One of the guests laughs.
“Oh,” Cormac says, catching on that his opening line wasn’t a crowd pleaser. “I meant as an institution. I wasn’t talking about this marriage specifically. My father always told me that if you don’t succeed once, try, try again, so I’m not surprised he’s here, trying again. There’s nobility in that, and I’m proud of him. Even if heismarrying my second-grade teacher.”
He gets another laugh for that, this time from Liam. Liam is Hannah’s brother, but while she’s petite, he’s a giant. It’s kind of cute that he and Cormac have become such great pals recently. They’re an unlikely pairing, but both of them are a bit no-nonsense. Liam’s not a bullshitter, and I have to admit the same can be said for Cormac.
It distresses me a little that the same cannot be said of me.
“My father is a good guy, and he’ll never leave the sink full of dirty dishes, Mrs. Applebaum-Peebles. If he does, you can make him write lines on a whiteboard. Unlike me, he has excellent penmanship.” More laughs. “Well, I won’t keep you from your salads,” Cormac says after a beat. “We all know lettuce wilts within fifteen minutes of getting dressed. I’ll turn the floor over to…” He hesitates, his gaze drifting across the room until it settles on me. To my shock, he winks at me. “The lovely Nora. Let’s all give her a hand.”
Everyone claps politely. My gaze darts back to José and Pansy, who are both studying me. José looks pissed; Pansy places a hand over her chest and pats it a few times to mime a beating heart. I give her a knowing smile as I stride over to Cormac and our parents, accepting custody of the microphone. He lets his fingers brush over mine, and I have to admit he’s putting on a good show. He’s better at this pretending game than he thinks.
I make my speech, which is much less memorable than Cormac’s, and then we all sit down to our wilted salads, followed by microwaved entrees.
“Does this remind you of something?” Cormac asks in an undertone as he takes a halfhearted bite and then pushes the plate away.
“The mystery chicken casserole at Lakeshore Elementary,” I respond.
My mother, who has been so lost in Mr. Peebles’s eyes that she hasn’t said a word to us since sitting down, smiles at us from her position beside Cormac and says, “Gloria agreed to cater for us. Eugene and I both liked the chicken casserole best. It was the first thing we ever spoke about.”
I can’t decide whether that’s sweet or sad—maybe a bit of both—so I choose to be happy that she’s happy.
“That’s nice, Mom,” I say, but she’s already staring back into Eugene’s eyes.
Cormac shrugs and takes another bite of the casserole before shaking his head and murmuring, “It turns out the best of several bad options is still not good.”
I smile at him, feeling at least fifty times more charitable toward him than I did this morning. Maybe it’s my ginger beer, which I’ve been steadily sipping, or his willingness to help me.
I’m halfheartedly chewing a bite of my chicken when José approaches our table.
“Congrats again, Mr. and Mrs. Peebles,” he says, grinning at them with his hands clasped together.
“It’s Applebaum-Peebles, actually,” Cormac offers.
José ignores him, his focus on my mother, who gives him a tentative smile. “Thanks, José. I hope you enjoyed your chicken.”
She’s been a bit weird with him ever since our short-lived relationship, as if she thinks the breakup was his fault. It was my choice, but she wouldn’t hear a word of it.
“It was delicious,” he says. “I ate every bite.”
Cormac coughs as if he’s choking, and I pat him on the back, fighting a smile. José’s BSing her, of course. He’s good at that, which is why he’s the charming face of The Ginger Station, while I prefer to stay in the back and experiment.
No one wants to put me on charm duty.
“I was wondering if I could steal Nora for a moment,” José says, his gaze skating to my hand on Cormac’s back. “There’s an important business matter we have to discuss.”
“But Nora isn’t working today,” my mom insists, her chin firming. “And she won’t want to miss our first dance.”
“It’s okay, Mom,” I say brightly. “I’ll be right back.”
I glance at Cormac, who holds my gaze for a second. I can’tread his expression, but he looks a little annoyed, and maybe even regretful.
“I’ll be right back,” I insist.
I follow José, who exits from one of the side doors and leads the way to the back of the brewery. It’s insanely hot out today, which is why the reception is being held inside. Still, a few guests have filtered out to the beer garden, and a couple is aggressively making out in one of the hammocks hanging in the trees beyond the picnic tables.
“What the fuck is going on, Nora?” José says, his charm falling away. “Pansy told me you’re secretly dating Cormac, which I know can’t be true.”
“Why not?”
