Nope. Went home alone. You know me and Zach’s gym buddies—not a good match.
Only fifty percent lie. I do hate most of her fiancé Zach’s meathead gym friends.
Julia: Are you working today?
Me: No.
Thank God. I can only imagine how much worse this day would get if I had to work a twelve-hour shift at the hospital.
Julia: Can you stop by? I have wedding stuff to talk about. I’ll make you dinner…
Knowing the contents of my refrigerator I should immediately take Julia up on her offer. Tonight will probably be another night of me wishing I had gone to the grocery store while eating a sleeve of crackers. But between work and my extra special run in with Graham, I’m starting off the week without any of my usual planning. I should spend the rest of my weekend getting back on track: cleaning my apartment and food prepping for the week, getting to bed early so I won’t be dead on my feet when I have to go into work on Monday. But the thought of someone else taking care of dinner makes me forget all those other concerns.
Me: Sure. What time?
Julia: Great! Can you come over around 6?
Me: See you then.
I walk up the sidewalk to Julia’s house with a bottle of wine tucked under my arm. I can do this. I can look her in the eye and wipe all traces of Graham from my mind. I straighten my spine and ring the bell, noticing the planter full of flowers spilling over onto the porch. I’ve barely got the capacity to raise a cactus and here Julia’s growing not only kids, but flowers. I’m sure somewhere in her house is a fish swimming happily in its little bowl. They’ll probably get a puppy next.
Julia throws open the front door and greets me with the kind of hug you reserve for long-lost relatives. I can barely breathe in her python-like grip and do my best to wrestle away before she strangles me.
“Shit, Julia. Not so tight. We just saw each other last night.” I thrust the bottle of wine forward to put some space between us.
“Sorry! I’m just so excited you have tonight off. Zach and I have been doing wedding stuff all day, but I need fresh victims. He’s gotten tired of the planning already.”
“Victims?” I ask, emphasizing the plural. I don’t like the sound of that.
“Sure. You and Graham,” Julia tells me as I catch a glimpse of his broad back on top of a ladder behind her. “He was over helping my dad with a few things so he walked down. He and Zach are replacing the ceiling fan. Fingers crossed they don’t burn the house down.” She raises her hand to cross her fingers and I am blinded by the sparkle of her new engagement ring.
“Graham was at your parents’ house?” I don’t know why I even bother asking at this point. Of course he was. He’s embedded so tightly in Julia’s family that I wouldn’t be surprised if he had his own room over there. He and Julia’s dad have developed the kind of bromance I love to make fun of. Graham and Steve could be father and son these days and he’s always hanging around their house, helping with stuff and generally making them wish he and Julia had never broken up. If it was a diabolical plan I would give him credit for executing something so brilliant, but I know that having grown up without a dad of his own Graham’s not in it to win Julia back. Steve’s truly been like a father to him since high school. Hell, I would have loved to be able to find a great surrogate dad for myself conveniently hanging around after mine hit the road.
“Are they even qualified to put that thing up? Shouldn’t you call an electrician or something?” I poke my head through the doorway and see Zach handing pieces up to Graham. You’d think it would be awkward—Julia’s ex with her new almost-husband—but it turns out I’m the only one feeling awkward here, a feeling that only intensifies when Graham turns a bit to face us and I convince myself I can almost see his nipples through his T-shirt. Nipples that I now remember having between my teeth a few hours ago.
“Have a little faith, Mama.” He lets his eyes rake over me. I make myself ignore him, but the skin on my neck starts to burn. “Zach and I are trained professionals. We can install a ceiling fan.”
Zach gives me a thumbs up, still looking at the directions he has spread out on the coffee table.
“I made them look at those,” Julia whispers conspiratorially. “And I’m having the electrician come to check their work in the morning. Come on, help me in the kitchen.”
I follow her over toward the stove where she’s got multiple pots going at once. I lift the lid on one and am rewarded with a face full of steam. So much for my mascara. Not that I should care what I look like for dinner with friends, although I’m glad I at least changed out of my sweats and into a pair of jeans that I know make my ass look fantastic.
“You didn’t tell me Graham was going to be here,” I say more accusingly than I intend to. “You could’ve given me a warning.”
“I just assumed you’d know he’d be here. I mean he’s also wedding party, right? And I know he can be an ass, but I thought you two were getting along better. You went home together last night, didn’t you?”
My face flames. “What? We didn’t go home together.”
“I thought you shared an Uber. That’s what Graham said.” Julia’s brow knits a bit in confusion.
“Oh. Oh, that. Yeah.” I make a show of looking for the corkscrew and pulling down wine glasses from the cabinet. I know the drawers’ contents almost as well as Julia does, having spent many a night here in her house once she moved back to town. Back then she was a recently widowed single mom trying to figure out what to do next and now she’s got me here to talk about wedding plans. Things definitely have changed.
“Fuck!” Graham yells from the living room, reminding me that some things will never change.
“Where are the boys?” I ask Julia, hoping neither of her elementary-school-aged sons are about to appear and start repeating the colorful language Graham’s so loudly spewing.
“They’re at my mom and dad’s. We thought it’d be easier to talk without them interrupting every five seconds. Zach’s going to walk over and get them in time for bed.” One of the many benefits of Julia being able to move a few blocks away from her parents, I guess. I’d hate to be this close to my mother, but they’re making it work. Julia goes back to stirring, dipping the wooden spoon into the pot and offering me a taste. “Too salty?”
“No, I don’t think so.” I’m careful not to burn my tongue. Julia’s a great cook and she doesn’t need any advice from me.
“Speaking of salty… did you and Graham have a fight last night or something?”
I’m relieved that Julia’s busy with dinner and can’t see the flash of panic I feel contort my face. “Not really,” I answer her, careful not to let my voice give anything away. “Why do you ask?” I try to sound innocent but I’m pretty sure I’m failing miserably.
“Well, you seemed okay last night, but today you’re both acting weird.”
“Weird? We’re not acting weird.” Yeah, that sounds totally believable. Way to get defensive, Cassie. I fill my wine glass and turn just in time to get a glimpse of Graham’s butt in his athletic shorts from the top of the ladder. I take a giant swig. “He keeps calling me that nickname again,” I tell her as I pour her a generous serving of red. “So maybe that’s the pissed off vibe you’re getting.”
“Seriously?” Julia turns to face me with a respectable amount of righteous indignation. I mentally give her five more points in her standing as best friend. “Do you want me to talk to him about that? In his defense, I honestly don’t think he remembers why they used to call you that. Not that that’s an excuse. So rude.”
“You don’t have to.” I don’t want Graham to think I’ve spent all night talking about him. I’d rather let him think he’s been the furthest thing from my mind. Even if that’s becoming one of the bigger lies I’m having to tell. I’ve been doing nothing today but dissecting every detail of last night which means dissecting every detail of Graham. “He’ll quit eventually.”
“Sure, but in the meantime you have to sit there an
d get annoyed. That’s not going to work if you two are going to plan all this stuff with me. I can’t have miserable bridesmaids.” Julia’s teasing with the last part, but that barely registers.
“How much are you expecting us to help, really? I thought you’d hire a wedding planner or something. Isn’t that what people do?” The thought of dealing with Graham on a regular basis for eternity makes my head start to ache; they haven’t even set a date which means this could drag on for months.
“Well, it’s the second wedding for both of us so we were hoping to keep things a little more low key. And who needs a wedding planner when you have a great group of people ready and willing to help?”
Julia says the last part with less conviction than she should and I know she’s waiting for me to back her up. She wants me to tell her there’s nothing I would rather do than help her plan another wedding. But let’s get real here. I’ve done this with her before. I know how much time even the simplest wedding is going to eat up. Time I don’t have and time I don’t want to spend with Graham Stevens. Maybe before last night I would have been more easygoing about it, but tonight I know there’s no way I’ll be committing to making wedding favors and helping with the seating arrangement for their reception. No way, no how.
But none of that gets a chance to come out of my mouth because Zach and Graham move to the kitchen island, apparently finished setting up the fan in the living room. Julia turns to kiss Zach as he slides one hand over the curve of her hip and I can’t keep my eyes from looking right at Graham to gauge his reaction. To his credit there’s only a flicker of discomfort, which he quickly quells with a swig from his bottle of beer. But I see it and it tells me everything I need to know about Graham and how he’s still pining for Julia. It might have been me in his bed last night, but it’s Julia who’s in his heart. For all I know he was picturing her when he was screwing me.
I choose the wrong time to take another sip of wine and find myself choking, the idea of my body with Julia’s face making it hard for me to swallow. Graham’s over in an instant, whacking me on the back. When the thumping turns to rubbing I wrench myself away from him.
“God, Graham! Get off me,” I sputter, effectively silencing the entire room and drawing attention to Graham’s hands still resting on my shoulders. He pulls back like I’m made of pure electricity and not the sexual kind. He holds his hands up near his face, surrendering.
“Whoa, whoa. I was only trying to keep you from dying. Sorry. Won’t do it again.”
“Let’s get dinner organized,” Julia interjects, the confusion on her face mirrored in Zach’s expression. “You two stay in your corners.” She hands me a basket of rolls—homemade, of course—and shoves me toward the dining room table. She’s close behind me with the salad, hissing in my ear. “What the hell is going on with you two?”
“Nothing. We just don’t always get along,” I whisper back, fully aware of how well it turns out we can actually get along given the right circumstances. My shoulders still burn where Graham’s hands ended up during his attempt at the Heimlich. “I don’t like him getting in my space.”
The words are barely out of my mouth when Graham joins us with the pasta. Of course he heard me and gives me a smirk that I’m sure Julia can see. I glare at him, only making the entire situation worse. It’s like we’re back in middle school with me wanting to keep my cool and Graham making it impossible. Adult Cassie has left the building.
“We have to clear the air here.” Julia’s all business, hands on her hips and mouth set in a serious line. “I don’t have all the details, but Graham, you have to stop poking Cassie.”
Now it’s Graham’s turn to choke. “What? I’m not… we haven’t been…”
“Yes, you have. She’s told me all about it so quit trying to act innocent.”
Graham’s mouth drops open as his blond head swivels to gape at me. “She’s told you everything?” Horror slides across his face. We’d just sworn each other to secrecy a few hours ago and the betrayal clearly has him blindsided. Except, I haven’t told Julia anything about what’s happened and seeing Graham’s face harden makes me vow to keep the secret if only to never have to see fury like that in those blue eyes ever again.
“I didn’t… I haven’t…” I look directly at Graham who clearly hates me more than ever right now.
“Don’t let him weasel out of it, Cassie. She told me you keep calling her that stupid nickname. Knock it off.”
Graham’s shoulders visibly relax and his fingers release the death grip he has on the neck of his beer bottle. “That’s what she’s mad about?” he asks. “I call her that all the time.”
“I know,” Julia chastises. “And it has to stop. It isn’t nice and you know it.”
“What’s not nice about it?” Graham seems genuinely perplexed. “There’s nothing wrong with ‘Mama.’ Right, Cass?”
I keep my face neutral, putting the old mask I’ve always worn back on. I’m not about to give Graham permission to call me anything, not something that dredges up old memories. Especially now that he’s seen me naked.
“God, Graham, do you even remember what it means? Why you and your friends started calling her that?”
Graham’s face clouds. He doesn’t remember. Of course he doesn’t. Must be nice. For him it was some stupid thing he blurted out when he was thirteen years old, not the lasting mark of shame I carried around for years afterward. Thankfully Zach stays busy in the kitchen, keeping him from witnessing this new humiliation.
“Wasn’t it like little mama? Because Cassie’s so bossy? Because she acted like she was our mother?” Graham struggles for a good answer, flailing a bit. Julia keeps her angry face on, arms crossed over her chest, and lets him dig the hole deeper. “It was forever ago, I don’t remember how it started,” he finally confesses.
“Well, get ready to feel like an ass.” I have to hand it to Julia, she’s a master at handling Graham. He stands across the table from her, waiting for her to lower the boom. He doesn’t even try to escape or look for a way to soften things. He just sort of opens his hands like he’s waiting to catch whatever terrible thing she’s getting ready to throw at him. “You and your dumb friends used to call Cassie Mama because of Mama Cass.”
Graham blinks. He doesn’t even seem to remember the reference.
“Is that not ringing any bells?” Julia plows on. “The fat girl in the Mamas and the Papas? The one who allegedly choked on her sandwich and died?”
My feet are rooted to the spot next to Julia. As much as I would love to flee to the kitchen, I can’t seem to move. Can’t take my eyes off Graham’s stupid blinking face as he tries to process this information. He’s still drawing a blank.
“They sang California Dreaming. You and your moronic friends found that record at Jamie Allen’s house when we were there for her birthday party in seventh grade. You cannot expect me to believe you have zero memory of this.” Julia’s ripping him a new one. If only I was able to enjoy it.
“So, we called Cassie ‘Mama’ because…” Graham still can’t connect the dots. My face starts to heat; I’m sure I’m starting to look like a giant red stop sign. But this conversation isn’t going to end until Julia’s gotten Graham to see just how terrible that name makes me feel.
“Because she was chubby, you idiot.”
Graham’s eyes widen and his mouth twists.
“It was my fat girl name until we graduated high school,” I tell him, not caring that he can hear the hurt in my voice. I curse myself for not bringing my wine in here with me. Middle school Cassie could really use a drink.
Graham’s still shaking his head. “We called you that because you were…” To his credit he can’t seem to get that last word out.
“Fat.” I finish for him. “You called me that because I was fat.”
He looks like I’ve slapped him.
“I’m going back in the kitchen now to see if Zach’s fallen in the sauce,” Julia tells us. “And you,” she points an accusing finger i
n Graham’s direction, “are going to apologize and stop being such a dick. Then maybe Cassie can forgive you and we can all try to get through this evening in one piece.” She leaves us alone, staring at each other over the dining room table.
“Cassie, I…”
I cut him off. “Don’t.”
“I didn’t remember it that way. Obviously, I wouldn’t have kept calling you that if I had.” The fingers on his right hand flex and I’m thankful Graham’s on the other side of the table. If he were to try to touch me now in some attempt to soothe me, I don’t know what I’d do. As is I’m torn between pounding my fists on his chest and bursting into tears. Neither of those reactions will make this dinner finish any faster.
“Just forget about it,” I tell him, pretending I don’t care. Trying to, at least until Zach rescues me with the delivery of my wine glass. Then I’m drowning my sorrows and helping Julia get us all settled for what promises to be the world’s most awkward dinner party.
4
Graham
This evening will go down in history as the absolute worst dinner ever. The food’s great because Julia doesn’t do anything half ass when it comes to entertaining. She’s got everything organized so we’re like the cast from one of those cooking shows that gets to enjoy the meal the host has demonstrated. It should be easy for us all to talk, even if it means discussing Julia and Zach’s wedding—a subject that still hurts a bit, if I’m being honest. But any of my feelings about Julia’s new life have been pushed aside by the horrible feeling sitting in my gut now that I know how much of a jerk I’ve been to Cassie.
How could I have forgotten how horrible that nickname is? I’ve been calling her something for years that cut pretty deep. I’ll cop to the fact that I used the name because it riled her up, but it never occurred to me that it drove her crazy because it was legitimately awful. I don’t think of myself as the guy who goes for mean just for the hell of it but in Cassie’s eyes—and maybe Julia’s too—that’s exactly who I am. My pasta’s like sawdust in my mouth as I tell myself just to get through this dinner so I can figure out some way to make it up to Cassie. She’s not looking at me, letting her green eyes slide right over me. We’re seated next to each other so there’s no real chance to force her to make eye contact. And what would be the point of that anyway? Short of making her cry I’ve done a great job of making her feel uncomfortable today. From the time we woke up until now this day has been one horrible revelation after another.
Forget About It Page 3
