His grin widens and he reaches out to grab an absolutely scandalous handful of my ass. “Just trying to keep up with you, baby.”
I shriek and smack him away playfully, but the fire in my cheeks is lit and it’s not going anywhere now. I get the feeling it’ll be there for the rest of my life.
I’m wearing a slip dress in deep red, on purpose, because Susan Oglethorpe once told me it was brave, brave, brave, and I have decided that one of the small ways I will carry her with me is to wear red, in winter, in summer, in alleys, in cemeteries, at weddings. I hope, wherever Susan is, that she’s resting well.
Speaking of the Oglethorpes, Caroline is somewhere in this crowd, too. I look around and clock her near the cake table, in a lilac green jumpsuit, talking politely with one of Chad’s firehou
