Page 90 of Ecstasy
Cory’s sad brown eyes are wide, and he runs a hand over his thin hair. He’s wearing a golf shirt, pale pink like Mom’s shirt and the stupid cake, and I see his golden wedding band on his stubby finger.
Mom surpasses him in looks but considering he’s a nuclear engineer—and he’s got the small little glasses on his face to prove it—I don’t think she minds much. It’s his money she wants to join with hers, not their hands in holy matrimony.
“Where are you going?” she asks me, trying to keep her voice polite because Eli is by my side, still holding my hand. She catches sight of it and clears her throat, but before she can say another word, Eli interrupts.
“Sorry, Ms. Rushing,” he glances at Cory who swallows nervously, “but Zara isn’t feeling well.”
I want to twist around and glare at him because I don’t give a damn if my mom knows I’m bailing. In fact, I want her to know. That’s the whole fucking point. But if Eli’s lie will get us out of here faster, then fine.
I twist my face into a grimace and clutch my stomach with my free hand, looking at Cory because he’s the weakest link. “Stomach bug.” I flash Mom a tight smile.
My mom shoots daggers my way while Cory covers his mouth with his fist and coughs, then slides his hands back into his khaki pants, his little belly straining against the brown belt around his waist. He’s a little taller than Mom, which means he’s a lot shorter than me, and Eli, well Eli could fit three Corys into his frame.
That thought is morbid enough to make me laugh—thanks, punch—and I quickly cover my mouth with my hand.
I think Mom must assume I’m about to blow chunks because she takes a step back, her golden strappy sandals clicking on the floor. God forbid I vomit all over her at her wedding party.
The thought is amusing.
“Well, Zara,” Cory says, adjusting his glasses, “if you aren’t feeling well, then please do rest up and—”
“No!” my mom protests, shaking her head and cutting off Cory’s words. “This is ourwedding—”
“When did you get married?” Eli asks politely, my hand still over my mouth to keep up the charade.
Mom’s words die on her tongue as she turns to look at Eli, and it seems like she’s trying very hard to keep her expression polite. When she meets Eli’s green eyes, it becomes a little easier for her. I can see the way she’s affected by him. I am, too, and I imagine most women are.
It’s probably why he gets so many girls without any effort at all.
I think about him sleeping with Rihanna’s friend last night and I genuinelydofeel queasy.
“Yesterday,” my mom answers him with a tight smile, smoothing down her shirt again. And again, Cory adjusts his glasses. Their nervous tells.
I squeeze Eli’s hand a little harder, and he returns the pressure, but doesn’t look at me.
“Congratulations,” he offers, and he sounds sincere. Wow, he’s such a good bullshitter. “I’m just going to get Zara home, and I am sorry we have to leave early, Ms. Rushing.” He nods to Cory, correctly assuming his last name when he adds, “Mr. Rushing.”
Cory looks mighty pleased with himself. “I’m sorry you aren’t feeling well, Zara,” he says, then looks to my mom and puts a hand on her shoulder.
My mother moves away from his touch and sighs, but she’s glaring at me. “Feel better, Zara.”
Cory turns to go but Mom hangs back and then she says, “I’m sorry, Zara.” She looks up at Eli. “Take care of her,” she nearly whispers.
Eli’s fingers tighten in mine. “Of course, Mrs. Rushing.”
All I can manage is an eye roll.
28
Zara
As soon aswe get back inside Eli’s car, I turn to stare at him. “Take me for a drink now, please.”
He laughs, reaching for his seatbelt. But before he puts it on, his phone rings through the Bluetooth in his car.
I see a string of numbers flashing on the center screen, an area code I recognize as Raleigh.
He presses a button on the steering wheel, answering the call with a quick glance toward me.
