The First Taste (Slip of the Tongue 2)

Before I can find out, Bell comes running up to us. She stops a few feet away as if she’s hit an invisible wall. “Dad?” she asks, uncharacteristically timid.

I go to pull away, but Andrew keeps me where I am. “You’re not interrupting,” he says. “Come here.”

She tiptoes forward, as if she might spook one of us. Her eyes dart between Andrew and me. “We have to, um, eat cake now. So I can open presents.”

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll go get it.”

“’K.” She turns around, pausing briefly to look at the grass.

“Bell,” he says.

She looks back.

“Are you okay?” Andrew shifts so his arm is around my shoulders again, and we’re no longer hugging. He holds out his hand to her. “Do you feel confused about this?”

She just stares at us.

“Listen,” he says. “Why don’t we all go inside and talk about it? We’ll answer any questions you have.”

After a few seconds, she slumps forward as if he’s asked her to call the whole party off. “Do we have to right now? I want to open my presents.”

He chuckles. “All right then. We’ll do it after.”

“Whatever. Go cut the cake!” She spins around and runs back to her friends.

Andrew and I exchange a glance. “I was hoping whatever wouldn’t start for a few more years,” he says.

I smile. “Oh, no. Whatever is a way of life, honey. It’ll only get worse.”

He laughs. “Maybe the whatever lifestyle is something you can take on. You know, to bond with her.”

I purse my lips. “We’ll see.”

He kisses the top of my head before ruffling it—to annoy me, I’m sure—and walks off toward the kitchen, leaving me alone, frantically trying to smooth down my hair. When it’s back to normal, I look around the backyard to see if there’s anything I can do and pause when I see one of the women staring at me from across the yard. Another one of Andrew’s admirers, I guess, based on the sour look on her face. Even though I’ve caught her clearly watching us, I’m the one who looks away first.

I find Sadie and Nathan at the picnic table, the only ones left eating, as all the kids have gone back to running around. I take the seat next to Sadie on the bench. “Who’s that woman?” I ask.

“Who?” Sadie asks between bites.

“Her.” I nod. “By the back gate.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Sadie says without looking, more fascinated by her potato salad. “I don’t know any of the moms.”

“Oh. I caught her staring at me, and she looked angry.”

“Angry?” Nathan repeats. “Why would anyone be angry? It’s a kid’s party—”

He pauses as he and Sadie meet eyes. They go completely still.

“You don’t think . . .?” Sadie asks him.

“I wouldn’t put it past her. She has a flare for—”

“Drama,” Sadie finishes, nodding. “We should’ve been on the lookout.”

“Lookout?” I dart my eyes between them. “What are you two talking about?”

Sadie turns. “Which woman was it?”

I sit a little straighter, searching the crowd. Her back is to us, so I point. “That one with the dark hair talking to Bell.”

Sadie drops her fork and starts to stand. “No. Where?”

I stand up too, alarmed. “Why? Who is she?”

“Shana,” Sadie and Nathan say together as they spot her.

“She really has some nerve—” Sadie steps out from behind the table.

“Sadie,” Nathan says firmly. “Stop. I’ll handle this. I don’t want you getting worked up—”

“No.” I lock my eyes on Shana. My breath comes faster. Adrenaline pulses through me. “Let me.”

Nathan holds out a hand. “I don’t think—”

Sadie grabs his arm and slowly, she smiles. Sadie has known me long enough to understand bitch-mode on my worst day will trump anyone’s on their best. “Let Amelia do it.”

I don’t even hesitate. In fact, when Shana bends over to get closer to Bell, I quicken my pace. This won’t happen. I won’t allow it. Bell is distracted by a classmate, who tries to get Bell to go play with her, but Shana won’t let her leave. When the girl pulls Bell’s arm, Shana reaches out and snatches her back like she’s a ragdoll.

My blood boils, my instinct to protect flaring up. “Excuse me,” I say when I’m close enough. I grab Shana’s forearm and remove her hand from Bell. “Can I help you?”

Slowly, Shana’s eyes travel up the length of me, stopping on my face. “Don’t touch me.”

“Bell,” I say, keeping my glare on Shana, “Dad needs your help with the cake. Why don’t you go find him?”

“Okay,” she says. I’m thankful when she skips off, completely clueless. I quickly check to make sure she’s out of earshot. Nathan grabs Bell and pulls her onto his lap before giving me a nod.

I return my attention to Shana. “You weren’t invited.”

Shana straightens to her full height. She’s shorter than me, but if I intimidate her, she doesn’t let on. “I don’t need to be invited to my daughter’s birthday.”

“You do, actually.”

“Look,” she glances behind me, presumably to make sure Andrew hasn’t spotted us, “I don’t know who you are, but that’s my daughter. I’m her mother. I love her, and you have no right to pull her away from me.”

I tilt my head at her. I work in PR. Bullshit is my business, and I can smell it a mile away. After everything Andrew’s told me, this chick’s bullshit is pinging off the charts. “I’ll walk you out.”

She reels back, whipping her eyes back to me. “Excuse me? Who the hell do you think you are?”

I cross my arms. “That’s irrelevant. You’re the one crashing the party.”

Her expression closes even more. “You don’t have to answer. I know who you are. Another one of Andrew’s toys, holding my place on the shelf until I return. Well, guess what, bitch. I’m back. You can go back to whatever hole you crawled out of.”

I almost want to laugh, her words are so unnecessarily full of rage. If she believed herself, she’d deliver her blows with class and confidence. But it’s clear to me Shana doesn’t possess either of those.

I remind myself that she’s likely feeling a mix of emotions—including guilt and shame—over how she’s behaved in the past and recently. “I understand you’re upset,” I say calmly but firmly. “I actually would like it if you and I could talk sometime in the future, once Andrew is ready, but this isn’t the place.”

She looks me up and down, scoff-laughing. “Why would you and I ever talk?”

“Because I’m Andrew’s girlfriend, and I’m not going anywhere. If you’re back in town, then there’s no way around it. We’ll have to figure this out.”

“Um, no. Sorry to break it to you, but Andrew would never go for you. He doesn’t like snobs.” She tries to step around me.

I block her path. “Say what you want about me, but I won’t let you near Bell without Andrew’s permission.”

She sighs heavily, rolling her eyes. “Okay. I thought you were joking at first, but seriously? I know Andrew’s type, and you’re not it. Maybe you’ve managed to get him into bed—that’s no great feat, even Denise pulled it off.” She checks my expression.

“I know all about Denise,” I say when it’s obvious she’s waiting for a reaction.

She raises her chin and continues. “But you’re deluded if you think it’s more than that. He and I have something special. He even admitted it the other night at Timber, when we had a drink, but even if he hadn’t, I’d know, because I know him. He misses me. He wants our family back together.”

Even though her words are meant to sting, they have the opposite effect. I’m relieved. Andrew could’ve not mentioned talking to Shana at the bar and it wouldn’t have been a lie—but he did. And because he did, I’m not blindsided and left questioning our relationship when I should be focused on reeling Shana in. r />

“You don’t know anything about the type of woman I am,” I say evenly. “If you did, you’d know manipulation doesn’t work on me.”

“Well,” she shrugs a little, “it does on Andrew, and that’s all that matters. He’ll be eating out of the palm of my hand in no time.”

Behind me, “Happy Birthday” begins, and I pick up Andrew’s baritone leading the song. I smile a little, bolstered by the fact that the longer I stay at this party, the less worried I am about a future here. Now, for instance, Shana is giving me even more reason to dig in my heels in and love Andrew. To protect Bell from getting hurt.

“All right, Shana,” I say. “We can battle it out if you want. But for your sake, I suggest you learn how to live in this new reality. Otherwise, it’s going to be a painful time for you.”

“And I’m sure you’re concerned about my life.”

“I am,” I say. “Very much so. Because you’re Bell’s mother.”

The singing stops, and I turn around just in time to see Bell’s eyebrows knit in concentration as she makes her wish. She blows out the candles at the same moment I feel Shana’s palms against my chest. I stumble backward but keep my balance, even in four-inch heels, because that’s the kind of woman I am.

She looks a little shocked as we stand there, staring at each other. Any urge I might have to retaliate sizzles out. I don’t think she meant to do it. A small part of me feels bad for her. I hope I never get to the point where I feel the only way I can make my point is by shoving someone while they’re not looking.

“Again,” I say, “it’s time for you to go.”

“You’re a terrible person,” she says, sounding less angry than miserable. “Trying to swoop in on another woman’s family.”