was combed in a way she hadn’t seen before. Every time she was near him, she instinctively remembered how natural it had felt being pressed against him, kissing him.
“Okay, ladies,” Zami said as Teuta stepped in the kitchen, pinching the boys’ cheeks and high-fiving Chat. “Let’s bring the salads and breads out now, then each main—and watch the heat there.” He pointed to a sizzling tray of ribs. “And after that we can have our own feast, yes?”
Zami moved to open the oven, revealing where he’d saved portions of each dish, ribs and sausages and fresh byrek, for family meal.
“We’ll join you soon.” Zami pointed his spoon from Chat to the boys to Gigi, who giggled with her mouth full. Cooper danced in his seat, flinging a spoonful of tabbouleh on the floor. Max screeched as he craned in his high chair to look down at the mess. He grabbed a fistful and dropped it on the floor, too.
“Ayeeee.” Chat fake-gasped. “All hands on deck!” he commanded as each boy placed their palms down by their plates, grinning at him like obedient puppies.
Chat looked up to Augie, smiling like it was only the two of them—and for a second, everything else did seem to fade away.
“We’ll save you a seat.”
11
Danika avoided looking at Augie as the staff brought out platter after platter at five thirty on the dot, sweet, peppery smells filling the air. She wanted to keep the night moving.
“This is lovely, Danika,” Mallory said as she unfolded her napkin in her lap. “So... creative.”
Danika knew Mallory was forcing herself to be polite—being a nice little dinner guest. She didn’t trust her.
“Really lovely,” Jackie repeated, spitting a piece of ice back into her cocktail glass.
“I love hummingbirds.” Abby held the runner between her fingers and turned to Danika.
Danika smiled tightly in thanks.
They began to fill their plates, and Danika regretted having Chat feed the kids in the kitchen. She wished he and the boys and Gigi were all there, sitting next to her, not cozying up with Augie and Teuta and Zami. She took another large sip of wine as Bill stood up.
“Friends.” He raised his bourbon higher. “I’d like to first thank you all for coming.” He glanced around the table in a circle—from Danika to Holly to Abby, Jackie, Joshua, Malcolm, Mallory, and Frank. “Thank you so much for joining us on this festive evening.”
Danika studied him, confused as to why he seemed nervous. He was rarely nervous.
“I’d also like to thank my wife, and Zami, for putting on such a wonderful spread and party. We’re all so glad you could make it.”
“God Bless America!” Joshua Mike yelled.
“Nothing beats good friends and food. God Bless America, indeed. Okay, let’s eat. Amen.” Bill pivoted his glass toward Joshua Mike and sat down.
Danika didn’t speak as she ate quickly and listened to the chatter around her, the music streaming from the speakers above. She wished she could turn it louder and drown out everyone’s voices, but she couldn’t help but take in each surface-level conversation—endless talk about vacations and weddings, the summer’s heat. It wasn’t until Abby cleared her throat that the energy shifted and Danika looked up.
“So”—Abby rested her elbows on the table while clasping her hands, roping in everyone’s attention as if casting an invisible lasso—“where was everyone last Fourth of July?”
She looked across the table through the candlelight, focusing on Danika. Danika stared back, noticing she hadn’t eaten anything on her plate. It felt personal.
“You were in Nashville, right?” Joshua Mike turned to Jackie. “I remember a picture of you in some American flag jean shorts. It was that memorable, trust me.” He made an “okay” sign with his hand.
“Yes, good memory, fanboy,” Jackie teased. “I’m a singer, you know. I love Nashville. Nash Vegas. I wish I could live there.”
