He shrugged. “Not really. It was a stupid thing to do.”
“Then why’d you do it?”
He took another drink, thinking. “I guess I thought it was what I was supposed to do. I was getting close to thirty and she really wanted to get married and I kind of just thought that’s what people did.”
“Did you love her?”
“I thought so. At first at least. But by the end, I didn’t even recognize myself anymore. I was angry all the time, and she found a way to ruin anything that made me happy.”
“She sounds like a blast.”
“Yeah.”
“What actually happened though?” He looked down. I waited, but he didn’t say anything else. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
He exhaled loudly. “No, I think I want to.” He paused again, then continued, all the while peeling the label off his beer bottle and shredding it into a tiny pile on the table. “She really wanted us to have a baby. And I mean, yeah, I want kids. But we were fighting all the time and I wasn’t ready, so I suggested we try going to couples therapy. She didn’t want to, but she eventually agreed. So we go like six times and we get into a fight in the therapist’s office about the whole kids thing, and she yells at me that it doesn’t matter anyway because she stopped taking the pill a year ago and if she wasn’t pregnant yet, it clearly wasn’t going to happen anyway.”
My eyes widened, but he still wasn’t looking at me.
“And I just—I couldn’t trust her after that. She had been lying to me for a year. And if she had gotten pregnant—I mean—that’s forever. It’s not like the little kind of lie, like when she knocked the mirror off her car and claimed she didn’t know how it happened. This was—it was too big. I couldn’t go back from that.”
He finally looked up at me, but I didn’t know what to say. Tricking someone into creating a new life was a whole other level of betrayal.
He brushed the pieces of his beer label into a napkin and balled it up. “So anyway. New subject?”
“Sure.” He looked uncomfortable at having shared that much, so I reached around for something else to talk about. Anything. “Okay, new subject. Um, oh, okay, I’ve got one! That horrible bridesmaid in Caryn’s wedding? She used the wrong ‘your’ in an email today!”
He smiled weakly. “What a moron.”
“Right? Like how are you going to ream me out and not even use proper grammar? I will destroy you in a reply to that.” His grin finally looked more genuine. “I need to figure out something appropriately passive-aggressive to troll her with. Maybe a mug that says ‘Grammar: the difference between knowing your shit and knowing you’re shit.’ I saw that online somewhere. I could send it to her.”
“I thought you were overextended on your wedding budget?”
“There’s always money to passive-aggressively mock someone horrible. Duh.” I paused. “I’ve also heard really good things about glitter bombs.”
“What’s a glitter bomb?”
“You anonymously mail someone an envelope full of glitter. It gets everywhere. And it’s cheap, so you can do it yourself. Glitter costs almost nothing.”
Alex shook his head. “Remind me never to cross you.”
You don’t know the half of it, I thought gleefully, already planning how to mock Caroline’s idiocy in the blog. But Alex was reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone, the screen glowing.
“Hang on, it’s my sister,” he said, answering it. “Sam? What’s up?” He held his hand over his free ear. It wasn’t loud in the restaurant, but it wasn’t super quiet either. “Wait, slow down, I can’t understand you.” He listened. “Oh God. Okay, which one? I’ll be right there. I’m coming right now. I love you too.”
He hung up and pulled his wallet from his back pocket, his face suddenly pale. “I have to go.”
“What’s wrong? What happened?”
“My dad—another heart attack—I have to—”
I slid out of the booth, grabbing my coat and scarf. “Which hospital?”
“Sibley.”
I punched it into my phone while he threw some cash down on the table. “I’ll have an Uber here in two minutes. Come on. Let’s go outside.” He nodded and followed me to the door. “Did she say how bad it is?”
“She doesn’t know yet.”
“I’m sure he’ll be okay.” I wasn’t. This was his second, which wasn’t a good sign. But, oh God, the look on Alex’s face. “This is us.” I gestured toward the blue sedan that pulled up to the corner.
Alex opened the door and got in, and I went around to the other side. He looked up, surprised to see me in the car. “You don’t need to come.”
I nodded. “Yes, I do.” I turned to the driver. “We’re rushing to the hospital for an emergency, so speed is good tonight.”
“You’ve got it. Everyone okay?”
“We don’t know yet.”
The driver looked at our faces in the rearview mirror. “You’ve got a good girlfriend there,” he told Alex. “Marry the ones who will come with you to the hospital.”
“He’ll take that into consideration,” I said grimly. “But please hurry.”
I picked up Alex’s hand, barely realizing I was doing it, and held it in mine for the entire drive. We didn’t talk.
The Uber driver dropped us at the emergency entrance, and we ran inside to the desk, where we were directed to the cardiac unit. There, in the waiting room, Alex dropped my hand, which I hadn’t realized he was still holding, and embraced an older woman with a tear-stained face. I didn’t need to see that she had the same eyes as Alex to know she was his mother.
“How is he? What happened?” He turned to the younger carbon copy of his mother and hugged her as well.
Sam wiped at her eyes with a tissue. “We were at dinner and he just dropped.”
“What did the doctors say?”
“He’s in emergency surgery right now. We don’t know anything yet.”
“What about the stent from last time?”
“I don’t know.” His mother sank back into her chair. “I don’t know anything. I just told them to do whatever they needed to do.”
Sam noticed me standing there and eyed me warily. “Who’s she?” I felt suddenly selfish for intruding on their family crisis.
Alex flinched. “Sorry. Sam, Mom, this is my friend Lily. Lily, this is my mom, Angie, and my sister, Samantha.”
Samantha shook my hand limply, apparently less irritated now that I was a friend and not more, and told me to call her Sam. His mother nodded in my general direction, but was understandably too distracted for much else.
“I’m going to see if I can get an update,” Alex said, looking around for the nurses’ station.
“They said they’ll tell us when there’s news,” Sam said.
“Well I need to do something.”
“There’s nothing you can do,” Angie said quietly. “Just sit. Please.”
Alex sat down heavily next to his mother. I took the seat on his other side, trying to be unobtrusive. His hand was on the armrest between our chairs and I put mine over it. He turned his over to hold mine, and our fingers intertwined, which sent a small jolt of entirely inappropriate excitement down my spine.
No one spoke. My phone vibrated and I slid it discreetly out of my pocket with the hand that wasn’t in Alex’s. It was Becca, asking how the date went. Good, I assume, since you’re not home?
Terrible, actually.
Then where are you?
I texted slowly, left-handed. At Sibley. Alex’s dad had a heart attack.
Oh no! Let me know what happens.
I told her I would and slipped the phone back into my pocket. Alex looked over at the motion. “Everything okay?” he murmured. “You don’t need to stay.”
“I’m fine right here.” I looked over to his mother and sister. “Can I get anyone anything? Water? Coffee?”
They both shook their heads. “I could use a coffee,” Alex said. “I’ll go.
”
“Stay,” I told him, standing and untangling our fingers. “You don’t want to be gone if the doctor comes out. I know how you take it.” He nodded and leaned back in the chair, rubbing his eyes. He looked older in the harsh fluorescent lighting, and there was a hint of gray in his sideburns that I swore hadn’t been there earlier.
I followed signs to the café, which was closed, but there was a vending machine that served coffee. I got a cup for Alex and paused as I passed the food machine. They had Skittles, so I got a bag for him as well. We had joked when we went to the movies that his preference was perfect because I wouldn’t steal any—I maintained that the calories weren’t worth it if the candy wasn’t chocolate.
By the time I got back, a doctor was talking to the family. I hung back, not wanting to interrupt, but tried to catch the drift of what he was saying.
“—an excellent prognosis, assuming surgery goes well. It’s a very common procedure.”
“How long?”
“Probably two more hours. He only needs a single bypass because the stent is holding, so we think it should be uncomplicated.”
Sam and Angie were holding on to each other, and Alex shook the doctor’s hand and thanked him. I waited until he turned to leave before I returned to them and handed Alex his coffee. “What did he say?” I asked quietly.
“They’re doing a bypass now. The doctor thinks he should be okay, assuming there are no complications in surgery.”
“That’s great!”
“Yeah.” Alex sat down shakily and took a sip of the coffee. “This is horrible.”
“There was only a vending machine.” I held up the bag of Skittles. “But I figured these would make a decent chaser.” I sat down next to him. “And I won’t even steal any like you did with my M&Ms after swearing you wouldn’t.”
He smiled weakly. “I’m like that blood type that’s a universal receiver, but with candy. I’ll take any of it.”
“Hospital humor, I like it.”
He put his hand over mine on the armrest. “Thank you.”
I laid my head on his shoulder. “Obviously, I hope there’s not a next time, but anytime.”
He leaned his head on mine and we sat like that for a long time.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Sharon texted me the Tuesday after Alex’s dad went into the hospital.
Do you want to go to dinner Friday night?
I hesitated. I was exhausted. I was broke. And I kind of, sort of wanted to keep my weekend open in case Alex needed me. His dad was scheduled to come home either Thursday or Friday, and I got the feeling he might need some extra support.
But Sharon never asked to hang out anymore. We had been inseparable in college—when you’re actually friends with your roommate, you tend to do everything together. Once she moved home after graduation, though, our relationship shifted to being conducted largely through texts and social media. She always came out for my birthday, and we would grab lunch from time to time. But the asking began to feel one-sided long before she even met Josh, and I’ll admit, I stopped trying so hard because of that. We still texted multiple times a week, so the conversation never ended, but sometimes she felt more like a pen pal than one of my closest friends.
So I said sure and asked where she wanted to go.
The three dots appeared and stayed for an inordinately long time, making me worry this would be some family event with her mother and that I had been invited solely to be the bearer of bad news. Again.
The message finally appeared. Yay! Wear something cute—I mean, you always look cute, but look EXTRA cute. Josh’s cousin Seth just broke up with his girlfriend and you two are going to be the perfect match. He’s a doctor and he’s even taller than you! Just don’t wear heels that are TOO tall. He’s a groomsman in the wedding too so if you two hit it off, you have a date and everything. And if you get married, we’ll be related!
My shoulders sank. She was still typing.
Was I opposed to being fixed up with a doctor? No, of course not. But ugh, had I reached the spinster stage where this was a thing? Yes, I had filled her in on the whole Tinder debacle, so she was just trying to help. But I still wondered if it was too late to bail and hang out with Alex instead.
Ok, I replied eventually. If Sharon noticed my lack of enthusiasm, she didn’t mention it. And either way, I was happy to see her away from her mother. She turned into such a timid mouse around Mrs. Meyer, and I missed my friend.
I wrinkled my nose at my reflection in the elevator of my apartment building as I went down to catch my Uber to dinner. I had sent a picture of my outfit to Megan and she said it was perfect, but I wasn’t so sure. What did one wear to look cute, but not desperate, when a friend decides to set her up on a date? Plus Megan seemed a little too excited about this whole situation, telling me that of course I could bring the doctor as a date to her wedding. Which was one hundred percent about Justin and I knew it.
After getting the necessary details from Sharon, I had snooped on Facebook. His profile picture was still him with a girl who I assumed was the ex, which either meant he wasn’t over her or he just wasn’t into social media. Neither seemed promising. He wouldn’t be named People’s Sexiest Man Alive anytime soon, but he wasn’t bad-looking. And I did trust Sharon.
So with some trepidation and a little bit of nervous excitement, I touched up my lipstick before climbing out of the Uber and walked into the restaurant.
Sharon, Josh, and Doctor Seth were inside already, but still waiting to be seated. Sharon ran over and hugged me.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” I said automatically.
“You’re not. I told you fifteen minutes earlier than our reservation time on purpose.”
I laughed. We may not hang out often anymore, but she still knew me. And that was enough to make me feel more at ease about meeting Doctor Seth. I kissed Josh on the cheek as a greeting and held out my hand to the cousin. “You must be Seth. It’s nice to meet you.” He nodded tensely and shook my hand, mumbling something incoherent that could have been “likewise” or could have been “I like guys,” before looking away. I was not, I realized, the only one who wasn’t totally feeling the matchmaker game.
Awesome, I thought. Either I’m not “doctor’s wife hot” or he’s not over his ex. Based on the Facebook picture, I could tell myself it was the latter. And at least I had Ubered to the restaurant, so I could drink.
Except Doctor Seth said he would just be having water when the waitress took our order, as he was on call. It looked like my martini would probably be an only child, unless he warmed up or was so boring that I decided to drink myself into oblivion.
“What kind of doctor are you?”
“Emergency.” He didn’t say anything else.
I glanced at Sharon. Had she already told him everything he needed to know about me or was conversation just not his strong suit? She nodded encouragingly and I sighed. “What hospital?”
“Sibley.”
I opened my mouth, “And what a delightful bedside manner you must have” on the tip of my tongue. Had this been a real date, I would have said it. I was comfortable enough with who I was to recognize that a guy was either going to like me, snarky warts and all, or he wasn’t. But I had seen zero evidence of a sense of humor or even a personality so far and I didn’t want to make waves with Sharon’s soon-to-be in-laws. So I bit my tongue and instead replied cheerily, “Oh, wow, I was just there last weekend.”
He seemed mildly more interested as he looked me up and down, scanning for injuries or illnesses. “For what?”
“Oh. Not for me. My friend’s dad had a heart attack and I went with him.”
A nod and he checked his phone. I was dull again. Our drinks arrived and I took a long sip, then gave up and turned to Sharon. “So what’s the latest with your mom?”
I didn’t want Sharon to feel bad, so I hadn’t told her about the phone call I received from her mother the week before, in which she ripped me apart for sending Sharon’s
aunts’ shower invitations to the wrong aunts’ houses. I asked why they couldn’t just accept that it was a mistake and open each other’s, which was apparently a completely irrational and unacceptable answer on my part. As soon as I got off the phone, I set her ringtone to be Darth Vader’s theme music, then wrote a scathing blog post to make myself feel better.
Sharon rolled her eyes. “She’s extremely focused on flowers at the moment.”
“How lucky for that florist.”
She pursed her lips, amused. “That poor man. He has no idea what he’s in for.”
“Should I warn him?”
“Eh. He’s getting paid. He’ll be fine. And my mom can’t be the worst he’s dealt with.”
I sipped my drink to avoid laughing. Oh yes she can, I thought. “Did you pick a color scheme yet?”
“Tiffany blue and white,” she said, and I smiled broadly. Breakfast at Tiffany’s was Sharon’s favorite movie, book, poster, and Halloween costume when we were in college. And while her mother’s preference for black dresses would probably have been more fitting if she wanted to make that a theme, I loved that Sharon was happy with her choice.
“You could probably do some cool Tiffany’s-style favors. I saw some on Pinterest.”
“Since when do you use Pinterest?”
“I’m quite the expert on all things wedding these days.”
Sharon looked to Seth and Josh, who were now both scrolling on their phones. She cleared her throat. “Lily is in five weddings this summer, including ours.”
Josh read her tone and put his phone away. Seth looked up from his and saw Sharon raising her eyebrows at him. “Is that a lot?”
Sharon laughed, pleased she had gotten him to engage. “Men. Yes, that’s an insane amount. But it means Lily will be a pro when it’s time for her to get married.”
He looked back down at his phone and I cringed. Great. He’s going to think I’m trying to marry him. “Which hopefully won’t be for a very long time,” I added quickly. “I’ve had enough weddings for a while.”
“But not too long,” Sharon said. “I mean, you want kids and all.”
For the Love of Friends Page 16
