Chapter 6 - We Sat Back Down Under the Chandeliers Like Nothing Happened
Carol's hand stayed light on my back all the way from the hallway to the ballroom doors, steering but not pushing. I could hear the room before I saw it again, that low swell of talk that dips when people notice you. The warm air hit my face, butter and perfume and candle wax, and the chandeliers threw everything too bright after the dim hall.
Our table was still messed. Someone had cleared the charger and the spilled soup, but the white cloth had a faint pink stain where they'd blotted it. My chair was pulled out waiting for me. I stared at that stain for a second longer than I should have.
"Smile a little," Carol murmured, close to my ear. "Just for the walk."
I didn't smile, but I kept walking. The marble was slick under my heels. I counted my steps to keep my breathing even.
The whispers started before we reached the table. Two women at the next table leaned together, one of them holding her phone face-down but angled toward us. A man in a tux glanced up, then quickly looked back at his bread plate. I felt every eye flick to my dress, to the damp spot at my side where we'd tried to rinse it, then to my belly.
I put both hands low over my bump without thinking. It wasn't a pose. I just didn't want them staring at him like he was part of the show.
Daniel stood when he saw us. He'd wiped most of the soup off his face, but there was still red at his hairline and a smear on his collar. Someone had given him a napkin and he'd tucked it like he was in on the joke.
"There she is," he said loud enough for the tables around us. His voice had that easy charm he used with donors. He came around and pulled my chair a little farther out. "Careful. You okay to sit?"
I didn't answer. I sat because Carol had asked me to sit for photos, nothing more. The chair legs scraped the marble.
He set his hand on my shoulder and squeezed. His fingers were warm and a little damp. To anyone watching it would look tender. I could feel his thumb pressing too hard near my collarbone.
"See? All good," he said to the older couple across from us, and laughed once. "Pregnancy hormones plus hot soup. I'm sleeping on the couch tonight, right, honey?"
The older man gave a polite chuckle. His wife didn't. She looked at me, then down at her own plate.
A server came by with water and I nodded for a refill. My hands were shaking just enough that I held the glass with both hands. The ice clicked. I drank and kept my eyes on the centerpiece, tall white lilies that smelled too sweet.
My phone buzzed in my clutch under the table. Then again. I didn't look. I knew what it would be. Someone had filmed. Someone always filmed.
Carol took her seat on my other side and smoothed her dress over her knees. She picked up her wine and held it without drinking, scanning the room like a hostess counting damage. When the blonde woman two tables over lifted her phone openly, Carol stared at her until she lowered it.
"Eat something," Carol said quietly to me, nodding at the fresh salad a busboy set down. "It helps. Just move your fork."
I picked up my fork to make her stop watching me. I pushed a piece of lettuce across the plate. I wasn't going to put anything in my mouth with Daniel's hand still on my chair. My stomach was tight and sour.
Daniel leaned in, his beard brushing near my hair. For a second his act dropped to just us.
"Come on, Maya," he whispered. "Play it straight for twenty minutes and we're out of here. You owe me that much after that stunt."
I turned my head just enough to look at him. Up close I could see the soup still in the edge of his beard and the shine of sweat on his forehead. My throat burned.
I didn't say a word. I looked back at the lilies and set my hand again over my belly where the baby had started shifting, slow and heavy. Daniel held his smile for the table, then let his hand slide off my chair.
May you like
The speeches started. Some foundation guy thanked Carol, thanked the donors, talked about families. People clapped. Dessert came, something chocolate with gold dust. The lights stayed warm and golden on everything, making even the stained cloth look almost clean if you didn't look hard.
I sat through it without speaking once, moving my fork when I had to, keeping my other arm curved around myself while the cameras and the whispers moved around us like water around a stone.
