19. Cory
Chapter nineteen
Cory
D enise leans across the table of refreshments to snag the last White Claw, and I grip my beer tighter. She came dressed as Storm, her braids loose and painted silver, tempting me each time they dip into the ample cleavage exposed by the leather corset of her bodysuit. Thankfully, my Goku costume leaves enough room to hide the half chub I've been sporting since she got here, but even that won't be enough to hide my response to her if she keeps leaning over like that. God, she's gorgeous.
She's so gorgeous, in fact, that when she asked to wait until after the party to take our relationship public, I actually agreed. Apparently, Adam proposed at last year's party, and she didn't want to give people the wrong idea if we came together. I hate hiding my feelings for her, but I'm also painfully aware that one wrong move could send her running again.
Tiffany reaches past me to load her plate with cake eyeballs and crescent rolls shaped like witch hats. Dry ice in the punch bowl releases a light fog over the table.
"Mama Park, you really went all out!" Tiffany gushes around a mouth full of crescent roll.
Mom waves a dismissive hand while reloading the platter of Jack-o'-lantern empanadas.
"How many times do I have to ask you to call me Marie?" she huffs.
"Enough to drown out decades of home training," Tiffany chuckles. "And even then, I'd have to pray my mom never found out."
Because I'm still low-key staring at her, I see when Denise laughs and nudges Tiffany's elbow.
"I'm with you," she whispers. "As far as I'm concerned, Mama Park's first name is 'Mrs.'."
Mom rolls her eyes at them good-naturedly, then makes her way through the crowd back to the kitchen. I don't know why she bothers. No one with any sense would call their elder by their first name unless they want a pop to the mouth. That my strong, feisty, take-no-shit girlfriend is so respectful towards my mom is another major turn-on. Mmm. Girlfriend . She might not want to use the label, but that won't stop me from using it in my head.
I turn to scan the room before she catches me smiling at her.
"Don't tell me she's going to get more food?!" Tiffany exclaims. "She must've made every single thing on the Good Housekeeping website!"
Adam walks up arm in arm with Maya. They're dressed as Shang Chi and Shuri from Marvel. Did I miss the memo about wearing a comic book-themed costume?
"Taste of Home, actually," Adam says. "Plus a few recipes from The Pioneer Woman. She's been planning the menu for the last two weeks."
He kisses Maya on the cheek and pops a mummy in a blanket into his mouth.
"And she wouldn't even let me help," Maya pouts, though I saw her slip a tray of pumpkin cookies onto the refreshment table when she first arrived.
Maya can throw down in the kitchen, especially her baked goods. She's brought more than a few treats along since she started coming to our weekly family dinner. My favorite so far was the red velvet cake. I must've had three slices. If I ever decide to follow my baby brother down the aisle, Maya might have to make the wedding cake.
You're getting way ahead of yourself, don't you think, buddy? Especially since your girl doesn't even want to be seen with you in public? Hell, she barely wants to admit she's your girl.
I chug the rest of my now warm beer and start towards the patio for some air when Henry and Camila—The Crow and Wednesday Addams—burst through the front door. Both have on pale makeup that is noticeably smudged around the mouth and sway slightly, like this might not be their first party of the night.
"Guess who passed the bar!" Henry shouts, lifting Camila's hand and shaking it like she's a prizefighter. The party erupts in cheers and people make their way over to congratulate the woman of the hour, whose face has gone redder than the fake blood on the cupcakes.
"Congratulations, young lady," Dad says with a raise of his glass. "Bannister, Banks, Smith with her silver braids, she looks like a woodland nymph or a fairy. As irresistible as she is, she might be a succubus.
"Mind if I get a drag?" I ask, making my way over to her. She offers the joint in reply.
The pungent smoke fills my lungs and I hold it briefly before blowing upward and away from Mom's sensitive nose. I haven't gotten caught smoking weed in the backyard since high school, and I don't intend to start now.
"So, did you see? Henry just proposed to his girlfriend, Camila."
Denise's lips thin and she nods.
"I saw."
She doesn't elaborate, and a knot forms in the pit of my stomach. Shit. I guess she doesn't know the woman, but plenty of complete strangers just oohed and aahed after witnessing the proposal. Camila's about to become Denise's best friend's sister . What does it mean that her first reaction was to leave the party to get high?
"Are you not a fan of weddings or something?" I ask with a smile, though the space between my shoulders feels like a rubber band about to snap.
I hand back the joint, and she takes a long pull before answering.
"They're OK, I guess." She exhales, blowing the smoke upward just as I did.
"I never really thought much about weddings, diamond rings, or frilly white dresses," she continues. "I'm not even sure if I want all that stuff. My parents had a huge wedding; my mom used to talk about how they spared no expense. How it was like something out of a fairytale. They even had their wedding photo blown up and hanging above the mantle." She takes another quick drag and frowns. "None of that kept our family together when things got tough, though."
I take the joint from between her fingers and hide my sigh in a puff of smoke. I know it's too early to be thinking about this kind of stuff—I'm not crazy. But, if things keep progressing with Denise as I hope they will, it might come up in the future. Way, way, in the future, after she at least lets me call her my girlfriend.
"I'm sorry your parents got divorced. That sucks."
"Oh, they didn't get divorced," she corrects. "Losing Andre broke them.
"They always gave him more attention—he needed it," she rushes to add. "Run of the mill teen angst and student fashion shows hardly compared to problems that required meds and hospitalization." I can hear the bitterness in her voice and my heart aches. She takes back the joint.
"Once he was gone, though, there wasn't enough left of them to bother with me. It didn't help that I showed up to the funeral wasted, embarrassing them in front of all their fancy friends. But I was hurting," she finishes in a broken whisper. She clears her throat, trying to compose herself.
"God, I always forget how emotional this strain makes me." She shakes her head and hands me back the joint.
"My parents had the dream wedding, the 'white picket fence' life, but once Andre was gone, they didn't bother trying to salvage what was left of our family. We're basically strangers now."
I blink a few times to keep the moisture in my eyes at bay. No wonder us getting close has her running scared! Her family, the people who were supposed to be there for her no matter what, her first example of what real love looks like, completely abandoned her.
As much as my brothers annoy me, and Mom and Dad sometimes push me a little too hard, they're my family. I'm pretty sure nothing could make them give up on me.
Before I can come up with something comforting to say, the backdoor opens.
"Oops," Maya says, looking embarrassed. "I didn't mean to interrupt."
Denise snatches the joint from my hands and quickly stomps out the butt before moving towards the door.
"You weren't interrupting anything, girl," she says without looking back. "Just came out to enjoy the scenery for a bit."
Maya looks doubtfully at Denise as she brushes past her through the door, then at me, still standing in the far corner of the yard. I give her a little salute and head inside myself, hoping we came across as casual when I know we were probably standing too close to pull that off.
"The patio's all yours," I say with a bob of my head. She quirks an eyebrow but says nothing.
Something tells me Denise is going to have to explain what Maya saw. I just wish that didn't mean lying about us.