by Tif Marcelo
Then, above her, the ceiling fan turned on.
“Thank you. I swear I looked away from the stove for a sec—” Pearl turned toward the front door to thank whichever sister had arrived in the nick of time. Instead . . . “Kayla! You’re early!” She ignored the stench of the apartment and dropped her arms, her body relaxing at the sight of Kayla’s not-surprisingly smug face. Who cared about the smoke? Her best friend was here. “Hey.”
“I got some face time with Jane downstairs and dropped off an early Mother’s Day present,” she said, reading Pearl’s mind. “I thought I would make this a twofer.” She crossed her arms but didn’t budge from her spot, and her face was soldered into a frown. “So, I’m here.”
“Thank you for coming. I—” Pearl gestured upward at the lingering smoke. She pointed at the cast-iron skillet of impossibly burnt bacon for fried potatoes—Kayla’s favorite comfort food—and threw her hands up. “I give up. Want a drink?”
“Why am I here, Pearl?”
“Because I wanted to talk. And have a good meal; obviously, that’s not going to happen. I can order pizza.” She was met with little expression. “Sushi? Chinese? Mexican food!” Her floors were getting wet, so she shut the windows. It was the Friday before Cinco de Mayo, and it had thus far been a stormy month. She was lucky that they didn’t have an event for tomorrow—it would have been a monumentally wet occasion.
Kayla shook her head, but the mere fact that she was still standing in her apartment gave Pearl some hope. It had taken almost three weeks, a series of novel-length texts, a dozen of her favorite macarons, and a five-minute voicemail message for Kayla to finally agree to dinner.
“Greek? From Nikos!” Pearl declared, bringing out the big guns. Greek was Kayla’s fave, though not Pearl’s. But she would eat all the tzatziki to get the woman to stay.
With a nearly imperceptible nod, Kayla agreed.
The first part of her plan was complete.
They sat across from each other at the kitchen table, each with a drink in their hand. The air still reeked of burnt bacon, and the minutes had ticked by at a molasses pace. Kayla spun her glass of gin and tonic on the table, making condensation rings on the wood, and Pearl, watching her, ran through her apology in her head.
She’d planned for days on what to say. She planned to apologize and promise her undying loyalty. She’d reveal the God’s honest truth of why she’d kept her relationship with Trenton a secret and admit her reasons were still no excuse. She shouldn’t have lied to Kayla.
Except the words were stuck in her throat, because even if she apologized, she didn’t know how to make up for it.
She also wasn’t sure if Kayla was going to like what the rest of the night entailed.
“So.” Pearl broke the stalemate and promptly patted herself on the back for having the fortitude to do so. “Refill?”
Kayla’s drink was still three-quarters full; she raised the glass as if to emphasize.
“Right.” She sighed. Think, Pearl. “Thanks for checking on Jane.”
The vibe cracked. An honest smile appeared. “I was glad to see her back to her normal self. Her apartment was buzzing in there, with the music on and Pio running around.” Then, as if realizing she was still angry, her expression clamped down like a vice. “Pearl, can we get started, please?”
“Okay.” She spied the time on her wrist. Ten more minutes.
“Why do you keep checking your watch?”
“Food delivery. I’m starving. Aren’t you?”
Kayla eyed her suspiciously. “Whatever you have to say, say it now. Let’s get on with this so that I can go home. I’ve got work waiting for me.”
A car rumbled outside her window, bringing Pearl to her feet. “Okay, uh, hold that thought.”
Kayla huffed though she didn’t bother to get up.
Pearl jogged down the stairs and opened the front door to Trenton. His smile was twisted into worry though she couldn’t blame him. The last time they’d seen each other, he’d professed his love and she’d basically rejected him. Since then, they hadn’t spoken. She hadn’t tried to contact him and vice versa, as if they’d both known that without Kayla’s blessing, there couldn’t be a relationship.
Behind Trenton was a waterfall of rain. The tops of his shoulders were wet. A drop of water ran down his cheek. His Uber sped off, tires sloshing through the street.
“Hi, Pearl,” he said.
She stood aside and he walked in, though he hovered by the doorway. She breathed in the sight of him. “Hi . . . um, food should be here soon. I had a culinary emergency a bit ago.”
With perfect timing, Nikos’s delivery truck rolled up, and a guy popped out with two steaming grilled-meat smelling bags, safe under an umbrella.
Trenton grabbed both bags. They climbed the stairs in silence, coming to her apartment door. Pearl entered first, bracing herself as she opened it.
“What are you doing here?” Trenton asked of the woman sitting at Pearl’s dining room table.
“I was here first. What are you doing here?” Kayla fired back, eyes then cutting to Pearl. “What is this?”
Pearl all but pulled Trenton inside. Hurrying, she lifted her priceless antique armchair from its normal spot in the corner of her living room, shut the door, and blocked it with the chair.
“I’ll tell you what it is.” Pearl sat on the chair, crossed her legs underneath her, and slung her arms across her chest. “I’m not moving until I apologize so much that you all can’t take it anymore.”
A triad of sad people, that’s what they were. Pearl at the door, Kayla at the kitchen table, and Trenton seated on the couch.
Pearl unfurled her arms and leaned down, elbows on knees. “Kayla, I’m going to speak for myself, and myself only. I. Am. Sorry.” She took a deep breath. “I should have told you right away. I should have said something the moment things between Trenton and me shifted. I was scared. It felt like I was losing things left and right, and Trenton was there, and the whole kid-crush thing blossomed into something bigger than I ever expected.” She swallowed her excuses. “I messed up. But I love you. And I love you, Trenton. Like, down to the bone, since the beginning of life. I’ll do anything so it can be the three of us again. But the most important thing to me is that the two of you are back to being close.” She looked at Trenton. “I want all of us to try to work this out. I see my future with both of you at my side. Not one or the other. But your family comes first. I know the strength of that now more than ever. So if I have to step away from the both of you, I will.
“Nothing can replace family, blood or otherwise. I don’t want to be the cause of breaking up yours. But at the same time, I can’t walk away without showing you something, Trenton.” Pearl stood, face tingling with the start of tears, and went to her printer. “You both knew my sisters gave me a Love Unlimited gift certificate. It included two matched dates and the speed-dating event. With everything that’s gone on, I completely forgot about the second matched date. Davina, the owner, emailed me several times, and even when I refused that last matched date, she felt compelled to send me who the match was, in case I changed my mind. It came last week.” She handed Trenton the piece of paper.
Trenton bit his bottom lip, eyes on the paper. He fell silent.
“Well, who is it?” Kayla asked.
“It’s me,” Trenton said. “I signed up for this service too when I moved back. I thought it’d be a good way to get back into the groove.” He folded the paper in half and stood.
“Where are you going?” Kayla stood, too.
Panic rose within Pearl—he was going to leave. The man meant to walk out and she hadn’t said everything in her heart. “No, you can’t go yet. Because I need to tell you that I love you. As in, more than friendship. I was stupid and scared. It felt too good to be true, so I didn’t believe what I felt.”
Trenton advanced toward the exit, and Pearl backed up to the door, arms splayed out to block it. “It’s all excuses, I know. But I’m not letting y
ou out until I say this: I’m willing to wait until you forgive me. Even if it’s not today, or for days, or for weeks. For years.” Her eyes shot to Kayla. “Both of you.”
Kayla had a hand on her chest—her tell. She was torn, but her next words were unexpected. “Oh, hell, Trenton. Are you just going to let her stand there?”
“No, I’m not,” he growled, taking the last two steps to reach her. His hands cradled her face; she melted into his touch. He kissed her on the lips, chaste, pure, and perfect. “How can I, when you’re the woman who’s twisted my heart into a pretzel like one of your yoga moves? Even if I tried to forget you, I couldn’t. I would have waited for you, too. I love you, Pearl.”
Kayla’s arms encircled the both of them.
“I’m sorry La-La,” Trenton said. “I fucked up.”
“You both are still on notice,” Kayla said, face wet with tears. “But I’ll get over it. I can’t stay mad. These last three weeks have been the worst. I love you both too much.” She sniffed. “But please, please, please, when you guys have drama with each other, keep me out of it.”
“Okay.” Pearl shook from relief and laugh-cried into her friends’ arms.
In the background, the doorbell rang, but Pearl ignored it.
Everyone important to her was here, already inside 2404 Duchess Street.
twenty-eight
Mood: “I’ll Be There for You” by The Rembrandts
Friday nights were crunch nights, usually spent finalizing last-minute details and calming her anxious clients. Mari had often spent it dragging brides and grooms from the proverbial ledge that would’ve otherwise kept them from walking down the aisle. She’d barely sleep; she’d run on fumes combing through every line item on her checklist. Wine was not earned until the event’s end.
But tonight, tonight Mari was having her wine early. It was only 7:00 p.m. and her feet were propped on her ottoman. Jane was settling in for a movie night with Pio. Pearl was having Kayla and Trenton over at her apartment. Music played in the background, her secret boy band music playlist. She had a cookbook on her lap with Post-it flags sticking out from some of its pages, marking recipes for their planned barbecue for Memorial Day. The sound of the rain brought about a peace that she hadn’t felt in a long, long time.
No, Mari didn’t have an event tomorrow—she’d reminded herself of it throughout the evening, even rechecked the calendar to make sure. Besides it being a bye week, her work schedule had changed dramatically. The last three weeks had seen a major restructuring within Rings & Roses. Mari had stepped down as CEO, finally admitting her leadership style might not be the best among the three of them—and this compromise solidified Pearl’s acceptance of her role at Rings & Roses as a full-time wedding planner and her newly minted title of chief of marketing. Jane stepped up as CEO with her logical thought process, even keel, and objectivity. Mari still could keep up her list and process obsessions as the chief of operations, in charge of building, maintenance, and procedures, which Pearl had agreed she would adhere to as part of the business’s standard operating procedures.
In the last three weeks, Pearl had shouldered more of the business than Mari could’ve imagined. With Pearl’s top, a new and affordable pricing strategy for family and friends, and new branding on the horizon, they were at the ground floor of a solid foundation. There would still be kinks to work through; their personalities were sure to clash at some point. But with Jane and her ever-steady hand, and Mari and Pearl’s commitment to giving each other the benefit of the doubt, hope had trickled back into Rings & Roses and the de la Rosa family.
These days, Mari had found pockets of time for new hobbies like sitting. And resting.
And without the Glynn wedding to plan . . .
A hurt burned in her stomach and radiated up her chest. It could have been the Riesling or the coffee before it. It had been three weeks since she’d heard from Hazel, and the pain from losing her and Reid lingered.
“No regrets,” she said aloud to her living room. It was what it was. This week, a wedding planner from Time of Your Life—Mari’s replacement—contacted her, requesting details about Hazel’s current wedding plans. Mari passed along what she’d coordinated to ensure the wedding’s success. While their standard contracts were ironclad and protected them from runaway clients—the Glynn couple had paid the necessary fees to cut ties—the act still caused her heart to ache.
Did she miss Reid? Absolutely. Yesterday, a For Sale sign had gone up in front of 2402, the metaphorical stake in her heart.
Halfway through her glass of wine, Mari spotted the lights of a car rolling up. It idled in front of her window before a figure made its way to the front door; the doorbell rang.
She set aside the cookbook on her lap, taking her time, when the bell rang again.
When the bell rang a third time, she yelled, “Goodness, I’ll be right there!” She stood, passed her hallway mirror, and spied the unicorn pajamas, fussy topknot, and makeup-free face she sported. She smiled at herself.
Was this what it was to forgive oneself? For one to be able to open one’s door despite their imperfections, their unkempt hair, and clutter in their home?
Whatever it meant, she might already be there. Two months ago, she wouldn’t have been caught dead outside of her apartment in unicorn pajamas.
Mari went to the foyer and peeked through the building’s peephole. “Who is it?”
The street and front porch light revealed little but rain and shadows. “Mari? It’s Hazel,” the figure said.
Hazel? Mari threw the door open.
Hazel wore a yellow slicker, and the rain cascaded off her jacket. Sopping wet tendrils of her blond hair whipped from under her hood.
“Hey. What’s going on? Are you okay?” Mari’s tone surprised even herself; there wasn’t a hint of stiffness in it.
“I didn’t know where else to go. Can I come in?”
Mari stepped aside. “Of course.”
Mari led the way into her apartment. Hazel peeled off her coat and hung it on the coatrack and stuck her umbrella in the stand inside the front door. Mari gestured toward the couch. “Would you like to sit?”
Hazel did not sit. Instead, she paced, trailing a citrus scent. She spoke in a jumble. Mari had just begun to process that Hazel was here, in her apartment—a place she’d never stepped foot in when she was a client—and she couldn’t keep up.
“Slow down,” Mari said.
“I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do.”
“You don’t have to do anything.”
“But I do, see.” She wrung her hands. “I ended it. I couldn’t go through with it, Mari. I couldn’t marry him.”
Mari pieced together Hazel’s incomplete sentences and thoughts, her heart hammering in her chest. “You called off the wedding.”
She nodded, crying now. “I walked out. He wanted . . . I picked up my dress. I decided not to change it after all, and he said he wouldn’t walk down the aisle with me in it. He said he wouldn’t have the mother of his child look like a . . .” She took a breath. “He was enraged, and I was so . . . so scared for us. I was already dressed—we were supposed to go to a play tonight. But I walked out. I literally . . . walked out.”
“Wow.” Inside, Mari wanted to give Hazel a high five, but she tempered her reaction. Right now, adrenaline was high. Sadness and mourning were sure to follow.
Hazel half laughed. “I know, right?”
“What can I do?”
“I dunno. Reid’s in town, but he isn’t home . . .”
“You can stay here until Reid gets back.”
“Thank you. God, I’m shaking.” She looked at her hands.
Hazel’s emotions, her shaking, the crying, the noise—it started to unsettle Mari. Her own breathing had become erratic, her heart rate sprinted, and sweat bloomed on her back. It was the start of anxiety—she identified it, the first step—but there was more beyond it. Fear.
It didn’t make any sense. Mari wasn’t in trou
ble, there were no signs of danger directed at her, but the trigger had been pulled, and she foresaw herself twisting into panic if she didn’t get help. Now. She was out of her league.
Mari picked up her phone and texted Reid. Hazel needs you. My house.
She looked at Hazel. “Wait here? I’m going to grab one of my sisters. I’m just going to step into the hall really quick. Okay?”
Hazel nodded fervently. “Okay.”
But when she opened her apartment door, Brad was on the other side. He was halfway up the stairs when he spun around, eyes blazing. “I want my fiancé.”
To Mari, time transformed from linear to multidimensional. Her past slipped into the present as seamlessly as cards appearing from a magician’s coat sleeve. With her feet seemingly superglued to the floor, her environment became fuzzy, and she was no longer in the town house’s foyer but in her apartment in Falls Church, and the man descending from the stairs was Saul.
But the man’s booming voice woke her from her trance. “Hazel, I know you’re here.”
Hazel.
Brad.
Still speechless, Mari backed into her doorway as Hazel whimpered behind her. With Brad taking the steps down in twos, she slammed her door shut, chest thudding.
Except the door didn’t shut. Brad had gotten to it first and pushed against it from the other side, yelling obscenities. He eased his shoe into the doorway—Mari watched it appear like a ghost in a horror movie. And after a microsecond where the door seemed to give, Mari was slammed on her ass when Brad rammed the door open with his body.
Tears sprang to Mari’s eyes at the stabbing pain in her tailbone, but that pain fell by the wayside when she watched Brad lumber to his fiancé and strong-arm her.
“No!” Mari’s voice erupted like lava from a volcano. Instinctual, primal, in solidarity. Her body followed suit, scrambled to standing. She lunged at Brad—shoved him aside. He loosened his grip on Hazel, giving Mari enough time to get in between them. In between Brad and Hazel and their baby.
