The Shameless Hour (The Ivy Years #4)

“Likewise.” Bella’s mother beamed at me. “Did you two just get off the train?”

The question put me on my guard, because it made me wonder if she was trying to figure out whether or not I was a Harkness student. Maybe I’m paranoid, but the only other Hispanic dudes in this room were pouring water into the drinking glasses. It was hard not to get a chip on your shoulder sometimes.

“Rafe lives in my entryway,” Bella said, perhaps reading the same thing into the question. “And we have a class together. Urban Studies.”

“Lovely,” Lydia said, seating herself again.

“Here, belleza,” I said, using a Spanish word for “beautiful” which had the same root as Bella’s name. If she were my real girlfriend, that’s what I’d call her. I pulled out Bella’s chair with a small flourish.

She gave me the wide eyes as she sat down. “Thank you.”

Bella’s mother — Lydia — asked us a couple more polite questions about school, while Jack nodded along blandly. A band started up in the opposite corner of the room, and we all turned to look. It was a nine-piece band and when they began to play, Bella’s mother reached for her husband’s hand. “You’ll dance with me, won’t you Jack?”

He held up his empty scotch glass. “I was going to make a trip to the bar.”

She stood and smiled at him. “You can do that after we foxtrot.”

With a weary chuckle, he stood. “It’s a deal.”

I watched them move toward the dance floor, Mr. Hall taking his wife’s hand gamely enough. He had it pretty good, I thought. When I was sixty-five, with two grown kids, I hoped my wife would still want to dance with me.

Bella took a big gulp of her wine. “Brace yourself. Here comes my sister.”

I turned to see another beauty approaching. Bella’s sister was too thin, though. She looked angular in places where Bella was soft. Her smile wasn’t as genuine as her sister’s, either. And it was hard to get a fix on her age. She probably wasn’t that much older than Bella, but she carried herself stiffly, like somebody’s uptight auntie.

“Hi, Isabelle,” she said, leaning in for a kiss on the cheek. She went for both sides, too, which caught Bella off guard.

“What, are we European now?” she asked.

Her sister’s mouth got tight. “I haven’t seen you in forever, that’s all.” She looked to me as I rose from my chair to shake her hand. “I’m Julie,” she offered.

“Rafe. It’s a pleasure.”

“The pleasure is mine,” Julie insisted, picking out a seat and tossing her little purse on the table. “I never meet Bella’s friends anymore. She’s never around.”

Beside me, Bella seemed to grit her teeth. Her wine glass was empty, and that wouldn’t do. I stood. “Julie, you don’t have a drink, yet. Can I make a run to the bar for you?”

Julie tilted her head to the side and smiled at me. “Aren’t you sweet. I’d love a glass of chardonnay.”

“One chardonnay and…” I put a hand on the back of Bella’s neck. “Another cab?” I picked up Bella’s empty glass.

She looked up at me, and there was a glimmer of hesitation in her expression. “Don’t be a stranger.”

I leaned down and kissed her forehead. “I’ll be right back,” I whispered in my best (fake) boyfriend voice. It was an easy role for me, because when given the chance, I was a good boyfriend. The kind people weren’t afraid to bring home to mom.

Five minutes later I returned to find that Bella and her sister were still the only two at the table. Bella’s sister was giving Bella chapter and verse on some point of public health policy, while Bella listened with a half-interested gaze. Maybe a rescue was in order.

“So, are we going to dance?” I asked.

“I’m not much of a dancer,” Bella said, picking up her fresh glass of wine.

“Bella doesn’t like activities that you have to stand up for,” her sister said.

I actually choked on a sip of my wine. Either Julie had just made a blatant attack on Bella’s character, or else she had no sense for innuendo.

But Bella looked unfazed. “Actually, Julie, upright fucking is pretty awesome, especially against a wall. And I know Tucker likes it.”

Her sister gasped. “For one night can you not act like a crazy bitch? When will you stop?”

“When someone listens,” Bella said, her voice flat.

Whoa. I practically had whiplash from the sudden turn this conversation had taken. And then it changed again, because Mrs. Hall returned to the table alone, a fresh glass of wine in her hand. She sat down between her two daughters, seeming not to notice the fact that they were staring daggers at each other.