Page 38 of This is Why We Lied

“Hey.” Will lowered his voice again. “What kind of name is Bitty?”

“It’s a nickname.” Sara knew that Will’s dyslexia made his understanding of certain wordplay difficult. “Probably a variation on itty bitty. Because she’s so small.”

He nodded. She could tell the explanation had made him think about Dave, the purveyor of nicknames. Both of them had been glad the nasty prick hadn’t shown up at cocktails. Sara didn’t want Dave’s shadow to extend into their night. She placed her hand on Will’s thigh. Felt the muscle tense. She hoped this dinner didn’t drag on. There were better things to eat.

“Here we go!” Mercy came out of the kitchen with a platter in each hand. Two teenage boys followed her with more platters and sauce bowls. “The starters tonight are a selection of empanadas, papas rellenas, and the chef’s famous tostones, made from a recipe perfected by his mother back in Puerto Rico.”

There were lots of oohs and ahhs as the dishes were placed along the center of the table. Sara expected Will to be panicked, but the man who thought honey mustard was too exotic seemed surprisingly okay.

She asked, “Have you tried Puerto Rican food before?”

“No, but I looked up the sample menu on their website.” He pointed to the different offerings. “Meat inside of fried bread. Meat inside of fried potatoes. Fried green plantains, which are actually bananas, which are technically a fruit, but it doesn’t count because they’re fried twice.”

Sara laughed, but she was secretly pleased. He really had chosen this place for her, too.

Mercy went around the table filling water glasses. She leaned down between Chuck and her brother. Sara watched Mercy’s jaw tighten as Chuck mumbled something. She was the embodiment of a woman whose skin was crawling. There had to be some history there.

Sara turned away. She was determined not to get wrapped up in other people’s problems.

“Mercy,” Keisha said. “You mind swapping out our glasses?”

Drew looked annoyed. “It’s okay, really.”

“No problem.” Mercy’s jaw tightened even more, but she managed to twist her lips into a smile. “Be right back.”

Water splashed onto the table as she picked up the two glasses and walked back into the kitchen. Drew and Keisha exchanged sharp looks. Sara guessed caterers were just as incapable of turning off their picky catering brains as medical examiners and detectives. And plumbers’ daughters. The glasses were clean. The spots came from the mineral deposits in hard water.

“Monica,” Frank said, but quietly. He was loading her plate with fried food, trying to get something into her stomach. “Remember the sorullitos we had in San Juan at that rooftop bar overlooking the port?”

Monica’s eyes seemed to come into focus as she looked at Frank. “We had ice cream.”

“We did.” He held her hand to his mouth for a kiss. “Then we tried to dance the salsa.”

Monica’s expression softened as she looked at her husband. “You tried. I failed.”

“You’ve never failed at anything.”

Sara felt a lump in her throat as they stared into each other’s eyes. There was something so poignant between them. Maybe she had misjudged the couple. Either way, it felt like an intrusion to watch. She looked up at Will. He had noticed, too. He was also waiting for her to start eating so that he could.

Sara picked up her fork. She speared an empanada. Her stomach grumbled, and she realized she was ravenous. She’d have to be careful not to get too full because she was not going to be the woman who went into a food coma the first night of her honeymoon.

“Mom!” Jon burst through the doors. “Where are you?”

They had all turned at the racket. Jon didn’t walk so much as stagger across the room. His face was bloated and sweaty. Sara would guess he’d had almost as much to drink tonight as Monica.

“Mom!” he bellowed. “Mom!”

“Jon?” Mercy rushed out of the kitchen. She held a glass of water in each hand. She saw the state of her son but kept her cool. “Baby, come into the kitchen.”

“No!” he yelled. “I’m not a fucking baby! You tell me the reasons! Now!”

His words were so slurred that Sara could barely understand him. She saw Will turn his chair from the table in case Jon lost his balance.

“Jon.” Mercy shook her head in a warning. “We’ll do this later.”

“The fuck we will!” He walked toward his mother, his finger pointing in the air. “You wanna ruin everything. Dad has it planned out so we can all be together. Without you. I don’t wanna be with you. I wanna live with Bitty in a house with a swimming pool.”

Sara was shocked when Bitty made a noise that sounded almost like triumph.

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