28
Mute it!” Claire bellowed. “No one good is on the carpet yet, and I can’t handle Joan Rivers with all these hormones racing through me.”
I uncovered my ears as my sister, swathed in the pashminas she’d once derided, seized the remote control and clicked off the TV’s sound.
“No need to yell; I’m right here.” I perched on the edge of my parents’ coffee table, trying to contain my manic knee jiggling.
“More grilled cheese, girls?” My mother emerged from the kitchen bearing a plate of sandwiches.
I shook my head. “I’m way too nervous to eat.”
“That’s okay; I’ll have hers.” Claire helped herself to two and dug in. The doctor had recommended she stay off her feet as much as possible, which she invoked as her excuse for lounging about, mainlining carbs, and issuing orders to the rest of the family. To be fair to Joan Rivers, nearly everything sent her over the edge these days: spilled soda, puppy food commercials, less-than-optimal weather reports…
“Don’t be so self-centered. This is Becca’s day and you’re minimizing her achievements. You’re even eating her dinner,” Gayle lectured. But I noticed this didn’t stop her from grabbing a sandwich for herself.
“It’s fine,” I assured my oldest sister. “I couldn’t choke one of those things down if you paid me. I feel like I’m gonna hurl.”
“That’s my girl.” Connor came up behind me and rubbed my neck. “Strong spirit, weak stomach.”
“Besides,” Andrew added, “the babies need calcium. Eat up, sweetheart.”
“Okay,” Claire mumbled through a mouthful of bread.
Connor and I had flown back to Phoenix for the weekend to watch the Golden Globes preshow coverage in my parents’ living room. When my mother first invited us, I’d accepted without hesitation, imagining a series of soft-focus Hallmark moments. I’d surround myself with warm, loving supporters during the most nerve-wracking night of my life. Everyone would congratulate and fuss over me. I, little Becca, would be the pride of the Davis family for one brief, shining moment.
The reality was, of course, quite different. But at least we had grilled cheese, plus a bottle of champagne chilling in the refrigerator for the big moment.
“You know what would go great with this?” Claire finished off her first sandwich in record time. “M&M’s.”
“What kind?” Andrew had his car keys in hand before she’d finished her sentence. “Plain or peanut?”
“Peanut butter. Not the regular peanut ones, I need the ones in the orange bag.”
“Orange bag, got it.” He scurried off toward the garage.
“Hurry!” Claire yelled after him. “I love you!”
Gayle looked appalled. “Is that any way to treat your soul mate?”
“He doesn’t mind. That’s why he’s my soul mate.”
I glanced at the TV, which was still showing an endless stream of commercials, then said to Claire, “I take it his new job is going well?”
“Well enough to afford peanut butter M&M’s.”
“So, have you thought about any of my new name suggestions?” Mom was nothing if not persistent.
“Bruce is out,” Claire decreed. “Think of the taunting that child would get. I’m not naming my kid anything that rhymes with ‘abuse.’ ”
“So no Moose?” I teased.
“Or Goose?” Gayle threw in.
“Hey, you could do a lot worse than Goose,” Connor said.
All four Davis women looked at him in bewilderment.
“Top Gun,” he said. “Goose was Maverick’s trusty sidekick.”
“A second banana named after poultry. Yeah. That changes my mind.” Claire rolled her eyes.
“Okay, it’s back on!” I shushed everyone as the camera cut back to the parade of celebs working the red carpet.
I was dimly aware of Connor’s strong, reassuring hands on my shoulders as we watched Drew Barrymore pose for the paparazzi. And then Rachelle Robinson swanned into the fray.
“Oh my God.” Claire put down her grilled cheese.
“What is she wearing?” Gayle sounded shocked. “It’s the visual equivalent of a seizure. Her stylist must have had a psychotic break.”
And it did seem that Team Rachelle had cracked under pressure—Rachelle’s floor-length gown was a chaotic jumble of red, yellow, green, and purple stripes. Horizontal stripes.
“I wonder if she’ll take credit for designing that monstrosity?” I mused.
“She looks like a TV test pattern.” Claire snorted. “And those earrings are so last season. I can’t wait for Joan to eviscerate her.”
“Suddenly you can stand Joan Rivers?” Mom asked.
“I adore her.” Claire smiled angelically.
But Joan’s interview with Rachelle was cut short as my own personal knight in shining armor stepped out of a limo.
“Jennifer Garner!” Claire squealed. “She looks breathtaking.”
True to her word, Aimee had exploited her new Hollywood connections to the max, badgering her poor costar into considering my newest creation for the awards show. Jennifer had paired my gown with minimal makeup and dangly diamond earrings. She looked unusually luminous, even by starlet standards.
Gayle smiled as she recognized the dress. “That’s the dress you got at the Paradise Valley flea market, right? The one you couldn’t wear for your wedding?”
“It’s similar to my dress, but better.” I’d used the color and silhouette of the dove gray peignor for inspiration, mixing in metallic silver accents through the bodice, train, and hem and adding interest to the back with delicate mirrored beads.
“You really outdid yourself, honey.” My mom started to choke up. “My little girl’s going to be rich and famous.”
“You can support us in our old age,” my dad added from his armchair.
“Sshhh,” Claire hissed. “They’re going to talk about the dress!”
“Who are you wearing?” Joan wanted to know.
Ten seconds later, my cell phone started to ring.
I felt dizzy, like I’d already made serious inroads into that unopened bottle of champagne. Then Connor leaned over, squeezed my hand, and said softly, “I love you.”
“Love you, too.” On the precipice of a free fall into chaos and excitement and disbelief, I squeezed him back and found my footing.
Up Close and Personal
With the Author
WHY DID BECCA STAY WITH KEVIN FOR FIVE YEARS WHEN HE WAS SO WRONG FOR HER?
When they first met in college, Kevin was perfect for Becca because she had no direction or confidence and he wanted someone to boss around (oh, sorry, I meant to say “guide and mentor”). But by the time the book opens, Becca is ready to stretch her wings and take risks and Kevin can’t support her in that. They’ve been growing apart for years and, as mature adults, they’re on completely different paths. After putting in so many years with a partner, it’s very hard to make a clean break and to shake the feeling that you have to “justify” falling out of love.
I know a lot of women who had similar relationships in their early twenties—the guy was right for them at one point, but then they outgrew the relationship and didn’t know how to extricate themselves without looking like a heartless wench. These women, like Becca, develop a deep-rooted phobia of diamond rings!
HOW DID YOU RESEARCH THE FASHION ASPECT OF THIS BOOK? DO YOU SEW?
I shop…does that count? As for sewing, I can reattach a shirt button that’s come loose, but that’s the full extent of my tailoring prowess.
Luckily, I lived in West Hollywood when I started writing this book, and I knew a few designers who were trying to break into the fashion business. Kelly Nishimoto patiently answered all my questions, like Where do you get new ideas?, How do you make a pattern?, How do you get your designs stocked in a boutique?, and the ever-popular Why do jeans never fit me? You can go to her website (www.kellynishimoto.com) if you want to see the couture corsets that inspired Becca’s desi
gns.
Turns out, fashion design is one of those occupations that sounds really glamorous and fun, but actually involves a lot of technical expertise, dogged persistence, and a sky-high threshold for criticism and rejection. Kind of like writing!
WHY DOES CLAIRE CONTEMPLATE GIVING UP HER CHILDREN? DO YOU THINK SHE’LL BE A GOOD MOTHER TO THE TWINS?
I think she’ll be a very good mother and here’s why: Claire thinks about giving up the twins not because she doesn’t love them, but because she does. She wants her babies to attain what she sees as her ultimate goal: security. And she’s willing to sacrifice to make that happen. But what she learns by the end of the book is that “security” does not necessarily equal “money.” There’s security in love, both familial and romantic. There’s security in learning to trust yourself to provide what you need. I think the healthiest relationships are those that encourage you to go beyond what you thought were your limits and, luckily, Andrew does that for Claire.
THIS BOOK FEATURES A YOUNGEST CHILD WITH TWO DOMINEERING OLDER SISTERS, WHILE YOUR FIRST BOOK, MY FAVORITE MISTAKE, IS ABOUT A RESPONSIBLE OLDEST SIBLING WITH A WILD YOUNGER SISTER. DO YOU HAVE SISTERS? ARE YOU THE OLDEST OR THE YOUNGEST?
I’m actually a middle child, and yes, I do have a sister. She’s nothing at all like Claire (or like Skye from My Favorite Mistake); she’s a very sweet, very stable physician. I have her home number on speed dial for when I need medical expertise for a scene. Or just have a sore throat. She loves it.
Like Becca and Claire, we used to act out scenes from Annie in our backyard, but I didn’t always have to be Sandy the dog. Sometimes I got to be Molly, the sidekick orphan who’s always getting dragged around by her ponytail.
WE CAN REALLY FEEL BECCA’S VISCERAL TERROR WHEN SHE’S ABOUT TO JUMP OUT OF THE PLANE WITH CONNOR. DID YOU GO SKYDIVING TO RESEARCH THESE SCENES IN THE BOOK?
No. I am a total wuss, so I just interviewed my more daredevil friends about their experiences. The freak accident that befalls Connor in this book (double parachute failure) actually happened to my friend Wendy…on her very first jump. Needless to say, there was no second jump. She was absolutely, 100 percent convinced that she was going to die, but she didn’t. She managed to get her emergency chute working and landed on someone’s roof. The homeowner was not amused.
Since I started asking around, I’ve heard about people dying while hang gliding, body surfing, and cliff diving. So I’m definitely not going skydiving now! I’ll stick to my safe, earth-bound hobbies of watching Alias, reading scary books about serial killers, and being a crazy dog lady.
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