“You look incredible.”
“What a transformation.”
“You must give me your trainer’s information.”
Maya smiled the smile she used at difficult parents and underfunded bureaucrats. Warm enough to pass. Cool enough to end things quickly. “That’s kind of you.”
Taylor stayed close without hovering. Every now and then his hand brushed her elbow or settled briefly at her back as he steered them through conversations. He introduced her not as an accessory but as if her presence mattered to the sentence. This is my wife. Maya works in community advocacy. Maya knows more about housing insecurity than anyone I’ve met. Maya will tell you if your philanthropy model is nonsense.
The first time he said that last one, she nearly choked on sparkling water.
Later, while a string quartet performed something tasteful near the stage, one of the same women from the previous gala approached, smiling with too many teeth.
