Page 31 of The Paradise Problem

Her hand falls away. “That’s Anna motherfucking Green-hyphen-Weston to you.” She lets out a happy squeal, jogging over to hug him as well as she can without spilling the shots on either of them. “You look amazing!”

“Me?” He steps back so he can get a good look at her. “You look like a goddamn goddess, Anna.”

“Thank you.” She seems to resist the urge to tug her hem again.

The two of them walk back to me, and Jake looks over his shoulder to make sure we’re alone. “How are my favorite liars doing?”

“I’m nervous!” Anna whispers.

“You’re gonna be great.” He lifts his chin to the party going on behind him. “They’re all assholes.” My little brother hands me a drink. “She looks fucking gorgeous. You should stay married to her.”

I ignore this. “Shots, Jake, really?”

“Trust me, you’ll need it to get started in there. There’s a Time reporter inside who thinks Dad used to work for the CIA.”

“Good God, why does he think that?” Anna asks, waving off the shot when he offers.

Jake shrugs and does hers right after his own. “Because Dad told him that he did.”

“Wait,” Anna says, lowering her voice. “Did Ray work for the CIA?”

I laugh. “Of course not.” Lifting the shot glass to my lips, I toss the ice-cold vodka back and stifle a wince. How does one explain Ray Weston to a person like Anna, who lives fully in the real world? “Dad just talks shit. It’s his favorite entertainment. Having smart people believe his nonsense makes him feel like the smartest person in the room.”

She looks into the tent over my shoulder. “Well, that’s weird.” Her eyes go wide. “Oh. There’s a woman who just did a double take when she saw you two—she’s walking over here.”

“Describe her,” Jake says, leaning in, his hair falling over his forehead in thick waves. There are moments where I see the man he could someday be: playful but grounded, flirtatious but loyal, clever but humble. I want to know that version of him and worry he will forever be frozen in this caricature of the irresponsible youngest son as long as he works for Weston’s.

“Blond,” Anna says out of the side of her mouth, drawing my attention back to her. “Curvy and beautiful. Lots of gold jewelry. Wearing a very, I mean very low-cut dress. Lotta boob happening.”

Jake and I look at each other and grin. “Blaire,” we say in unison.

“Alex’s wife?” she asks.

I turn and look. “Yes.” My sister-in-law waves excitedly and I lift a hand, smiling. I like Blaire, even if she’s a little batty, handsy, and boozy. But in a world full of people who wear many masks all the time, Blaire is the one woman who says exactly what’s on her mind. It’s hard not to respect that, even when the kinds of things she says are—

“Well, hello, you little fuckboys!” she calls, and pulls me into a hug, pressing her boobs hard into my chest, her hands moving uncomfortably close to my ass. The first time she did this in front of Alex, I was so rattled I had to excuse myself to go get some fresh air. I’m not sure she’d actually have sex with me or Jake if given the opportunity, but I’m also not sure she wouldn’t.

Over her shoulder, I see Anna clocking this odd greeting with a bemused frown, and when I manage to extricate myself, Jake has leaned over and is whispering something in her ear. Anna gives a quiet “ohhh,” and then nods. “Right, okay, I remember.”

Hopefully she remembers, too, that if the question is whether we’re down for a threesome with Blaire, the answer is unequivocally no.

“Anna,” I say, “I’d love to introduce you to my sister-in-law, Blaire. Blaire, this is my wife, Anna.”

My voice breaks on the word wife. The sound of it seems to ping-pong around the small circle we make, but thankfully Jake doesn’t say anything, and Anna follows Blaire’s lead, accepting her air-kisses with a smile. “It’s really nice to finally meet you.”

“You, too, honey,” Blaire says in her Dallas twang. “Liam’s been keeping you all to himself for so long!” She cups Anna’s face, and for a second, I worry she might lean in and kiss my wife on the mouth, but instead she just looks at her for a few beats longer. Finally, Anna’s eyes slide to me, like help.

I sidle up to Anna, putting my arm around her shoulder, and Blaire steps back. “She’s a pretty one.”

“That she is.” I look down at Anna and we share a brief “look at us rolling with it” smile. And it’s possible I like how her shoulder feels in my cupped palm. “Where’s Alex?” I ask, though I don’t really care where Alex is.

Blaire shrugs, not bothering to look behind her. Blaire doesn’t care where Alex is, either. “Somewhere in there talking about work, drinking whiskey, or measuring dicks.”

Anna barks out a bawdy laugh before covering her mouth with her hand. “Sorry,” she says from behind it. The diamond on her ring flashes in the flickering light. “That surprised me.”

Blaire looks at her with new eyes. “Oh, I think I like this one.” She takes Anna’s hand, tugging. “You’re coming with me.”

I resist, keeping my grip on Anna’s shoulders. “Where are you taking her?”

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