She, Myself & I (39 page)

“Good, that’ll give you a reason to go find out what’s going on with those two,” Sophie said.

I climbed the stairs again, walked down the hall, and knocked softly on the door before pushing it open. Zack was holding Paige close against him, and her head was turned and resting on his shoulder.

“Um, sorry . . . I just forgot my shoes,” I said, bending down and retrieving the strappy sandals from just inside the door.

Paige turned and looked over her shoulder at me, and she had a soft, dreamy expression on her face. “I’ll be down in a few minutes,” she said.

“Take your time,” I replied, and then retreated.

Sophie was waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs. Aidan was with her, holding Ben, who looked handsome in a blue poplin Ralph Lauren romper that almost exactly matched the oxford shirt his daddy was wearing. Aidan had his free hand tucked around Sophie’s waist, and she was leaning against him.

“So, what’s happening up there?” Sophie asked, her face bright.

“I think all is well. They were hugging. And Paige looked . . . peaceful,” I said.

“Yes!” Sophie said, pumping her arm.

“I’m going to be the only one here without a date, aren’t I?” I said glumly.

“You can be Ben’s date,” Aidan offered.

“Gee, thanks,” I said.

“Don’t worry, I have you taken care of, too,” Sophie said.

“What did you do?” I asked.

“Vinay! Over here,” Sophie called out, waving her hand.

I turned to see who she was looking at, and saw a tall man wearing a khaki poplin suit over a crisp white shirt, open at the neck, walking toward us.

“Is that . . . ,” I started to say, and then stopped, glancing at Aidan.

“Hi,” Vinay said. A caterer holding a tray of mini crab cakes high over his head passed by us, and Vinay stepped closer to me to get out of his way. His sleeve brushed against my bare arm, and I could just barely discern the spicy scent of his aftershave.

“Vinay, this is my husband, Aidan. And you know Ben, of course. And this,” Sophie said, with a game show hostess’s flourish, “is my sister Mickey.”

“Mickey,” Vinay said, smiling. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Sophie’s been telling me all about you.”

I stared up at him, trying to think of something to say. He was absurdly good-looking with liquid dark eyes that seemed to convey so much about him. Kindness. Wisdom. Strength.

“Mickey,” Sophie said, nudging me, and only then did I realize how wildly inappropriate I was being just standing there mute.

“Um, hi, very nice to meet you,” I said, blushing.

“Hey, there’s Mom. I’m going to go get her. Aidan, you come with me, and Mickey, you stay here,” Sophie announced, and my skin burned even hotter. Could she be any more obvious?

“Right then. Something tells me she meant to leave us alone together,” he said, once Sophie had bustled off.

“I’m so sorry, she’s so bossy. Do you have any sisters?”

“One, older than me. Hideous, of course.”

“Then you understand.”

“All too well. Sophie tells me you just graduated from college,” he said.

“A few months ago.”

“Are you getting sick of everyone asking what your future plans are?”

“Oh my God, yes. I can’t even tell you,” I said.

“I took a year off after university, before I went to medical school, and every time my parents’ mates were around they’d grill me on when I was going to school, and where, and when was I going to get married,” Vinay said. “It got to the point that I’d pop round to the pub whenever anyone was coming over.”

“But at least you knew where you were going. I was supposed to go to Brown med school this fall, and then decided not to. Now everyone just acts like I’m one of those kids who moves home after college, lying around on the couch all day and mooching off their parents,” I said.

“You’re planning to stay in Austin?”

I shrugged. “For the foreseeable near future. I’m thinking about going to culinary school next year, but . . . I’m still working out the details.”

“That’s good,” Vinay said.

“Well, I haven’t gotten in anywhere yet.”

“No, I meant I’m glad you’re staying in Austin,” he said lightly.

I looked down at my arms. I actually had goose bumps. Not even Oliver had done that to me.

“You’re not married, are you?” I asked.

Vinay looked startled. “Um. No. Not yet,” he said, shaking his head.

“No fiancée? Girlfriend in another town?”

“No and no.”

“Good,” I said.

“I have a feeling there’s a story underneath those questions,” Vinay said.

“Not a very interesting one,” I replied, and when we grinned at one another, I could feel the possibility shimmering between us.

“Mickey, where’s Sophie? And Mom?”

I turned around, and Paige was standing behind us, holding tightly on to Zack’s hand. They were both grinning, and her updo had shifted wonkily off center.

“I don’t know. Sophie went off to find Mom, but now she’s missing, too.”

“No I’m not. Here we are,” Sophie said, cutting through the crowd, Mom in tow. “She keeps trying to get away from me.”

“Sophie, stop pulling me. I have to go greet the Johnsons. And Mary Beth is here, I have to say hello to her,” Mom said, waving to a friend across the room.

She looked beautiful. The short nipped-in jacket and fitted dress showed off her slim figure, and the happiness shining in her face made her look decades younger than her sixty-three years.

“No way. We’re already running late. Aidan’s asking people to move outside, and once everyone’s out there, sitting down, the ceremony is going to begin,” Sophie said firmly. “I had to practically pry her and Daddy apart.”

“Isn’t it supposed to be bad luck for Daddy to see you?” I asked her.

“It’s too late for that,” Mom said.

“I guess I should probably go outside,” Vinay said. He smiled at me, and the stomach flutters started up again.

“Have we met?” Mom asked him.

“No, I don’t believe we have. I’m Vinay Prasad,” he said, holding out his hand to Mom.

“He’s Ben’s pediatrician,” Sophie explained.

“How nice of you to come. Thank you for joining us,” Mom said so giddily, I wondered if she’d been sampling the champagne.

“Thank you for inviting me,” Vinay said. He slid his hand into mine and pressed it gently. “I’ll see you after the ceremony?”

I nodded. “I’ll find you,” I said.

Vinay smiled and moved on, following the throng of people making their way to the backyard. A tent had been set up outside, and the florists had spent the day filling it with candelabras, twinkle lights, and masses of flowers—roses, lilies, hydrangeas. Now that the sun was setting and the candles were lit, it looked magical.

“He’s gorgeous,” Mom said, nudging me.

“I should get going, too,” Zack said, although he looked unwilling to leave Paige’s side and she held on tightly to his hand.

“Let’s tell them,” Paige said.

Sophie inhaled audibly. “Does that mean what I think it does?” she asked.

Paige looked up at Zack. “We’re getting married,” she said softly.

Sophie squealed and grabbed them both in a hug.

“Oh, Paige,” Mom said, clasping Paige’s hand in her own, and I saw that Mom had tears in her eyes. Yes, she’d definitely gotten into the champagne. It always made her get misty.

“Congratulations,” I said, throwing my arms around Paige and squeezing her hard.

Zack leaned over and kissed Paige briefly.

“I’ll see you after the ceremony,” he said.

“Bye,” she replied.

Zack kissed my mom on the cheek, and then turned back to squeeze Paige’s hand one more time before he left.

“It’s time,” Sophie announced. “Is everyone ready?”

“Wait,” Mom said.

“It’s too late to be having second thoughts,” Sophie said.

“I just wanted to tell you all how much I love you, all of you. And how much it means to me—to your father and me—that you’re here today,” Mom said.

“Mom, if you start to cry, your mascara is going to run,” Sophie warned.

“I’m wearing the waterproof kind.”

“Even so, it’ll make your eyes puffy,” Sophie said, but she leaned forward and hugged our mother carefully. “Careful! I don’t want to get lipstick on your suit.”

“Come on, Paige, Mickey, give me a hug,” Mom said, and she pulled us all to her, until all four of the Cassel women were standing in a huddle.

“As long as we’re all here, I have to ask . . . what is Abbey Tyler wearing?” Sophie whispered.

“I know! That awful suit with the loud floral print?” Paige said.

“I thought she looked nice. She has a beautiful figure,” Mom said.

“Without a doubt, she wins the ugliest dress contest,” Sophie said.

“That isn’t nice,” Mom said.

“Well, it’s true.”

“And when did Mr. Walker start wearing a toupee?” Paige asked.

“Is that what’s wrong with him? I knew he looked different, I just couldn’t figure out what it was,” I said.

“I thought he’d gotten plugs,” Sophie said.

“Girls. Don’t you think that rather than making fun of our guests, this would be a good opportunity to share how much we love one another?” Mom said.

We all looked blankly at her.

“That’s not really our thing,” Paige said.

“Yeah, we don’t do the touchy-feely stuff,” Sophie agreed.

“Way too weird,” I said.

“I give up. I love you all. Now I’m going to go marry your father,” Mom said.

We were laughing as we broke apart and walked down the hallway to the back of the house. The florist had laid our bouquets out on the kitchen table, and we each picked one up—simple nosegays of red roses for the bridesmaids, white for the bride. Sophie ducked out the back door to signal to the musicians, and as the string quartet started to play Pachelbel’s
Canon in D,
she reappeared.

“Okay, Paige, I’m going first. And then you, then Mickey, and then Mom. Everyone count to five slowly before you start down the aisle, so we’re all spaced out evenly.”

“No, wait.”

We turned to look at our mother. She was shaking her head.

“I don’t have anyone to give me away,” she said.

“Do you want me to go get Nana?” I asked.

“No. I want you girls to walk with me,” Mom said.

“Are you sure?” Paige asked.

“But I was going to get in front and then take pictures of you as you came down the aisle,” Sophie protested.

“I don’t care about that. What I care about is that I have my daughters at my side,” Mom said.

Sophie opened her mouth to lodge another protest—she’d hidden her camera inside a topiary at the front of the tent—but I shook my head at her.

“Mom’s right. We should walk with her,” I said.

Paige nodded. “Yeah. It’s perfect.”

Sophie shrugged and grinned. “Whatever you say, you’re the bride,” she said, and grabbed one of Mom’s hands. I took the other.

“Where should I go?” Paige asked.

“Hold my other hand,” Sophie said. “And hold Mom’s bouquet for her. I guess we’ll just leave ours behind. Okay, is everyone ready? Mom?”

“I’m ready,” Mom said. Her voice quavered.

“We’d better hurry, or she’s going to start crying again,” I said.

“No, I’ll be fine. Let’s do it.”

And then, serenaded by the sweet strains of the quartet, we walked out the back door, hands clasped together, a chain of mothers, daughters, and sisters.

About the Author

Whitney Gaskell grew up in Syracuse, New York. A graduate of Tulane Law School, she worked for several years as a reluctant lawyer before writing her first novel,
Pushing 30,
followed by
True Love (and Other Lies).
She lives in Florida with her husband and son, and is at work on her fourth novel. You can visit her website at
www.whitneygaskell.com
.

Also by Whitney Gaskell

Pushing 30

True Love (and Other Lies)

Don’t miss
Whitney Gaskell’s
other novels

TRUE LOVE
(AND OTHER LIES)

and

PUSHING 30

Available from
Delta Trade Paperbacks

TRUE LOVE (AND OTHER LIES)

A sharp, witty novel about destiny, friendship, and soul-sucking jobs.

“I’ve learned enough about the world to have developed a well-established personal rule:
The whole concept of a one true love who completes your soul is total bullshit.”

Travel writer Claire Spencer doesn’t believe in fate, much less any part of that fairy-tale Prince Charming love-at-first-sight crap. Between the boyfriend who first dumped her, then fled the country to get away from her, and her parents’ vicious divorce, Claire doesn’t exactly have any successful relationship role models.

So when she ends up sitting next to a sexy American expatriate on a flight from New York to London and he asks her out, she figures there has to be a catch. After all, full-figured Claire hardly falls into the current stick-thin beauty deal, and men haven’t exactly been beating down her door.

But after years of disappointing dates, nightmare setups, and a bastard of an ex-boyfriend, Claire may have finally met the man of her dreams. It’s almost enough to make a girl start believing in destiny. The only catch? Someone else got to him first, and Claire can’t believe who it is.

“Funny, romantic . . . an entertaining read with all the right stuff.”—
RomanticReviewsToday.com

PUSHING 30

A smart, funny novel about finding Mr. Right when everything is going wrong.

Meet Ellie Winters. She’s under a little pressure . . .

“The one thing you should know about me is this: I’m the consummate Good Girl.”

Ellie Winters is dependable and loyal and has a near-phobic aversion to conflict. But as her thirtieth birthday looms ever closer, she starts to feel like she’s lost the instruction manual to her life. She has just broken up with her boring boyfriend, despises her job, and is the last of her high school friends to remain single. Worse, her dysfunctional family is driving her nuts, and she’s somehow become enslaved to her demanding pet pug Sally, who she suspects is the reincarnation of Pol Pot.

One night, after a botched attempt to color her hair at home, Ellie rushes to the drugstore for emergency bleach, Sally in tow. Sally is accosted by a smitten canine admirer . . . but it’s the dog’s owner who captures Ellie’s attention. Television news anchor Ted Langston is witty, intriguing, and sexy. The only catch? He’s twice her age—and the only man on the planet who isn’t interested in dating a younger woman. And no one, from Ellie’s best friends to Ted’s ex-wife, wants to see them get together.

This novel asks the question whether a Good Girl can find her happily-ever-after with the one man who’s so wrong for her, he’s perfect.

“Feisty, poignant, sexy, and packed with delicious comedy.”—Sue Margolis, author of
Apocalipstick
and
Original Cyn