Triple Love Score (24 page)

“Ah, you’re pregnant. I think you get a pass until the baby is like three months old. Then you get to be the evil daughter in-law who takes too much of her son’s attention and keeps the grandbaby all to herself.”

“I can’t imagine doing that!”

“Ah, you’ll find a way. Be imaginative.”

I
T TURNED OUT THAT Danielle did lie that day, about the hair and the make-up, at least. They slipped back into the kitchen and tried to make it upstairs to switch dresses undetected, never expecting the ambush of curling irons and eyeliner to be waiting in the guest bedroom. Their hair apparently needed to be increased in volume to match the skirts of their dresses. Even Jellie submitted to the torture, emerging like a Southern Belle on her way to a beauty pageant with her hair piled in a cascade of curls and loops and her dress, a miniature version of Miranda’s.

“Nice dress,” Miranda said to Jellie as they stood side by side watching how their skirts continued to sway back and forth even after they stopped walking.

Jellie smoothed her hands down the front. “It’s beautiful,” she said. “I can’t wait to dance in it.”

Lynn would love Jellie. She could see them racing off to the dance floor together and sharing a piece of cake. But it was foolish to think about Lynn that way. She wasn’t Miranda’s to think about. In her mind’s eye, the word mother was laid down across the middle of the Scrabble board. Then “maybe” off the “m” in mother. If she were home, she would use the foggiest filter she could find to capture it, maybe doing a second shot with the word Step added in.

Not even several months of Cross Fit would have prepared Miranda for properly holding the golden crown over Danielle’s head for the duration of the Eastern Orthodox ceremony. When Miranda’s arms started to tremble, Danielle smiled up at her and whispered an apology. But the ceremony itself was beautiful; even though Miranda didn’t understand a word of it—the symbols were clear enough. The rings, the wine, the circling the altar—each new moment caused tears to well up in Miranda’s eyes. She didn’t dare look for Scott in the pews. She kept her gaze focused on the stained glass of Jesus on the cross over the altar. The blood dripped from his body and blossomed into a rose bush that spanned all three panels.

Finally, the priest called, “Na zisete,” and everyone in the room erupted with applause. Omar gathered Danielle up in his arms and kissed her firmly. Miranda saw Selin blush, and then brush away a similar kiss from Omar’s dad. Miranda looked away, and then quickly back, just in time to see Selin give in. Miranda felt a pang of jealousy as she trailed behind the happy couple lost in the sea of relatives all speaking in Turkish.

The whole group spilled out onto the church’s front lawn and out into the street. They walked several blocks to a giant banquet hall on the banks of the river. The terrace overlooking the river was festooned with flowers and tulle bunting all in the same green as Miranda’s and Jellie’s dresses. Jellie caught Miranda’s hand and led her out to the dance floor where the DJ already played music that mixed current pop hits with traditional sounding beats and techno overlays. There seemed to be no formality; it was just a giant party. The crowd of people surged forward, spreading out over the dance floor and the rest of the terrace. Wine was opened and passed around. Waiters began circulating phyllo dough filled with all manner of savory delights. Tiny kebabs and pita with hummus came next. Luckily, Jellie liked dancing as much as Miranda did, though they did stop each time a new tray came circulating past. Miranda kept scanning the crowd for Scott, but to no avail. Instead, she grabbed a second glass of wine and kept dancing.

Finally, the caterers finished filling the banquet trays along one side of the terrace, and the DJ called everyone to the buffet. Danielle and Omar sat at a sweetheart’s table at the edge of the dance floor. They fed each other from plates Selin brought for them. Miranda looked at the empty tables, unsure where to sit. Before Jellie could pull her back out to the dance floor, Scott materialized.

“Sorry,” he whispered into her ear. “Lynn says hi. I had to call. Didn’t mean to miss the start of the party.”

“Here,” she said, handing him her wine glass. “Catch up then. Lynn is okay?”

“She’s great. Off the bunny hill and onto the big one, she said. I had to tell her all about the wedding. She’s hoping you get to bring this dress home.”

“You told her about the dress?”

“I texted her a picture.”

“Ugh!”

“No ugh. You are beautiful. Lynn agreed—she said you look like one of the Christmas Barbie dolls.”

“Nice. I guess I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Randa, I mean it. You are beautiful. Come, let’s find a seat.”

Miranda felt the butterflies fly up in her stomach. He pressed his hand against the small of her back and steered her toward a table with the other younger men friends of Omar and a few of Danielle’s students.

“You are her friend,” the one guy, who introduced himself as Ted said. “I will practice my English with you tonight,” he said.

“Leave her alone,” another one said, punching Ted in the arm. “And you’re name isn’t Ted.”

“It’s Ted when I speak English.”

“We’re going to get some food,” Scott said. “Be right back.”

Miranda collapsed in giggles against Scott’s chest as they waited in the buffet line.

“They’ve been going on like that all day. I keep hoping the wine will lighten them up, but it just seems to make them even more punchy. On the walk over, they were fighting about soccer. Before that it was whether or not a Ford is the best car. And before that it was something about a television program, a soap opera of some kind.”

“We don’t have to sit there,” Miranda said.

“It’s actually fun. And I don’t plan on sitting much. You will dance with me, right?”

“Are you asking?”

“Yes, I am asking. Will you dance with me?”

They loaded their plates with rice and grilled chicken and vegetables and more hummus and pita. “You remember the first time we danced?” Miranda asked.

“Avery and Stanton’s wedding. I guess I have a thing for girls in bridesmaid’s dresses.”

“Girls?”

“Well, you, really. I was so scared that night. You looked so grown up. I kept trying to figure out how you got older than me in one night’s time.”

At their table, the boys had cleared out already—they danced wildly to a hip-hop mix, pretending to break dance. Ted kept trying to spin himself around on his head.

“The whole time we danced, I was trying to keep my arms down, so you wouldn’t see the sweat circles. Satin in June is killer.”

“How about today?” Scott asked.

“All good,” she said, lifting her fork over her head. “They make better deodorant now. So, something else will have to embarrass me. Probably my dancing skills.”

“We could be embarrassed together then.”

Omar and Danielle finally took the dance floor as the DJ played a slow number Miranda recognized from her prom. The boys from their table paired off, and began dancing together in a mock slow dance, feeling each other up. Omar’s grandmother took her cane and swatted them off the dance floor. “She looks happy,” Miranda said.

“Who? The grandmother? I know, right? She’s been dying to hit someone with that cane all day.”

“Not the grandmother,” Miranda laughed. “Dani. She loves him so much. I can’t believe everything that happened to them.”

“Omar is a lucky man. He gets the whole package.”

“Whole package?”

“You know, the wife and the family. All together. It’s better that way.”

“I don’t know, you seem to be doing fine.”

“Fine, sure. But it’s lonely, Miranda. I want to share it with someone. I’ve really enjoyed being with you again. I missed this. It’s easy with you. I don’t have to explain everything—you already know the story.”

“It is nice,” Miranda said. “I can’t imagine why you believed them when they said I didn’t want to talk to you anymore. What made you think they could all of sudden speak for me?”

“Probably because at the time I didn’t want to talk to myself, either. I screwed up. I did know Cassadee because of drugs. In college, I thought that money in the bank meant you could do whatever you want—party all the time. Getting that job with the firm just meant more money. Then that one phone call changed everything. I learned really quickly how wrong I had been. You were too good for me and my messed-up life. I was embarrassed, I guess, and overwhelmed.”

“But I would have understood. I do understand.”

“I know that now, but I didn’t then. Do you forgive me?” He picked up her hand and kissed it.

“There’s no reason to. Come on, show me your dance moves. Surely you must have learned something worthwhile from all that partying.”

Scott stood up quickly and grabbed her hand. At the dance floor, with one deft maneuver, he spun her tightly against him with his hand on her waist. He kissed her cheek, then released her with a quick spin toward the other couples. Then he pivoted and pulled her back up against him.

“There,” he whispered into her ear as they swayed close together.

“There what?” she said, smiling up at him, delightfully dizzy like after getting off a carnival ride.

“That’s my dance move, that’s it. Just that.”

“That was pretty good.”

“Well, when you only got one move, it has to be good. For the rest of the evening, you are just going to have to enjoy the sway.”

“The sway?”

“Yup, you and me, side to side like we are on the deck of Linden’s sailboat and a storm is about to come in. Back and forth, back and forth.” He rocked her from side to side to exaggerate.

“Oh, do I get stay close to you like this?” She pushed her body against his, feeling the muscles in his thighs working.

He kissed the top of her head and slowed his motion. “I’d like it very much if you stayed right there.”

The DJ switched to a fast Turkish pop song, one that everyone seemed to recognize. The younger people exploded into wild moves with whooping and jumping. Scott steered Miranda to the side of the dance floor, but they didn’t release from their embrace. They didn’t stop for cake or for coffee. Or even when Jellie attempted to take their picture with a camera she stole from the photographer. Fast or slow song, they remained paired tightly together.

“So, you go back tomorrow,” Danielle said as they stood outside the reception hall.

“Yup,” Miranda said. “With a layover in Paris.”

“Paris, with your new boyfriend. You’re slow to start, but once you get going, you really roll.”

“I’m glad you’re over the shock and back to teasing me about my love life, old married lady. It’s just a layover, not some romantic vacation,” Miranda said.

“I’m going to miss you more now that you have been here. Before, being in Turkey was different from my life in the States, like a dream or something. And now it’s real. Really real.”

“You’re going to be a mom. That’s as real as it gets. I wish I could be here for that part. I’d like to see it.”

“I’m scared, Randa. Keep calling me, okay?”

“Of course I will. But only after your honeymoon.”

Omar stepped outside and cleared his throat. “Love,” he said. “The car is here.”

Miranda hugged Danielle tightly. “Enjoy your trip! At least you don’t have to worry about getting knocked up.”

“Very funny. I could turn that around on you, you know?”

Miranda winced. “Ouch,” she said. “Not yet, okay. I don’t even know if we’re dating.”

“Oh, you are,” Danielle said, turning to leave. She stopped at the door and picked up her bouquet from the table. “Here,” she said. “Catch.”

B
UT IT’S ONLY A LAYOVER,” Miranda said to Scott as they stood in the concourse looking at the departure board for their flight from Paris to JFK.

“Yes, a twelve-hour layover. In Paris. On New Year’s Eve,” Scott said. “You can’t tell me that you have not once entertained a single fantasy about being in Paris. Me, I want to go see the Mona Lisa. And eat a croissant. And get a new poster for my classroom. Maybe of the Mona Lisa and eat another croissant. Or a crepe.” He danced around in a circle. Miranda could clearly see where Lynn got her enthusiasm, though she danced much better.