Snark and Stage Fright by Stephanie Wardrop Page B

ridiculousness by doing a bad version of the twist with two of Michael’s six-year-old cousins, who thought it was hilarious and really threw themselves into it. We were practically drilling ourselves into the floor we got so low, and Michael laughed and joined in as his grandmother shook her white head and scowled at me.
    When the music slowed down, he took my hand and Catalina pouted a little before accepting an Endicott cousin as her partner.
    “How am I doing?” I whispered as we started to sway in rhythm with each other.
    “I’d say you are behaving exceptionally well tonight,” he said.
    “I meant how am I doing as a dancer. But I am glad you noticed that I managed to avoid insulting or coldcocking anyone so far. And I really like your cousin Peter. And Danny. Oh, and Margo.”
    “So you’re finding at least some of my extended family to be perfectly human—even likable, after all?”
    I nodded against his shoulder.
    He chuckled and rested his chin on the top of my head. “Remember our first dance?” he asked.
    “When you tried to warn me about Jeremy Wrentham. Your grandmother was glaring at me just as hard then.”
    He laughed a little, and I could feel it rumble up through his chest against mine. It felt good. It felt lovely to just sway there together under all the little twinkle lights and the candles. With the lights and all the white flowers, the room seemed to be glowing.
    “She still hasn’t forgiven my dad for marrying my mom,” he said.
    “Is that what your mom meant last night when she said that thing about the rich being different from you and me? From her and me, she meant?”
    “Yep. My mom is woefully middle class by birth.”
    “But she’s an artist. Doesn’t that count as being cultured, at least? And she’s the most elegant person I know.”
    “I agree,” he said.
    “Your grandmother approves of Rose’s wedding, though, and Sterling. He’s from ‘good people’?”
    Michael laughed again. “His name is Sterling Bancroft Whittaker the Fourth and he works for JP Morgan Chase, so yeah, I think he passes. But just barely.”
    I looked up at him and he was looking down at me and he touched his lips to mine and held them there for a moment. I felt an electric shock run up my sternum, but I demurred. “I don’t think we should have any PDA on the dance floor, not after last night. I don’t want a crowd gathering around us worried that I’m going to deck you, too.”
    “I’d like it if you were a little more shameless with me.” He laughed.
    I tossed my head and said as lightly as I could, “Your tongue and I have already been formally introduced, if you recall,” and that produced a kind of growl from deep in his throat that made me shiver.
    “Let’s go,” he whispered into my neck. My breath caught somewhere between my lungs and the top of my throat. “Let’s go now.”
    I nodded, startled by his urgency, and as the song ended, he smiled and announced to anyone who happened to be listening, “I could use some fresh air,” and soon we were outside walking down a path toward the town beach. He stopped at the crooked, rickety fence made of wire and skinny little gray wooden posts that separated the sand from the scrubby grass and the parking lot. I looked out at the day’s last beachgoers in the twilight, families and older people and a couple of teenagers in board shorts and T-shirts, and asked with mock alarm, “Mr. Endicott, what do you take me for? What do you plan to do with me at a public beach?”
    “I have a few ideas,” he purred and kissed me so hard I had to steady myself but I didn’t want it to stop. It felt so good to feel his body so close to mine and to know and feel how much he wanted me, still, after all the things that had happened.
    “I just want to be alone with you,” he urged in a newly husky voice. “Somewhere. Is that okay? I mean, after last night, with Forrest, you don’t feel … I don’t know … ”
    Three kids zoomed by on