Page 53 of The Paradise Problem

“I’d forgotten the date, since we never see you together,” Mom says, “and when Charlie reminded us tonight, I just thought, ‘Oh, we must have a party!’ ”

“We have a trip planned,” I lie. “Anna and I will make a big deal out of it together, but we don’t need anything else, truly.”

“It would mean a lot to your father and me. He insisted we add something to the wedding itinerary.”

I laugh. “Mom, it’s already packed.”

“We can squeeze in another party.”

“There’s no—”

Anna cuts me off. “Janet, that would be amazing. Thank you. There are never enough celebrations in life, isn’t that right?”

My mom turns her eyes on Anna as if she’d forgotten she was here. “Especially on someone else’s dime, I suppose!”

Ice-cold mortification washes me out. “Mom.”

She lightly smacks my arm. “I’m just teasing her. I mean, truly, why not fold it into the wedding festivities? It’s a great idea, and Charlie wouldn’t mind sharing the spotlight.”

Anna is flushed red, visibly humiliated.

“Mom,” I say, “you suggested it. She’s just agre—”

“Liam,” my dad cuts in, suddenly appearing at my side. “Son, I need you for a minute. I’ve got the senior editor of Forbes over there—”

“Ray, honey,” Mom says quietly. “Do we have to do this tonight? It’s a party.”

“I’m holding a glass of champagne,” my father says irritably. “What the hell else do you need me to do?”

“That’s my husband, always working. Even at his only daughter’s wedding…”

I smile with false warmth at my father, but my pulse is still thundering over what my mother did. “We were just talking about the anniversary party you want to throw us.”

Dad squints. “The fuck are you talking about?”

Mom threads her arm through his. “Raymond. Didn’t you hear Charlie just now? Liam and Anna are coming up on five years married.”

My dad snorts into his champagne glass. “Call me at twenty. If you’re still sharing a bed, then we’ll throw you a party.”

“Oh God,” Anna exhales. Against me, she’s shaking from the tension.

Mom does a double take when a catering cart passes, full of some non–Weston brand soft drinks. “Mystic Cooler? Not on my fucking watch,” she growls, stalking off after it.

“Liam.” Dad claps a hand on my back. “Follow me.”

He turns without waiting and I look down at Anna and her thousand-yard stare.

I reach for her chin, tilting her face to mine. “Hey. You okay?”

Our eyes meet and when she nods, I see how this must be for her. Raised alone by her father, who, I can tell from the way she talks about him, wouldn’t dream of answering even the stupidest of her questions with “The fuck are you talking about?” Would never in his life gaslight her the way my mother just did.

But then, her eyes clear, she straightens, and puts on a brave smile. “I’ll be fine. I’ll go find Blaire or Jake.” She sends her hand down my arm, squeezing my fingers. “Go.”

Without thinking about it, I bend, giving her a soft, brief kiss on the lips. Before she can react, I speak into her ear: “You’re pretty good at this, too.”

Her breath shakes on my neck. “At what?”

“All of it.”

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