Kate continued walking away, and the rest of the group began placing bets among themselves on the fate of the ice sculpture.
“What do you think?” Matt asked Kennedy. “How long until that frosty jawline of yours becomes a puddle?”
“I bet a hundred bucks the frown will be the last to go,” Lara said.
“I don’t think anyone would take that bet,” Ian said.
“Will you excuse me a moment?” Kennedy asked, too distracted to respond to their ribbing. He walked away before any of them could reply.
The pink of Kate’s dress made her easy to spot in a sea of the usual New York black. She was talking to a server carrying a tray of champagne, who nodded at something she said. Kate was on the move again before Kennedy could reach her, and he followed her across the room to a table, where she spoke to a burly man behind it wearing a chef hat and holding a carving knife.
He reached her just as the man handed her a plate with a slice of damn good-looking roast beef. “Thanks, Larry.”
“My pleasure,” the man said in a voice higher than Kennedy would have expected for someone built like a linebacker. “You know, this is the first time I’ve worked the USDA prime beef carving station at a dedicated slider bar, but it seems to be a big hit.”
“Yeah, well, the birthday boy’s got a thing for French dip sandwiches. This is the closest I could get while still counting it as cocktail-party-friendly finger food.”
Kennedy froze. She knew his favorite food?
Kate picked up a roll, then pointed at one of the bowls of sauces. “Is that the extra-hot horseradish or regular?”
“One on the left is hot; right is regular. The little signs labeling them had a Chardonnay-related incident. Someone’s getting replacement cards now.”
“Perfect,” Kate said, dolloping a small scoop of the sauce on the right onto her plate. “Regular for me. Who needs the assault on the senses with the hot stuff?”
“It wakes you up,” Kennedy said.
Kate looked over her shoulder, not looking the least bit rattled by his presence as she sucked a bit of sauce off her thumb. “Oh. Hey. What wakes you up?”
He nodded at the dishes. “The extra-hot horseradish sauce.”
“Oh, right. The devil sauce,” she said, taking a napkin off the table.
“Listen, Kate, I—”
“Kennedy! There you are!” He turned toward the interruption and saw Claudia coming his way, dressed in a short navy dress that showed an impressive look at her long legs. He’d thought the dress slightly overkill when he’d thought they were just going to an early dinner with her parents, but it made sense for a party at a trendy rooftop bar.
Strange that a brief glimpse at a sliver of Kate’s thigh resonated with him more than the near entirety of his girlfriend’s legs.
“Hi, Kate!” Claudia said with a friendly smile before turning to Kennedy. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you! I should have known the second we walked in, we’d both be swooped into the crowd. I feel like I’ve barely seen you.”
She pressed her mouth to his, and Kennedy dutifully pecked back.
“You love it, right? Tell me you love the party. Kate warned me surprises weren’t your thing, but everyone says that, and I thought, What the hell. You do like it, right?”
Kennedy caught the note of nervousness in her voice and smiled to reassure her. “Of course I like it. Thank you. I was actually just about to dive in to this spread.” He gestured at the carving table.
Claudia glanced over. “Right! That was Kate’s idea.”
Kate lifted her slider in silent acknowledgment, her cheeks full of the sandwich.
“You know I don’t really like red meat, but Kate said you were allergic to shellfish, and we had to feed you something, so . . . good?”
“Yeah. Really good.” As he said it, he looked at Kate, who merely watched him as she chewed.
“Okay, let’s go take a pic with Mom and Dad really quick, ’kay? Then you can dig in and eat all of the roast beef you want, promise. Do you think your parents would be in it?”
“You want a picture of . . . both our parents?” Kennedy asked, trying to ignore the faint warning bell in the back of his head.
“Are you kidding? They’d love it,” said the very last person Kennedy wanted to see right now.
“Hey, Jack,” he said as his brother draped an arm around his shoulders and clinked the neck of his beer bottle against Kennedy’s cocktail.
“Happy birthday, big bro. Did he tell you we’re all embarrassingly close in age?” Jack asked Claudia. “Kennedy is thirty-six, John’s thirty-four, I’m thirty-two, and baby Fitz will be thirty next month. Our parents were busy, am I right?”
“Can we not?” Kennedy said, his appetite fading. “Also, let’s not forget that of the four of us, you were the only accident.”
“Happy accident,” Jack said, unfazed as he took a sip of beer. “Very happy for everyone.” He glanced over, then did a double take, his smile turning flirty. “Well, well. If it isn’t Kate Winslet.”
“You’ve got till midnight,” she said, swallowing, then taking another bite of sandwich.
“Till what?”
“Till the Titanic references expire.”
“Chicks dig it, Smalls.”
“I’ll definitely take Smalls over Winslet.” She smiled at Jack, who smiled back, and Kennedy looked between the two of them, slightly aghast. Nicknames? No. Just no.
Claudia tugged his arm. “One picture, babe, I promise.”
“Yeah, babe. Don’t worry,” Jack said as Claudia started to pull Kennedy away. “I’ll keep Smalls company.”
Yeah. That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.
7
Saturday, March 30
The dress? A hit. The new hairstyle? Pretty darn good, given that it was Kate’s first time styling her hair herself without the superpowers of the salon’s blow-dryer.
The shoes? A massive failure. She was no stranger to high heels, but she usually had a two-and-a-half, maybe three-inch limit, and she’d decked out all of her work stilettos with about fifteen different cushions to prevent blisters and the agonizing pain of her current situation.
Kate rested her elbows on the cement railing perched several stories above ever-bustling 42nd Street and tried to look casual as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, giving each foot its break in turn.
A seat would have been preferable, but since this was a cocktail party instead of a seated dinner, chairs were limited, and a woman sitting alone on a chair rubbing her feet was just a little sad. At least this way she could pretend to be looking at the view.
And there was nothing sad about her evening, thank you very much. In fact, it was the best party she’d been to in a long, long time.
Kate was never a wallflower, per se, but even when she was in the middle of things, she often felt on the periphery. She was well aware that she wasn’t the one who sparkled. She was the one who always had a bobby pin, a safety pin, a breath mint, to make sure other people sparkled.
Tonight, though, she’d felt at least a little sparkly. Whether it was the pink dress itself or the confidence she’d felt when she walked into the room, for the first time in her life, she’d felt like people saw her. And though she hadn’t been able to resist keeping an eye out to make sure everything went smoothly, she did so because she wanted to, not because she had nothing else to do and no one else to talk to.