by Karen Grey
I bark out a dry laugh. “You didn’t even want to call your mom to say you don’t have a date to the wedding. You seriously think you’re going to talk them into letting you be with a starving actor?”
“So it’s back to we’re doomed. But now it’s because I’m not allowed to make more money than you.”
“That’s not what I mean.” My throat’s tight. I turn away, pacing back and forth. “But seriously. Can you really look ahead five years from now and see us together? You’re going to be even more successful, making even more money. And yeah, I might be working a lot and maybe I’ll land another commercial or two, but I’m not giving up the theater. That’s not going to fly when you want to settle down and have kids and I can’t support you.”
She’s looking at me like I’m not even speaking English. “Who says that’s what I want?”
“Come on, Kate. You’re going to get there at some point. Your biological clock will go off and you’ll want kids and you’ll want to take care of those kids, so you’ll need to be with a guy who can take care of you.”
She bounces up off the couch to mirror my pacing. “Where do you get off telling me what I want?” Whirling to face me, she looks like sparks might fly out of her head. “I don’t even know what I want. Why can’t I make the money and you stay home with the kids?”
I stop moving. “Because… nobody does that.”
Her hands go up. “Well, why not?”
I shrug. “Because… you have the boobs?”
“Isn’t that what formula is for? It’s not like I have any special skills in the area besides having breasts and a uterus. I’ve never changed a diaper. Have you?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“So what the heck? And why are we talking about this now? Because you don’t want to meet my family because you’re afraid they’ll judge you for being an actor? Why do you care?”
“Because I do.”
“Well, it looks like you’re not going to meet them anyway. So nothing to worry about.” She hurls herself back on the couch and stares at the blank television set.
My hands are in my hair, wanting to pull it out. “I just… I just want you to be realistic.”
“Do you want to break up? Is that what this is all about?” she asks, her voice so soft I can’t read what’s behind her words.
“No.” Suddenly, my heart’s trying to escape via my throat. “But… maybe it is a good time to think about it all. Over the weekend. Make sure we want to stick with this when it probably doesn’t have a good long-term… prognosis.”
I’m afraid to move. I’m not sure if what I’m saying is what I mean. Or really want. But I feel like I should say it. I think. This whole thing just got away from me.
She’s up and halfway to the kitchen. “That’s fine. Let’s take some time. We’ve hardly seen each other lately anyway. So, it was fun, but now it’s over and—”
“That’s not what I said!” My eyes follow her but I’m still frozen in place. “I said let’s take the weekend to reevaluate things.”
“Yep. Well, maybe you should go now.” She’s walking all over the apartment, touching random objects but not landing anywhere. “I have to… pack. And finish up some work stuff too, and… ”
My heart slams against my ribs in panic, making a Kate-shaped bruise with each blow.
She just opens the front door and avoids making eye contact. “Have a good weekend, and maybe we’ll talk later. Sometime. After the weekend.”
I take a breath and force my feet to move, easing toward her like she’s a spooked horse. “Kate. I like you. A lot. I like spending time with you and… everything. Just, think about what you’re really looking for in a relationship.” I hesitate, not sure what else to say. “And I will too. Okay?”
She’s already hunkered down deep inside, past where I can see. “I said I would. Bye.”
A clenched jaw barely keeping my shit together, I nod, grab my backpack, and walk out the door.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
BEEP. THURSDAY, 8:03 a.m.
Kate, sweetheart? I’m so sorry to hear that your, uh, friend can’t come to the wedding. We’re all looking forward to seeing you anyway. Don’t forget we have salon appointments Friday afternoon and then the rehearsal dinner Friday night. Oh—can you call me back and leave your flight information again? I’m not sure who will be coming to get you, but we’ll figure it out. All right. See you tomorrow. Love you, honey.
KATE
Thursday morning it’s a struggle to stay on task. My emotions are all over the place. Frustration with Will and his pigheadedness over money is topped by anger at myself for picking a fight and then not knowing how to stop it. Grief rounds out the list. I’m already so attached to him that it’s like my mortgaged-to-the-hilt heart is being repossessed.
I’m whacking myself in the head with a pencil when an unexpected but familiar voice breaks into my funk. “Careful, darling. There’s valuable real estate in there.”
Roland’s in my office doorway, a bit pale but looking well otherwise.
“Oh my gosh, Roland. It’s great to see you back.”
“It’s good to be back. I’ve been going stir-crazy at home.” He looks around my tiny office. With my new responsibilities, I’ve made use of every inch of it. Piles occupy every horizontal surface.
“May I sit?”
I scurry around my desk to remove a stack of industry journals from the nicer chair. “Sorry, yes. Still getting organized here.”
“Thank you.” He eases into the chair with a groan. “Surgery’s a bugger. Recovery’s even worse.”
I keep him in my sights as I return to my side of the desk. “But you’re well? Got a clean bill of health?” He actually doesn’t look so good.
“Yes. That infection knocked me down for a bit. But I’ll be fine.” When he smiles, his cheeks hollow out. “You’ve done quite well in my absence, I’ve been told.”
“Thanks.” I clear my throat. “I do have to go away this weekend, I’m afraid. My cousin’s wedding. Unless you need me?” Maybe he’ll demand that I stay here to help him catch up and I’ll be off the hook for the wedding.
“No, no. Everything slows down around the holiday, anyway.”
I look down, flipping through my calendar. “Okay. I’m leaving tomorrow morning, so—”
Roland shifts in his chair. “Are you taking that young man?”
“No.” I look up. “Um. How did you know I had a young man?”
He smiles a bit wickedly, which is good to see. “I have eyes and ears everywhere.” He holds my gaze. “So, he’s not going?”
“No, we’re… taking a break.” I press my tongue to the roof of my mouth. An old trick to keep emotions inside. “No big deal.”
“Mm. Probably for the best.” He leans back, tenting his hands in front of his chest. “You’re moving up quickly, Kate. I’d hate to see anything hold you back.” His tone’s casual, but I sense there’s more to it.
“It’s just a cousin’s wedding. Will and I did not have wedding plans.”
He waves that thought away. “No, I know. However, you are at that age when all your friends are likely getting married. I know that it can be very tempting. But Kate, you’re a brilliant girl.” His hands spread wide. “So much potential. Getting caught up in marriage and children? What a waste that would be. We’d hate to lose you like that.” He shudders. As if he isn’t married with kids.
Why is it that these men seem to think they know what’s best for me? And have the right to tell me what I want? I have no idea what I want at the moment, but I sure as hell don’t want someone else making that decision for me. Unlike Will, however, Roland is my boss. I can’t afford to mouth off at him.
“Well, good thing I escaped that fate,” I say, mustering a bright reply. “Um, while you’re here, do you want to go over the latest reports?”
Roland eases himself out of the chair, moving with obvious care. “No, no, send them up, and I’ll go over them late
r. Keep up the good work.” He waves as he heads out the door.
As busy as I am, and as much as I’m dreading this wedding, it’s probably a good thing to get out of town. I need a break.
“Hey, so, you’re on your own for that wedding now?” Steve’s replaced Roland in my doorway.
“Yeah.” I glance up at him warily. “How do you know about that?”
He plops down in the chair Roland vacated only moments before, settling in for a chat, apparently. “Jessica told me. She was worried about you.”
“What? I thought you weren’t seeing Jessica anymore. And how does she know?” My humiliation is already all over town. Awesome.
He shrugs. “She figured it out when Will said he was available to help with some thing at their theater over the weekend.” He crosses his legs. “And we’re still friends. She’s a cool chick.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Huh.” It doesn’t seem like he’s going to razz me about this. “Yeah, well, you win some, you lose some. Now I get to be the loser without a date at a family wedding again.” I’m trying to keep it light, like I don’t really care.
“If you pay for my plane ticket, I’ll go.”
“What? Why would you do that?”
“I don’t know. We’re friends, right? Why not? I like weddings.”
“What is it with all you guys who like weddings?” I mutter, shuffling through papers.
“Are you serious? What’s not to like? Free food, free drink, fun music. Desperate single girls who want to get married, but will settle for getting laid?” He smiles as if contemplating such a conquest before lifting a palm in the air between us. “Not you, of course. But if I took someone else home for the night, you wouldn’t mind, right?”
My eyes are about to roll right out of my head. Steve’s still an idiot, if a useful one. Maybe it would be a good idea to take him along as a buffer. The more I think about it… he’s actually an ideal candidate for a pretend date. We travel together well, he’s charming, and I don’t have to worry about him hitting on me.
“You know what? You’re on.” I dig through my planner to find the tickets. “I’m going to go see if Gail can sweet-talk a travel agent into converting Will’s reservation.”
I point at him. “Do me a favor, though? You don’t have to pretend to be in love with me or anything, but if you do sleep with someone else, keep it quiet. I don’t want to have to go through a pretend breakup on top of my real breakup.”
“You broke up with him? I thought he just wasn’t going to the wedding.” He actually seems concerned.
“Yeah, I don’t know what’s going on, to be honest. It kind of feels like we broke up.” This is not a conversation I ever imagined having with Steve. Maybe we are friends.
“Bummer. He seems like a good guy. My friend Jay loves him.”
I think I do too, my heart answers. Smothering that thought and the feelings that go along with it, I say, “I’ll let you know what the deal is once I figure out the travel.” I wave the plane tickets in the air, sending a prayer to the corporate travel gods.
“Sounds good,” Steve says easily, giving my doorway a little knock as he saunters back to his office.
Walking off the jetway and into the Richmond terminal after a thankfully uneventful flight the next morning, I search for a familiar face. I hope someone’s here to pick us up.
Just when I’m thinking we might have to rent a car, my dad’s lopsided grin catches my eye. I wave, and a real smile blooms on my face. His dark brown hair has a few flecks of gray in it and his tanned face sports a few more wrinkles, but he looks fit as ever. His gaze shifts to my left, reminding me of Steve’s presence.
I put a restraining hand on him. “My dad’s here,” I whisper. “Just stick to the truth. We’re friends from work.”
He squeezes my shoulder. “Kate, calm down. I’ve been a fake boyfriend before.”
“No,” I hiss. “I don’t want you to be my—”
But he’s already shaking my dad’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Bishop.”
“How did you know that was my dad?”
“Because you look just like him.” He grins. “I mean, a feminine version, but hey, he’s a handsome guy.”
My father laughs, already charmed. He opens his arms, and I step into his embrace. “Hello, sweetheart. It’s good to see you.”
“You, too, Daddy.” As stressful as coming home can be, it’s always good to get a hug from my dad.
After a final squeeze, I step back. “Dad, this is Steve Lowell, a friend of mine from work. Steve, this is my father, Jack Bishop.”
“Nice to officially meet you, sir.”
“Good to meet you, young man. And call me Jack, please.” He takes my elbow. “Did you check a bag, sweetheart?”
“Yeah, I have a dress and everything so I had to pack a big bag. Sorry.”
“No problem. The car’s parked, so we can get your luggage and head out. Maybe stop for some lunch on the way.” He waggles his shaggy eyebrows and heads toward baggage claim. “Anything to avoid the circus at home.”
I shift my shoulder bag, and Steve takes it. I start to protest, but then let it go. It is heavy.
As we walk through the terminal, the two men chat easily about golf, the market, politics. The probability is near zero that Will would have anywhere near the same level of comfort with my dad. I put a backstop on that line of thought. Just because he didn’t come along doesn’t mean things are over. For now, I just need to focus on getting through the weekend.
Hopefully, having Steve around will prove more of an asset than a liability.
A couple hours later, we’re home. My dad leaves the car running in the drive since he’s not sure where Steve’s staying. Before I can get to it, Steve’s carrying my enormous suitcase up the front walk. “Oh, you don’t have to do that.”
He just takes my elbow, escorting me and my bag up the steps.
My mother opens the door. She smiles graciously, her slim figure clad in preppy pink and green, from Izod shirt to Bermuda shorts. Even the whales on her belt and the bobs on her ankle socks are color coordinated. Frosted blond hair wings away from her subtly made-up face; she’s the eighties version of June Cleaver. “Who do we have here?”
Steve sets my bag down, and I make introductions.
“Nice to meet you, ma’am. I’m a big fan of Kate’s. Honored to be invited.”
“Well, how lovely. Nice to meet you as well. I’m afraid we don’t have room to put you up here, but the groom’s brother has a guesthouse. It’s just a few blocks away. Will that be all right?”
“That sounds perfect.” He flashes his broad salesman smile. “I guess I’ll see you at the dinner later?”
“You will indeed,” she answers, her voice like butter.
I pull at the neck of my tee. It’s not the heat or the humidity but the company that has me sweating. I pat Steve on the upper arm. “You don’t have to come to the rehearsal dinner if you don’t want to.”
“I wouldn’t miss it. I’ll get settled, and then I’ll be at your disposal.”
My dad shuts the trunk of his car. “How about we hit a few balls on the driving range?” he asks as Steve jogs down the front steps. “I’m sure somebody has some clubs you could borrow.”
“Sounds great.” Steve slides onto the front seat. My dad’s probably ecstatic to have a reason to escape again.
“You need to be ready to go by five o’clock, Jack!” my mom calls. A quick beep of the horn and they’re off.
I follow her inside the house where we’re greeted by a welcome waft of chilled air.
“He’s awfully good-looking,” she says over her shoulder. “How nice of him to step in as your date.”
I drag my suitcase inside. “It is. But we’re not dating. You got that, right? No talking to him about his intentions or anything.” I grab the newel post. “I’m going for a run.”
“Kate.” My mom’s wounded tone has me stiffening. “Don’t you want to join us for manicures?
”
“Not really.” I wince. “Sorry. Not my thing.”
“Oh, Kate. Sometimes you have to make an effort.”
“Mom, my nails are fine.” I hold them up for inspection. They aren’t painted, but they’re not chewed either. “And I need a run and then a shower after that flight. Please?”
She studies my face. “Well, you could use a little color on those cheeks. Maybe some time in the tanning booth tomorrow morning?”
“Mom.” I grip the handrail and beg the universe for enough patience to get through the weekend.
“Alright. But be ready to leave for the dinner at five. Your sister stopped by to see you, but she left again. Something with one of the kids.” She waves vaguely as she heads toward the kitchen. “I suppose you can catch up with her and your cousins at dinner.”
“Sounds good. I’ll be ready at five, I promise.”
When I open the door to my room, I’m hit with a riptide of emotion that I cannot give into. It would not be good for my mom to hear me crying over a man again. By the time I’ve wrestled my bag inside and closed the door, the hurt has morphed to frustration. Flopping face first on my bed, I growl into the mattress before punching it as hard as I can multiple times. Weirdly, it’s good to feel the pain. And the mad.
But really, the situation is all very reasonable. Will just couldn’t come. Life gets complicated. We’re taking the weekend to think things over.
Snagging one of the colorfully coordinated throw pillows carefully arranged on my bed, I roll over and shove it behind my head. Imagining Steve teeing up with my dad, I have to admit Will’s right about one thing: Steve does fit in. That’s why I brought him, after all. If everything goes as planned, he’ll keep the nosy relatives distracted and I won’t have to answer awkward questions.
Then, after the weekend’s over, I’ll return to Boston, despite the fact that it’s way north of the Mason-Dixon line, and refocus on my career. With a little luck, I’ll be running my own fund by this time next year.
