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Tori is here, and she’s not alone.
She’s standing at the entrance of the ballroom wearing an iridescent gold gown that cascades down her lithe figure. On her arm is a woman I can only assume to be Mary Anne, and I’m not the only one whose attention is on them. It seems like half the ballroom has turned in their direction, curious about their arrival.
Tori, aware of all the eyes on her, turns to Mary Anne and whispers something in her ear then kisses her on the lips before boldly strolling into the room. She might as well have just shouted about her relationship from the rooftops, and I’m thrilled.
I’m wearing a grin so big my cheeks hurt. I want to thrust my hand into the air and shout, About damn time!
The crowd parts for them, and for half a moment, I wonder if no one will stop to talk to them, as if they’re possibly ashamed by what Tori just did. Immediately, I start toward them. To do what? I’m not sure. Offer my support? Hook arms with them? Issue congratulations?
All I know is I want to be by their side right now, but Nicholas beats me to it.
His dark figure slices through the crowd so that right as Tori and Mary Anne reach the center of the ballroom, he’s there to intercept them.
He hugs Tori then extends his hand to Mary Anne. She laughs and ignores it, pressing up on her toes to hug him instead. Cornelia is on his heels, joining the group so she can chat with the pair as well. Pride swells inside me.
I know how influential the Cromwells are in Newport, how much their opinion matters. It’s old fashioned and ridiculous that one family should have so much sway over society here, but in this instance, I’m glad for it.
It’s as if a magic wand is waved and everyone returns to minding their own business, not all that shocked to find that a woman brought another woman as a date tonight. It’s like HELLO, we’re living in 2020, not 1620.
Ariana and I reach them, and Nicholas steps over to make room for us. Tori grins when she sees me.
“Maren! You have to meet Mary Anne.”
“I’d love to,” I say, extending my hand to her.
She’s stunning, like punch-you-in-the-gut, can’t-look-away beautiful. Her long blonde hair is tugged back into a low chignon, and her designer tuxedo with its feminine cut looks like something a celebrity would wear to the Oscars. I tell her so, and she laughs.
“It’s custom Chanel, but don’t tell anyone,” she says with a wink.
“I don’t mean to be rude, but I see a few guests I need to say hello to,” Cornelia says. “Mary Anne, it was a pleasure to meet you. Tori will have to bring you to Rosethorn next week for dinner. Maybe on Friday? Let me know!”
Tori shoots Mary Anne a winning smile as Cornelia leaves us.
Then the circle shifts, and Tori finally notices Ariana in our ranks.
“Oh, hi. I don’t think we’ve met.”
I want to kick myself for being rude.
“I’m sorry. Tori, this is my friend, Ariana. Ariana, this is Tori and Mary Anne.”
Ariana waves and then cuts in before anyone can say a word.
“Since I know you’re about to ask, Maren and I know each other because we were in the same foster home when we were in high school.”
Tori’s dark brows shoot up in recognition. “Of course. Maren’s mentioned you to me before.”
Once, over lunch at the club after tennis had wrapped up, Tori managed to get me to talk a little bit about my past. She asked about my friends, and I was embarrassed to admit I only really ever had one. Ariana.
“Has she? I’m surprised.”
I frown, not quite catching her meaning. Does she think I’m ashamed of her? I’m not.
“What was Maren like back then?” Tori asks curiously.
Ariana chuckles and shakes her head. “A quiet goody-goody. She never spoke up at first, but we shared a bunk and eventually I forced some conversation out of her.”
“I wasn’t that bad.”
She arches a brow in contest. “You were a total dweeb.” Then she shrugs, as if slightly regretting her words. “Sorry. Was I supposed to lie? I mean, you loved playing piano and reading and shit. God, it took so much arguing to convince you to come out with me. It’s like you lived and breathed by our house rules. God forbid we ever broke curfew.”
“I liked Nancy and Bob. They were good people. I didn’t want to make them worry about us.”
“We were seventeen!” Ariana argues. “What do you think they expected?”
“Were they strict?” Tori asks.
“They had to be with Ariana,” I say, giving in to the urge to tell the truth.
Ariana takes a sip of her drink before replying with a gloating tone, “Yeah, whatever. I’ve never been good at following rules, but Maren always covered for me, didn’t you? Said I was in the bathroom when they’d come to do bed checks at night. Helped me climb back in the window when I’d get home from sneaking out.”
