Page 57 of Marriage (Red, White &) Blues

“Travel day.”

“But it’s a travel day without insufferable conversations.”

“I really want to kiss the shit out of you right now.”

My shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. Now I have something to look forward to. Be prepared to show up fashionably late to that dinner tonight, Gloria Parker.”

“Is that an order?” I asked in challenge, winking.

“Dammit, woman.” He ran a hand over his face but composed himself enough to kiss my cheek right as the doorbell rang. My chariot awaited. I collected my phone and my clutch, kissed Blake one more time, and then headed off to lunch with the Detroit Women’s League. Fun.

To pass the time, I tried to engage the driver in conversation. As that failed miserably, I texted Pen and Sierra all about the lunch I was on my way to.

Pen:My mother will be there.

Me:You?

Pen:Sorry, no. I’d have accepted her invitation if I’d known you’d be there.

Si:I wouldn’t. My mother is in Arizona. I’m safe.

Me:

Si:

Me:Just you wait, Sierra Winthrop. Your evil ways will come back to haunt you.

Si:I’ll take my chances.

Pen:Ant is giving me his ‘I want booty’ eyes. G2G

Si:Guess it’s just you and me.

Me:For now. Blake has ‘I want booty’ eyes too.

Si:Hey!

Me:Evil ways…

The car rolled to a stop in front of the convention center. A doorman opened my door for me, holding up his white-gloved hand to help me out. Time to put on my game face. A good plan given Adair walked up on me as I straightened my dress.

She gasped. “What are youwearing?” It didn’t bother me because I’d already planned for this reaction.

Rather, I replied, “It’s nice to see you too, Mrs. Parker.”

“Why would you wear that here? Are you trying to pick up a date?”

Uh… Was that an insinuation? Was she calling me a prostitute? “It’s not like you gave me any warning. I had to find something in my closet.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “It’s too late to do anything about it now.” Then she turned around to walk back into the venue and I took that to mean that I needed to follow her. “If you’d stayed at the hotel, there’d have been time,” she tacked on under her breath.

“You can’t wear that!” Emily shouted at me when she saw us. “You look like a streetwalker… Adair, she looks like a streetwalker.”

“The dress is cashmere.” I defended myself and my wardrobe choice.

“Great, so you’re a high-priced call girl. That makes me feel so much better. And there’s just so much of you,” she said and I blanched because they were the ones who insisted I show today. “My husband is running for president. This is a disaster.”

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