I couldn’t have created someone better in any made-up schoolgirl daydreams. He wore all black, with his suit jacket open and the first two buttons of his shirt undone. He was clean-shaven, giving a view to how angular and strong his jawline was, but his hair was as intentionally messy as it always was, making him look just a little more human.
“Wow,” he said breathlessly, his eyes trailing up and down my body. “You look . . . wow.”
Prickly heat spread across my chest. “You look pretty wow too.”
Brooklyn scooted closer to me as another hostess walked behind him, having to weave through the small crowd of people with a full tray of champagne, and placed his hands at my waist to keep us both upright. He smelled so good it genuinely made me weak at the knees. When he realized how close we were, he took a step back.
“I’m really sorry I’m late,” he blurted. “I originally had a white shirt on, then I spilled coffee on it, and I couldn’t find another shirt so I had to look through my dad’s closet. It was a mess.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “You’re here now.”
“I am.” He brought his hand back to my waist with a little more intention this time, snaking it around to rest on the small of my back. He dipped his head down so he could whisper in my ear. “You really do look beautiful.”
My body reacted to his touch, and I put my hands to his chest. “You really do too. Handsome, I mean. You clean up nicely.”
Having an intimate moment with someone really changed the way you looked at them—no matter how small and seemingly inconsequential that moment was. Sure we’d kissed, and sure we said it was a one-time thing, but it didn’t change how you hyperfocused on their lips and tried to relive the moment in your head, from the way they tasted to the places their hands rested on your body. I searched his deep ocean-blue eyes, wondering if he was reliving it too. He poked his tongue out to swipe it along his bottom lip, and I had to swallow down my heart.
But my sister, as always, had impeccable timing. Brooklyn and I separated like we’d shocked each other.
“Thank godyou’re here.” She feigned distress, as if she hadn’t been standing by me in the same exact spot not five minutes ago.
“Hey, Nikki,” Brooklyn greeted her.
“Hi,” she replied, but she kept her focus on me. “You need to talk Mom out of locking herself in the bathroom for the rest of the night.”
“What?” I said. “Is she all right?”
Nikki shook her head. “She’s been doing that awkwardHI, I’m Melanie, have we met before?to people passing by, like Dory fromFinding Nemo.”
“Oh boy.”
“It’s fine,” Brooklyn chimed in. “I actuallyshouldgo find the bathroom.”
Nikki didn’t waste another second and pulled me away. Mom stood on the far side of the gallery, between two large oil paintings of the ocean. I remembered seeing her work on one of them, and it had taken her days to get the colors right for the water.
The closer we got to her, the more out of place I realized she looked. Even though I had watched her pull her hair tight into a sleek ponytail when we were all getting ready, frizzy strands had begun to poke out at her hairline. As a man and a woman walked by to admire one of her paintings, she gave them an awkward grimace.
“Oh god, Nat.” She groaned as I walked up to her. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t know what to do with my hands or my mouth, and this dress is so goddamn itchy.”
I put my hands down on her shoulders. “Everything’s all right, you need to loosen up a bit. These rich artsy people can smell fear.”
That got her to chuckle and her shoulders to ease up under my hands.
“Take a few deep breaths,” I told her. “I’ll stay right here with you and entice people over with the cleavage Nikki insisted I have out.”
She laughed again and heaved out a relieved sigh. “I’m fine. You should go enjoy yourself. Both of you.”
“Well, I’ve enjoyed the champagne enough and now I need to pee.” Nikki turned to me and handed me her glass. “I’ll be right back.”
“If you see Brooklyn, tell him where we are,” I called after her. When another hostess walked by with a tray of champagne, I felt compelled to grab my own. Despite the fact that I knew champagne needed to settle and should be drunk slowly, I immediately took a long gulp.
“Looks like I’m not the only one who needs to relax.” Mom raised her eyebrow at me.
“What?” I scoffed at her. “You said enjoy yourself. I’m enjoying free champagne.”
A younger man (and truly only younger compared to the posh older people walking around) walked by the two of us, assessing Mom’s oil paintings with a musing smile. He then glanced at her and offered her the same one before walking away.
I nudged Mom with a sly grin, but before I could instigate any further, Nikki came waltzing back to us, and without Brooklyn.
