Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 121054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
My mom looked small-town glam as always. She’d French-braided her hair and donned a black maxi-dress beneath a floaty jacket of zebra print chiffon. She’d refused to compromise her personal style on our recent trip to Macy’s.
We couldn’t go to Barney’s, because she thought it sounded too fancy.
The dining room was set up with hot hors d’oeuvres and a cocktail bar, and the living room was lit softly by the inset lights and the groups of candles I’d had Julia help me arrange earlier in the day.
“I just want things to be as casual as possible,” I said, more to myself than to my mother. Neil and I had finally settled into our life here. I vainly wanted people to see how comfortable we were in our new surroundings. My wedding nerves were also partially to blame. I was still rattled from our sudden encounter with Elizabeth, and I wanted to prove to my mom and, hell, to everyone that Neil and I setting up house together was a good thing, and it was going to work.
“Casual parties don’t require caterers, Sophie.” Mom reminded me.
I looked across the living room to the wide foyer. The coat check guy I’d hired for the night was helping a woman out of hers, and when she turned and her huge belly came into frame, I squealed, “Emma!”
I ran after her like a shot, my arms out wide for a hug. She wasn’t a big hugger. I was, so I employed a lot of these surprise hug attacks. I could never tell if she put her hands up defensively or just out of pure shocked reflex, but it always ended with a hug, so I didn’t really care how it started.
“Oh my god, my ankles are so swollen,” she complained over my shoulder. As her pregnancy advanced, her list of discussable subjects had narrowed to whatever part of her was uncomfortable at the moment. In the past, Holli and I had made fun of women who got so caught up in their pregnancies that they couldn’t think of anything else, but I pitied Emma. I wouldn’t have wished her puffy legs on anyone.
“Sophie, is this her?” I heard Mom approaching. I stepped out of the way and ushered her over with one hand as Michael stepped over to join us. I gave him a quick hug, too, before I introduced everyone.
“Mom, this is Emma. Emma, this is Mom.” This was the moment. The woman who once owned a “People Eating Tasty Animals” t-shirt was going to meet the living embodiment of the stereotypical outspoken big city vegan she ranted about at holiday dinners. “And this is her husband, Michael.”
“Oh, look at you!” Mom gushed, putting her arms out. The gold bangles on her wrists clinked as she made a gesture to approximate Emma’s size. “You’re as big as a house! Well, not this house. That’s got to be a relief, right?”
“Um. Thank you?” Emma threw a puzzled look to me. “Where’s Dad?”
“I think he’s hanging out in the bar with Rudy.” I motioned in that general direction. “Where’s your mom? I thought she said she was coming.”
Not that I would be absolutely devastated if she missed it.
Emma knew exactly what I was thinking, because she had the same wry twist to her mouth that her father always got when he could sense my seething, illogical jealousy. “She’s driving in separately, so she can leave early.”
“Oh. That’s…a shame.” I smiled, unapologetic in my churlishness, and Emma laughed.
“You’re awful. I’m going to go find Dad and put my feet up in a dark corner somewhere. Nudge me if I’m snoring,” she said with a roll of her eyes.
“And come rescue me if she’s unconscious. I don’t want Mr. Elwood to strike when I’m vulnerable,” Michael mock pleaded as he followed Emma away.
“They seem nice,” Mom said once they’d left. “So, I’ll be their grandmother, then?”
“Stop,” I warned her.
“All right, all right.” She motioned with her long acrylic nails. “I’m going to go get a drink.”
She left, and I chewed my thumbnail as I surveyed the room. I was fooling myself, thinking I cared about anyone’s opinion but my mom’s. There was this gnawing need for her approval. Maybe if everything went perfectly, we would look like a real couple to her. Or maybe the S.S. Be Okay With It had already hit an iceberg.
“Sophie,” Neil called across the room. He and Rudy emerged from the hallway. Rudy had a highball glass with something dark in it, but Neil had a bottled water. A shiver ran up my spine at the sight of that, for two reasons. One, he didn’t get drunk before we engaged in heavy Dominance/submission scenes. Second, it was a party, and he wasn’t drinking. At least, not yet. That kind of progress thrilled me. Neil hadn’t exactly been open with me about his therapy was going, and though I’d desperately wanted to ask, it wasn’t my business. The fact that he didn’t already have drink in his hand gave me hope.