The First Taste (Slip of the Tongue #2) - Jessica Hawkins Page 0,147

it’s back to normal, I look around the backyard to see if there’s anything I can do and pause when I see one of the women staring at me from across the yard. Another one of Andrew’s admirers, I guess, based on the sour look on her face. Even though I’ve caught her clearly watching us, I’m the one who looks away first.

I find Sadie and Nathan at the picnic table, the only ones left eating, as all the kids have gone back to running around. I take the seat next to Sadie on the bench. “Who’s that woman?” I ask.

“Who?” Sadie asks between bites.

“Her.” I nod. “By the back gate.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Sadie says without looking, more fascinated by her potato salad. “I don’t know any of the moms.”

“Oh. I caught her staring at me, and she looked angry.”

“Angry?” Nathan repeats. “Why would anyone be angry? It’s a kid’s party—”

He pauses as he and Sadie meet eyes. They go completely still.

“You don’t think . . .?” Sadie asks him.

“I wouldn’t put it past her. She has a flare for—”

“Drama,” Sadie finishes, nodding. “We should’ve been on the lookout.”

“Lookout?” I dart my eyes between them. “What are you two talking about?”

Sadie turns. “Which woman was it?”

I sit a little straighter, searching the crowd. Her back is to us, so I point. “That one with the dark hair talking to Bell.”

Sadie drops her fork and starts to stand. “No. Where?”

I stand up too, alarmed. “Why? Who is she?”

“Shana,” Sadie and Nathan say together as they spot her.

“She really has some nerve—” Sadie steps out from behind the table.

“Sadie,” Nathan says firmly. “Stop. I’ll handle this. I don’t want you getting worked up—”

“No.” I lock my eyes on Shana. My breath comes faster. Adrenaline pulses through me. “Let me.”

Nathan holds out a hand. “I don’t think—”

Sadie grabs his arm and slowly, she smiles. Sadie has known me long enough to understand bitch-mode on my worst day will trump anyone’s on their best. “Let Amelia do it.”

I don’t even hesitate. In fact, when Shana bends over to get closer to Bell, I quicken my pace. This won’t happen. I won’t allow it. Bell is distracted by a classmate, who tries to get Bell to go play with her, but Shana won’t let her leave. When the girl pulls Bell’s arm, Shana reaches out and snatches her back like she’s a ragdoll.

My blood boils, my instinct to protect flaring up. “Excuse me,” I say when I’m close enough. I grab Shana’s forearm and remove her hand from Bell. “Can I help you?”

Slowly, Shana’s eyes travel up the length of me, stopping on my face. “Don’t touch me.”

“Bell,” I say, keeping my glare on Shana, “Dad needs your help with the cake. Why don’t you go find him?”

“Okay,” she says. I’m thankful when she skips off, completely clueless. I quickly check to make sure she’s out of earshot. Nathan grabs Bell and pulls her onto his lap before giving me a nod.

I return my attention to Shana. “You weren’t invited.”

Shana straightens to her full height. She’s shorter than me, but if I intimidate her, she doesn’t let on. “I don’t need to be invited to my daughter’s birthday.”

“You do, actually.”

“Look,” she glances behind me, presumably to make sure Andrew hasn’t spotted us, “I don’t know who you are, but that’s my daughter. I’m her mother. I love her, and you have no right to pull her away from me.”

I tilt my head at her. I work in PR. Bullshit is my business, and I can smell it a mile away. After everything Andrew’s told me, this chick’s bullshit is pinging off the charts. “I’ll walk you out.”

She reels back, whipping her eyes back to me. “Excuse me? Who the hell do you think you are?”

I cross my arms. “That’s irrelevant. You’re the one crashing the party.”

Her expression closes even more. “You don’t have to answer. I know who you are. Another one of Andrew’s toys, holding my place on the shelf until I return. Well, guess what, bitch. I’m back. You can go back to whatever hole you crawled out of.”

I almost want to laugh, her words are so unnecessarily full of rage. If she believed herself, she’d deliver her blows with class and confidence. But it’s clear to me Shana doesn’t possess either of those.

I remind myself that she’s likely feeling a mix of emotions—including guilt and shame—over how she’s behaved in the past and recently. “I understand you’re upset,” I say calmly but