Cassie had helped, though. Too much, maybe. Erin felt better every time the other woman smiled at her. Being rude to Cassie on the phone at Thanksgiving was supposed to put an end to any possibility between them. Erin should’ve left it at that. She should’ve been okay with Cassie thinking she was a bitch. It’d be smarter than whatever they were doing now. Because they were doing … something. Even if Erin wasn’t sure what it was. All she knew was it felt dangerous every time their eyes met. Like a lit match. Their eye contact was combustible.
It was better, with a houseful of people. Erin was busy. People arrived at various times, with boisterous hellos as they unwound scarves and pulled off gloves. Those who brought food or drink handed it off to Erin, who did her best to arrange both the table and the refrigerator so nothing would tumble to the floor. Adam showed up at two thirty with the ham and an apology for being late. Erin let it roll off her like water off a duck’s back.
She should have been too busy with hostess duties to pay Cassie much attention, but you know what they say about should. She told herself this was a hostess duty, too, the way she checked on Cassie from across the room. She saw her tucked away in a corner, chatting with Lila, then later, hovering around the table, picking at the finger foods instead of getting herself a plate. She saw the back of her head, more than anything, which was probably good. Cassie didn’t need to notice how often Erin’s eyes found her in a room so crowded Erin had taken off her cardigan barely an hour into the party.
After popping more sausage balls out of the oven onto the serving platter, Erin finally made herself a plate—figs and shrimp puffs and some crackers with a whole slab of Brie. She didn’t get any ham. The punch was getting low, but she gave herself a break instead of immediately refilling it.
Looking at Cassie wasn’t even intentional this time—it was just that her gloomy face stood out against the animated conversations happening around her. Cassie looked like she wanted to be anywhere else. Erin was being a good hostess by letting herself be pulled into Cassie’s orbit. She couldn’t have one of her guests be so obviously displeased.
She sidled up next to her and offered her plate. “Shrimp puff?”
Cassie took one.
“How you doing?” Erin said because she didn’t know how to ask what was wrong.
Cassie shrugged. When Erin furrowed her brows, the other woman said, “Could be worse. At least no one has complained that the floors aren’t mopped.”
Erin’s cheeks heated. “Be quiet.”
Cassie grinned, her eyes twinkling more than the lights on the Christmas tree behind her. Erin’s blush deepened. She hadn’t even added any alcohol to her punch. Her skin buzzed just being near Cassie.
“Anyway,” she said. “I should go refill the punch.”
She fled to the kitchen. It was cooler there, no one else’s body heat multiplying around her. Erin took a breath. Before she could get it together, Cassie was there, arms crossed, hip propped against the counter. She must have gotten warm, too—somewhere along the line, she rolled the sleeves of her flannel up to her elbows. Erin focused on opening the ginger ale to make more punch instead of on Cassie’s forearms.
“Is everyone here?” Cassie asked. “Is there anyone missing?”
“People arrive at different times,” Erin said. “Most of these people will filter out and others will show up. There aren’t many who stay the whole time.”
Rachel usually did, but she’d headed to Puerto Vallarta after Hanukkah and had been having an intense fling with a local bartender for the past week. Erin was getting regular text updates with more information than she needed.
“Oh, I just wondered if anyone saw that the sidewalk wasn’t perfectly shoveled, got offended, and left.”
Cassie couldn’t keep a straight face, a teasing smirk breaking through as Erin laughed and shoved at her shoulder.
“You’re rude.”
“I’m just pointing out that I was right. No one cares what your house looks like. They’re here for the company. And maybe the food.” She grabbed another shrimp puff off Erin’s plate and popped it into her mouth.
Thank God Adam came in before Erin could overthink and be mortified at the way she’d shoved Cassie’s shoulder. It felt childish, and obvious. Like pulling someone’s pigtails on the playground.
Erin was grateful for the interruption, but she hoped Adam hadn’t noticed the way she took a giant step backward upon hearing his voice. She hadn’t realized they had been standing so close. She went back to the punch while Adam resumed a conversation he’d apparently begun earlier with Cassie.
“I’m serious about the recommendation,” he said. “I’d be happy to write you one. It would help to have someone outside of academia speak up for you, and I’m happy to say I’m somewhat well-known.”
Erin rolled her eyes as she added lemon juice to the ginger ale–cranberry juice mix. Adam and his fucking opinion of himself.
“I think it’s probably more important to have someone who knows my work and what I’m like,” Cassie said.
Erin recognized the forced politeness in her voice. She’d had to use the same tone plenty of times when talking to men in medicine.
“I don’t know—I write a mean recommendation letter.” Adam chuckled. “And I know being female will help you when it comes to admissions, but you need more than the diversity boost.”
The cap of the lemon juice bit into Erin’s hand as she tightened it with more force than required. Surely her ex-husband did not just say that.
“You’re not going to get into Caltech just because you’re a girl. If we could—”
Erin absolutely could not let him say one more word. “Adam?” He looked at her like he hadn’t realized she was in the room. At least that meant he didn’t notice how close she’d been to Cassie earlier. “Can I talk to you for a moment?”
She didn’t wait for him to reply, just turned and walked into the pantry that connected to the kitchen. She squeezed her fingers into fists to keep her hands from shaking.
Adam followed eventually, and Erin whirled on him as soon as he was in the small room.
“What are you doing?”
He took a step back. “What do you mean?”
Erin pressed her lips together and flexed her fingers wide. “Did Cassie ask you for a recommendation letter?”
Adam narrowed his eyes. “I offered.”
“Seriously, Adam?” Erin’s voice snapped, and it was probably too loud—Cassie could be listening, the door to the pantry not fully closed.
“What? I’m not supposed to offer to help our daughter’s friends now?”
This conversation was every reason Erin divorced this man. His calm, arrogant certainty.
“You’re not supposed to talk to a woman you barely know and assume you know better than her what she needs.”
“It’s not that I know better than her—”
“You’re right,” Erin said. “You don’t. Especially if you’re going to act like she can only get into graduate school because she’s a woman.”
Adam scoffed and Erin wanted to strangle him.
“If the two of you would just listen—”
“Do you even know what she wants to study?”
Adam did what he’d done every time Erin won an argument their entire marriage: he held his hands up like she was attacking him and his voice went all faux ingratiating.
“Fine, fine,” he said. “I won’t push it … but if she ever wants a letter of recommendation from an industry-wide known engineer, give her my number.”