Page 43 of The Vegas Rerun
“Don’t worry,” he says, leaning in conspiratorially. “I hated that suit. Mind you, I like this one and I’ve seen what you can do with a single jug of milk. I dread to think what you can do with a whole bowl of dip so please be careful.”
We laugh and although I’m still a little bit embarrassed, he’s put me at ease, and I relax a bit. It’s a good thing because relaxed me is pretty good at touching things and holding them but flustered me is a whole different story. I manage to make it from one end of the buffet table to the other, helping myself to the food, without dropping anything, spilling anything, or knocking anything over. I don’t congratulate myself just yet though. That comes when I get back to the table without dropping my plate.
The food is delicious, and Joshua and I fall quiet for a little bit as we eat. When we finish, I offer to go up to the bar and get us some more drinks. I go up and order a white wine for myself and a scotch for Joshua. I turn to go back to the table when a woman in a pair of grey pants and a black top stops me. She has brown hair with a few bits of grey showing around her hair line, but her face is pretty much wrinkle free and it’s hard to place her age.
“It’s Molly, isn’t it?” she says, and I nod my head. “I’m Norma, Joshua’s aunt on his father’s side.”
“Oh hi, lovely to meet you,” I say.
“And you,” she says, and she smiles at me. “Has Fran got you two married off yet?”
“Not yet,” I say.
“Give her time,” Norma says. “I guarantee you she has already picked a venue, a color scheme and what she will wear in her head.”
“It’s a bit soon for that kind of talk,” I say with a laugh, trying to let her know that’s not happening, but without sounding abrupt.
“That won’t stop Fran. Joshua never brings people he’s seeing to family events, so you must be pretty special, and she’s not letting you go,” Norma says. “How long have you two been dating then if it’s too soon to be thinking of marriage anyway?”
I’m at a loss for words for a moment. Up to this point, everyone has assumed that Joshua and I are dating, and I’ve just let them think it. Now though, if I give any sort of timeline, I’m openly lying to this woman’s face and that feels wrong as she seems really nice. But if I say we’re just friends, or worse, work colleagues, it kind of blows Joshua’s whole getting his mom off his back about dating thing out of the water. I’m saved from having to answer as Joshua sidles up beside me.
“I thought you got lost,” he says.
“No, I was just talking to your aunt,” I say.
“I was just asking how long you two have been dating,” Norma says.
Fuck. She’s not letting this go. Joshua doesn’t seem to have the same qualms about lying to her as I have though.
"Oh, we’ve been dancing around each other for years," he says smoothly, his hand resting on the small of my back. "It was only a matter of time for us really."
His words send a thrill through me, even though I know they’re just for show. Still, when his aunt sighs dreamily and tells us what a lovely couple we make and then walks away from us, I glance up at him, shaking my head.
"Fancy lying to your aunt like that," I say.
He grins.
"But did you see how happy that made her?" he says.
I roll my eyes, but I can’t help the way my heart stutters in my chest. Because for a brief moment, I wish this wasn’t just pretend.
“Anyway, it wasn’t really a lie was it. Three years we were apart, but we found each other again,” he says. “And before you say we’re not dating, like I said, it’s just a matter of time.”
I don’t know what to say to that, but I like how it sounds, and I let myself just enjoy the moment. I hand Joshua his drink and we go and sit back down.
Unlike other christening parties I’ve been too, this one doesn’t dissolve around six o’clock. Oh no, not even close. Around that time, the children are ushered off with nannies or babysitters and then a DJ turns up and the party really starts. The drinks keep flowing, a whole other course of food is served, and the dancing goes on until late.
“Come and dance with me,” I say to Joshua.
He shakes his head.
“I’m not much of a dancer,” he says.
“And I’m not much of a fake dater, but here we are,” I say. “At least make it fun for me.”
“What, you don’t think my charming company is fun enough?” he says.
“I mean it’ll do I guess, but a dance would be better,” I grin.
