Page 71 of The Someday Daughter
Silas and Sadie stayed back at the house, but Mags is here with Mick and Cleo. The book clubs never get recorded; usually Mom and I go to them alone. But this one’s high-profile enough for photography and social media support, apparently. Plus Mags, flitting around like some kind of Botoxed fairy godmother to make sure everyone has enough canapés.
Puddles greets us at the door when we get back to the house, all snuffly enthusiasm. Cleo picks her up and her sun-yellow nails disappear into Puddles’s folds.
“Hello, angel,” she says, kissing Puddles directly on the nose before holding her out to me. “Look who it is. Your mommy’s home.”
I narrow my eyes but she just smiles and deposits Puddles into my arms. Instantly, my black dress is covered in fur. This dog is a glitter bomb.
“Hey!” Silas calls from the living room. He stands as we come closer, a paperback in one hand. “How was it?”
“Fantastic,” my mother says. She’s pulling off her heels, one hand on Magnolia’s shoulder for support. “They had this incredible croquembouche covered in caramel sauce, Silas, your sister would havelovedit. I wanted to bring some home for you to try, but they were all out by the end of the evening.”
I think of what Silas told me about his sister back in Chicago, her penchant for baking. That he must have told Camilla that story, too—and that she remembered it.
“Hey.” Sadie’s voice precedes her down the hallway. She’s in a hoodie and leggings. “Did any of you grab a book from the kitchen this morning? Trying to pack up and I can’t find it.”
I swallow, fight the fire rising to my cheeks.
“Which book?” Camilla says, lowering back onto her bare feet.
“Um.” Sadie blinks twice before smiling shyly and saying, “Yours.”
My mother laughs. “I haven’t seen it, but I’m flattered. And I’m certain we can get you another copy.”
Sadie glances at Silas before the rest of us. He shrugs, and she says, “Anyone else?”
“Nope,” Cleo says, and I manage to shake my head, and Mom declares, “I’m dying for a bath.”
The moment breaks, and as my mother disappears down the hallway with Magnolia, Sadie does the same.
Cleo looks between the three of us with her eyebrows raised. “Ocean skinny-dip?”
I feel myself go rigid, spine lengthening and shoulders setting. I narrowly escape outing myself as a kleptomaniac, and now this? Mick lets out a whoop and afuck yesthat’s so loud Puddles jumps. Her black nails skitter on the marble.
“Audrey?” Silas says, catching my eyes across the foyer.
And the thing is, I want to be this person. The one who goes to a honky-tonk in Nashville and tells her mother the truth and knows how to be fun in brave, public ways. But skinny-dipping feels like pushing the gas pedal through the floor of the car, and when I tap my thumb to my pinky finger Silas tracks the movement with his eyes.
“You know what,” he says, “you guys go ahead. I think we’re good.”
Cleo snorts, hooking Mick by the arm. “Yeah, I bet you are.”
My mouth drops open and Cleo shoots me an exaggerated wink, sticking her tongue out. By the time they cut through the front door I’m flushed all the way down to my toenails.
“Not so into public nudity, huh?”
I turn back to find Silas much closer, soft smile on his lips and his hand reaching for mine.
“Maybe we can work up to it,” I say.
He shrugs one shoulder. “If you want.”
“Thanks for being my out.” When I prop onto my tiptoes his face changes, an expression I’ve come to know well over the last few days. The way Silas looks right before I kiss him—like I’ve surprised him so entirely, like every time his lips meet mine it’s brand-new. Like even as it’s happening, he can’t quite believe it.
“Happy to be your out,” he says quietly as I lower back onto my feet. His hand is warm on my waist and when my eyes flick down the hallway his do, too.
“Help me take this dress off?” I ask, and Silas smiles.
“Audrey St. Vrain,” he says quietly. “Are you asking for help with your zipper?”
