Page 5 of What You Wish For

It was going to happen someday. I knew it was. Maybe.

But probably not tonight.

After a very long pause, I said something I thought she’d like. “They adore you, you know. And Clay. They talk about you both all the time.”

But she just turned toward me with an expression that fell somewhere between offense and outrage.

“Did you just try to tell me how my own parents feel about me?”

“Um…”

“Do you honestly believe that you’re qualified to comment on my relationship with my own parents—the people who not only brought me into this world but also spent thirty years raising me?”

“I…”

“How long have you known them?”

“Four years.”

“So you’re a librarian who moved into their garage four years ago—”

“It’s a carriage house,” I muttered.

“—and I am their biological child who’s known them since before I was born. Are you trying to compete with me? Do you really think you could ever even come close to winning?”

“I’m not trying to—”

“Because I’ll tell you something else: My family is not your place, and it’s not your business, and it’s not where you belong—and it never, ever will be.”

Sheesh.

She knew how to land a punch.

It wasn’t just the words—it was the tone of voice. It had a physical force—so sharp, I felt cut. I turned away as my throat got thick and my eyes stung.

I blinked and tried to focus on the dance floor.

An old man in a bolo tie had cut in on Babette and Max. Now Max turned his attention back toward Tina and swung an imaginary lasso above his head before tossing it over at her to rope her in. As he pulled on the rope, she walked toward him and smiled. A real smile. A genuine smile.

And I—resident of the family garage—was forgotten.

Appropriately.

It was fine. I never danced in public, anyway.

That night, Max mostly danced with Babette. It was clear the two of them had done a lot of dancing in their almost four decades together. They knew each other’s moves without even thinking. I felt mesmerized, watching them, and I bet a lot of other people did, too.

They were the kind of couple that made you believe in couples.

Max lassoed a lot of people that night, and one of them, eventually, was me. I was surprised when it happened—almost like I’d forgotten I was there. I’d been watching from the sidelines for so long, I’d started to think I was safe—that I could just enjoy the view and the music without having to join in.

Wrong.

As Max pulled me onto the dance floor, I said, “I don’t dance in public.”

Max frowned. “Why not?”

I shook my head. “Too much humiliation as a child.”

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