“You’re kidding!” Nina cried. “That’s great.” She smiled at Leah as she laid her cheek on Michael’s shoulder. “Isn’t my boyfriend cute?”
That remark made Leah forget she was holding a glass of wine, which she promptly spilled on the hem of her dress and all over Trudy’s sparkly shoes. The heat of her stupidity and embarrassment began to bleed into her neck and face. “That’s great,” she said, but she was looking at her dress. Oh God, she could die, she could just die. Someone bury her here, right now, right away. She felt like an old woman, an old, stupid, dull woman, and desperately grabbed the hem of her dress and lifted it slightly. “Will you look at what a klutz I am? I better go do something about this,” she said, and forced a laugh.
“Get some soda water,” Nina suggested.
“Yeah, I’ll do that.”
“Leah,” Michael said, but she was already moving.
“Don’t worry, I’ll get it out,” she said cheerfully, and walked away before she absolutely passed out from mortification and shame.
She hurried through the crowd in the living room thinking she had just played out the scene from every bad movie broadcast on Lifetime.
“Hey, Leah, where are you off to?” Ted called after her as she hurried past, headed for the door.
“I ah . . . I spilled some wine,” she said.
“I’ve got some red wine remover. Let me get it—”
“No, really, I probably ought to just go,” she said, opening the front door. “It’s silk.” As if that made a difference somehow. “Ted, the party was great. Thanks for inviting me.”
“You’re not leaving. We’re just getting started,” he exclaimed, following her out. “Why rush off? Try the stuff I have and see if that doesn’t work.”
She turned around to look at him, saw Michael making his way through the crowd after her.
“You know, I would, but I have an audition tomorrow,” she said, lifting her hand.
“On a Sunday?”
“Yep. Gotta jet!” she said, and with a wave, ran down the lawn, chanting ohshitohshitohshit in her head. She practically threw her token at the kid and asked for her car.
BEHIND her, Michael was aware that Nina was following him out, too—mainly because she kept calling out his name and trying to get him to stop. It was wrong, what he was doing, so damn wrong, but he couldn’t make himself stop. He was being propelled by a force outside of his realm of control at that moment. He pushed through the crowd, finally making his way outside, right behind Ted, who was trying to coax Leah into staying.
It wasn’t working, but Michael could have told him that—Leah could be very determined when she wanted to be. And there she was, standing on the curb, leaning far to her right to see around cars and up the street.
“Leah!” Michael shouted.
She jerked around at the sound of his voice, and he could see the panic and mortification in her eyes.
“What is going on?” Nina asked, bouncing to a stop next to Michael. “Did you guys have a fight or something?”
Michael didn’t respond immediately—he was distracted by a few revelers who had come outside to see what was going on. “I just want to make sure she’s okay,” he said.
Nina looked at Leah standing on the curb and peering anxiously up the street for her car, and her brows dipped into a frown. “She looks okay to me, Michael.”
Yeah, well, Nina didn’t know her. Michael started forward again. “Leah, wait!”
“You know what this reminds me of?” he heard a woman say behind him. “Sex and the City. They’re still running it on HBO.”
He strode out of their midst. “Michael!” Nina angrily shouted after him, but he kept walking.
It was enough to get Leah’s attention. She glanced over her shoulder, saw Michael marching down the lawn, and turned around, apparently resigning herself to the fact that she was going to have to face him.
“Michael, I have to go,” she said extending her arm to keep him at a distance. “Just . . . just go back inside with Nina,” she said, fluttering her fingers in Nina’s direction. “She’s great. You’ll be very happy with her.”
“What did you mean when you said you weren’t shiny?” he demanded, ignoring her order for him to leave.
Leah’s mouth dropped open. Then closed tightly shut.
“What did you mean?” he demanded again, moving closer to her extended hand.
“I didn’t mean anything—”
He wasn’t letting her off that easy. He was going to hear it this time and no uncertainty or wishy-washiness from her was going to stop him. He needed to hear that she loved him before he could begin to think what to do. “Yes, you did. What did you mean?” he asked again, pushing her hand aside and moving and leaning forward, so that his face was directly before hers.
She recoiled slightly. “Shiny,” she repeated, waving one hand. “Bling-blingy.” When he didn’t bite, she anxiously ran a hand over her crown. “Just . . . shiny,” she said again, only softer.
Michael leaned even closer, locking in on her eyes, her mouth. “Shiny as in sweaty? Or shiny as in your full heart shining through?”