A vanity mirror reveals a blotchy, red face. I wonder if it’s too late to plan that escape Luke was talking about earlier. I run my fingers through my hair and catch Alex’s gaze in the mirror. He runs a hand through his own, messing up the carefully combed strands. He has no right to say anything about Luke and he knows it.
All these years, I’ve been so clever; protecting myself from the loss of someone I loved by not allowing myself to find it. Damn him for getting under my skin this way, for making me hurt.
As I walk past him, he reaches out and gently takes my hand. His thumb lightly rubs across my knuckles. “I wanted something of my own, before I couldn’t…” He tries to explain.
I train my eyes on the door in front of me. “I didn’t.”
The door opens easily, and I leave him behind.
Chapter Nine
Twenty-Seven Days Until the Bridesmaid’s Brawl
“How many plates does a person need?” Aunt Patsy never mastered the discreet whisper, so this is loud and clear to all.
Paige thanks the gift-giver, a pretty brunette I’ve never met before. She hands the plate over to Cadence who is carefully recording each gift in a linen-wrapped journal. I wince at the thought of my gift being recorded.
*
Black lace bra and matching thong – Charlotte Davies*
I grabbed the wrong package in my rush this morning and brought her bachelorette gift instead of the crystal picture frame I’d purchased for the shower. Cadence was not amused.
I console myself with the knowledge that Ken will get more enjoyment out of my gift than the
His
and
Hers
hand towels the Maid of Honor presented.
At least I’m wearing my new dress today. According to the sales girl, the green and white chevron pattern is amazeballs. I’m not a hundred percent sure what that means but my boobs look fabulous in it. After my run-in with Cadence at the dance hall, I decided I wasn’t going to show up underdressed to the country club for the wedding shower. I want to be perfectly accessorized when I pull her hair out.
“Thank you, everyone.” Paige gets to her feet. “I’m so grateful you could make it on such short notice.”
Snickers erupt from the crowd. Aunt Jolene pats her belly and winks conspiratorially at me. I’ve already told them Paige isn’t expecting but they don’t believe me.
“Honey,”
Brook said,
“We got six divorces between the three of us. Trust me, that dress is gonna be tight.”
The aunts flock toward Paige, leaving a trail of Georgio perfume in their wake. They take turns hugging her fiercely and marking up her perfectly made-up face with gaudy lipstick in various shades of puce. A striking woman of nondescript age with thick, white hair slides up beside me. “Are these the infamous aunts?” she whispers discreetly.
“They are indeed,” I reply.
“They look like a lively bunch. Should we spike the punchbowl and see if we can’t inject some life into this party?”
I grin, surprised at her playful tone. Given the quality of her clothing and the heavenly scent surrounding her, I assume she’s one of Ken’s lot. I was under the impression they were all old bores, more concerned with the cost of the floral arrangements than the happiness of the future bride and groom.
“I’m Charlie.” I hold out my hand and she takes it immediately.
“Trish. And you’re just the girl I was looking for. I hear you’re responsible for all these lovely desserts.”
The compliment washes over me from head to toe. “I am, yes.”
“Tell me.” She pulls me away from my family. “Did you really make those raspberry-chocolate macaroons everyone’s fawning over?”
“I really did. I’m so glad you like them.”
“Darling, I positively devoured them. I haven’t had anything that good in my mouth since junior year of college.”
I gasp. “You never.”
“Oh honey, I assure you I did. He’s a state Senator now but I hear he still speaks rather fondly of me whenever he passes through Dallas.” Her wink isn’t clumsy like Jolene’s. It’s subtle and seductive. “What would you say to a glass of brandy? I’ve been dying for a drink all day but these fuddy-duddies won’t play.” She casts a glance around the room at the mingling Chamberlain clan. They’re all dressed in muted pastels with stiff summer hats clinging defiantly to their teased Texas up-do’s.
“Okay, but I’ll buy.”
She waves me off. “I won’t hear of it. You’d be doing me a favor. And anyway, it’ll be more fun if we just steal it. C’mon, I know where Raul hides the good stuff.”
She takes my arm and leads me to the bar. It turns out, Raul and Trish are old pals and he sits the drinks before us with no charge. The brandy is spicy with a strong undercurrent of blackberries. I sip slowly, savoring both the taste and the company. Trish knows all the country-club gossip.
“See that woman over there? The one that looks like Cruella de Vil?” She points to a woman in a black and white hounds tooth suit. Her mostly white hair is feathered upward; some black strands of youth still cling on desperately.
I nod.
“Her husband’s gayer than a Cher impersonator at a Madonna concert. They’re
both
sleeping with her Pilates instructor.”
“No… together?”
“That would at least be
something
, but they carry on like the other doesn’t know a thing about it. He’s quite a nimble fellow from what I gather. A pleaser.”
The Cruella lookalike eyes a passing waiter with enthusiasm.
“And that one over there.” She points to a full-figured woman lingering around the cake table. “She likes to lick the silverware.”
“Oh no, I’ve heard about her,” I whisper.
Her smile is devious. “What kind of lunatic do you have to be to want to put other people’s flatware in your mouth?”
My ribs ache as I shake with laughter on my stool.
“I guess you can’t buy normal, even with all the money floating around this place.”
Trish is a pleasant surprise on a day I was otherwise dreading. Having to attend all of Paige’s pre-wedding festivities while pretending to be okay with her decision to make Cadence Maid of Honor is hard enough. Add in the pressure of preparing the many delicate desserts she requested and driving them to Dallas with the aunts chirping in my ear, and I was a complete train wreck by the time we hit the North Central Expressway. Plus, the tension between Cadence and me is almost unbearable. Whether she orchestrated it or not, she’s standing in the way of any future I may’ve had with Alex. I’m not sure I can ever get over that.
Trish grabs the hand resting on the glass in front of me. A green emerald, the size of her knuckle, sparkles beneath the track lighting. “Are you okay?” she asks.
Maybe it’s because she sounds so sincere, or maybe I just need someone to talk to, but I find myself wanting to tell her everything. “No, not really.” My chin wobbles dangerously. “I fell for the wrong guy and got my heart stomped on.”
She nods, an understanding look in her eye.
“The course of true love never did run smooth.”
I raise an eyebrow at her.
“Shakespeare,
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
. The future Senator played Lysander to my Hermia. Boy, but he could act.” Her eyes close to see some delicious memory. A small smile etched on her lips. “Being in love is a wretched business.” She opens her eyes to regard me seriously. “It’s not all engagement parties and bone china, you know.”
“I know, believe me.”
“So, what happened? Was he cheating on you with the Pilates instructor?”
“Not exactly.” I look somberly into my glass and take another sip of brandy. “He was sort of cheating on someone else, with me. Only I didn’t know.”
“Ah. He’s a worthless cad. Did you end things right away or get drawn in by some empty promises?”
“The truth is he never made me any promises. He’s not a bad guy really, he’s just…”
“Confused?” Her eyes narrow in suspicion.
My lip quivers and I pull on it with my teeth. “I knew it was doomed from the start. Literally from almost the first moment I met him. We’re from two very different worlds.”
“Star crossed lovers, huh? How very romantic.” Her words are wistful.
“I know. It’s such a cliché, but he got under my skin and now…”
“You can’t get him out? I’ve been where you are, darling. I know Shakespeare wouldn’t approve but I rather think romantic love doesn’t serve much purpose outside of a sonnet. Undying devotion is a pretty theory, but we humans are hard-wired to disappoint one another.” She shrugs. Her expression says,
‘What can you do?’
“So, have you put a stop to it or do you still hold out hope he’ll choose you in the end?”
That’s the big question. My heart isn’t ready to give up all hope yet, but my better judgment tells me to make the same decision I made two years ago and walk away. I smile vaguely, warm and sleepy from the brandy.
Trish gets to her feet and squeezes my shoulder with a bejeweled hand. “Have you ever heard the expression, if you love something, set it free?”
“Of course.”
“Utter bullshit. Forget the plays and go straight to the punch. Fight for what you want. Don’t let anyone talk you out of it or take it from you.”
I turn in my seat and follow her with my eyes. She moves gracefully across the room. For the first time in more than a week, I feel good. An insurgence of strength and hope runs through me. Is it possible Trish is my fairy godmother? Do fairy godmothers wear Channel and Louboutins?
I should tell Cadence about the pear lying on the carpet. I should clear my throat and say,
“Be careful, there’s a pear in your path.”
But really. Who am I to stop fate?
Cadence’s right foot, wrapped in an exquisite lavender pump, comes down full-force on the un-ripened fruit. The gift boxes stacked neatly in her arms sway dangerously then pitch all around, landing with dull thunks on the plush gold carpet. Her arms spin like pinwheels, trying to find something to hold onto.
My conscience gets the better of me and I jump forward to help. Only she falls back, spinning as she goes. The fabric belt of her cream-colored dress slips through my fingers.
Silence falls like a curtain over the room. The initial, “Ohhh…” from the crowd fades as Cadence lifts herself off the cake. A soft ‘plop’ is distinguishable as chunks of Chantilly cream slides off the front of her dress. More than one society lady puts a hand to their mouth. She’s covered in the confectionary. Pieces of strawberries, raspberries and blueberries cling to the areas thickest in cream. Someone hands her a napkin but she doesn’t take it. Her blue eyes move from the tips of my shoes up to my face.
Oh shit.
“You,” she says in a guttural tone, lunging for my shoulders. Her bottom lip juts out in fury.
I take a step back, stunned by her reaction. The secretary of the Junior League is gone and a pit bull has replaced her.
“You tripped me!” She manages to grab my shoulders, digging her nails into the amazeball fabric.
I push her hands from me. “I most certainly did not! You tripped over a piece of fruit.”
“Which you dropped on the ground in front of me!”
Technically it rolled off my plate. But I’m not sure now’s the time for splitting hairs. “I didn’t mean to.” I back away from her.
We’re moving in a circle. The guests have unconsciously gathered around us, forming a wall of pink and peach taffeta.
“You just couldn’t stand it, could you?” She advances on me.
I totter backwards on low heels. “Stand what?”
“That Paige asked me to be Maid of Honor and not you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Why would I be mad my only sister didn’t ask me to be her Maid of Honor?”
“Ha.” A crazy smile claims her face. “I knew it. You’re jealous of my relationship with Paige.”
Paige steps forward, her rose-pink bridal sash hanging limply off one shoulder. “Both of you. Stop this right now,” she commands and places a hand on both our arms.
We shake her off and continue to stare each other down.
A few strands of golden hair have come loose from Cadence’s elegant twist. Between that, her wide smile and her wild eyes, she looks like a certifiable lunatic.
“You’re the one who’s jealous.” My body hums with pent up anger. “You had to manipulate my sister into making you the Maid of Honor because without her you’d be on your own.”
“No manipulation necessary. Paige knows she can rely on me. Besides, I’m not really on my own, am I?”
My chest tightens uncomfortably.
“I’ve already got someone else you care about. Don’t I?” Cadence lowers her voice.
Paige shifts uncomfortably beside me.
“And in a year’s time,” she hisses, “it’ll be your sister at
my
side as I walk down the aisle and marry the man you love.”
Her words draw physical pain. Grief pushes my chest forward.
“The hell you say.” Brook steps from the onlookers, her hand on her hip in a redneck warning. “Baby, you better walk away right now,” she says to Cadence, a clear threat in her voice.
Cadence blinks. “Excuse me?”
“I said,” Brook struts forward, “you best shut your mouth, and walk away.”
“Or what? You’re going to assault me?”
Jolene and Patsy join Brook, each wearing the same feisty expression.
“Assault?” asks Jolene. “Naw, that word’s too big for us country folk. We’ll just stick with a good old-fashioned ass kickin’.”
I hold up my hand to stop them. My aunts’ support, however misguided, gives me the strength I need to fight this battle on my own. “I got this.” My focus remains on Cadence. “You listen and you listen good.” I advance on her now. “Ever since I met you, you’ve been mean and nasty. You put me down, put my family down, and you think you can get away with it because your Daddy’s rich. Well let me tell you something, Miss Delta Gamma, you ain’t got nothin’ on me.”
Cadence’s face shifts to uncertainty and she takes a step backward.
“I may not have a fancy house or expensive things, but I’ve got a family that loves me. They would never sell me off like a piece of cattle for their own personal gain. And my sister may’ve made you Maid of Honor at her wedding, but she’s my blood and you’ll never be able to break that bond.”