"Definitely the gray." Sherri's voice contained not a hint of uncertainty. "Brown is so…brown. And you already have the dark trim. Trust me when I say you don't want a house full of brown."
The dark trim. Not for long, apparently. Three days ago she'd listened wide-eyed in her living room as her new interior designer, Mitzi Carlisle-Fitzpatrick, exhaled design advice with the force of an F-5 tornado.
During their hour-long consultation, Mitzi packed about three hundred questions into the first half hour and then spent another forty-five minutes walking through rooms.
Among the tips that stuck out in Erin's mind were to paint the downstairs trim ("It'll brighten things up in here and make the rooms feel so much more open. Trust me, you'll feel like the house has doubled in size."), update the living room furniture, which she already knew ("I'd replace these tables, too, not just the sofa and chairs. And don't go matchy-matchy."), and have curtains made for the living room and den ("Use the same fabric in both rooms to bring continuity to the spaces. Also, and this is key, splurge on custom draperies. It makes all the difference in the world.").
Erin would have to trust her on that one. She'd since priced custom curtains, and the figure had made her eyes pop in their sockets. She and Ben earned good incomes, especially Ben, but they were both still paying grad school loans, and high-end décor wasn't in the budget. Erin wished she could hire Mitzi for more than a consultation—she wished she could hire her to do it all, straight down to picking out art and hanging it on the walls. Maybe in a few years, after Ben got another promotion, or at least after Erin was sure she'd be employed beyond the February sweeps.
For now she was on her own with the purchasing decisions, so she'd called Sherri for an emergency shopping session while Mitzi's advice was still fresh. Armed with paint swatches and Erin's notes, they'd already hit two fabric shops and were now wandering among the vignettes in Room & Board. Erin knew nothing about furniture retailers, but Sherri's latest obsession was design, and she'd squealed with excitement when Erin asked her for help.
Sherri had definitely picked the store to cater to Erin's lack of decorating sense because this place made it easy. Instead of line after intimidating line of sofas, the furniture was displayed in finished room vignettes complete with rugs, accent tables, and accessories—perfect for somebody like her with no imagination. She also knew the clean mid-century lines would appeal to Ben.
Ben had said he'd go shopping with her, but Erin had given up waiting. Last week's romantic reunion already felt like a distant memory. Most nights she was in bed before Ben got home. And even though he was home for a while, he was basically running the Florida lab long-distance—his team called him every time the smallest decision had to be made.
Still, she preferred to have him here rather than away. Especially since at home he was safe from Melody showing up stark naked on his doorstep.
Erin almost gagged at the thought.
"I'll go with this one, then." She plopped onto a charcoal sofa with a durable-looking thick weave. It had square edges and button-tufted back cushions, but for all its angles it was very comfortable. Plus it was huge and formed an L-shape, which meant she could get by with only having to pick out one new chair instead of two.
"Well, that was easy," Sherri said, easing onto the sofa beside Erin, her baby bump resting on her lap like a neat round pillow.
Even though she wasn't very big yet, Sherri moved more like a pregnant woman these days. She could feel the baby move now, and Erin had sat with her hand on Sherri's stomach for a solid fifteen minutes earlier that morning, waiting for a kick. Erin reached over and rested a hand on her stomach again, hoping to feel another flutter.
"She's not moving around right now," Sherri said, laughing. "When I do a lot of walking around, I think she goes to sleep. It's when I'm sitting still that she goes crazy. Or when I'm trying to sleep."
"Oh." Erin pulled her hand away. "She?" she said, giving Sherri a questioning look.
Sherri's cheeks grew pink. "Oh, I don't know yet," she said. "You know I'd have told you. I just have this strong feeling she's a she."
Her flush spread out, bringing the phrase "pleased as punch" to Erin's mind. She hadn't told Sherri why she was suddenly so fascinated by her pregnancy and by babies in general. Lately it seemed like she was spotting pregnant women and babies everywhere. Had there always been this many around, or was Dallas experiencing an unprecedented boom?
As she had the thought, a little girl passed in front of them clasping her mother's hand. Erin studied them—the mom was around her age and was wearing a knee-length swing dress and high-heeled wedges. The girl, probably around four, had sweet blonde ringlets and orange smudges down the right side of her dress, some remnant of an earlier snack. In her right hand was a tattered pink bunny that she held by one ear, the fluff of its mangled tail bouncing off the floor with every two or three steps.
She didn't realize she was staring until Sherri said, "Erin? Did you hear me?" She followed Erin's gaze and then looked back at her, quirking an eyebrow.
"No, sorry." Erin glanced quickly away from the mom and daughter. "What did you ask?"
"I asked if you'd measured," Sherri said, humor in her eyes. "Are you sure this is going to fit?"
Erin's mouth formed into an O. No, she hadn't measured, and she hadn't thought to bring along Mitzi's rough sketches. The woman was a wizard with a tape measure and a mechanical pencil. Ten minutes and she'd had the front rooms measured and translated to paper, complete with windows, doors, and dimensions.
"No, but Mitzi did recommend a sectional." Erin paused, contemplating. Much as she wanted this to be over, she also wanted her new sofa to fit in the room—and through the front door.
Just then a salesperson walked over and began asking some of the same questions Mitzi had asked. Within thirty minutes Erin had talked through the project with the woman and felt much better about her ability to put Mitzi's plans into action. She'd go home, look at the drawings, measure the doorways, and come back with photos and sketches before placing an order.
By the time she and Sherri headed to lunch, she figured she was already halfway to the point of crossing item No. 29: Finally buy new living room furniture off her list.
* * *
"There's something you're not telling me."
Sherri stuffed a sweet potato fry into her mouth and gave Erin a pointed look.
"What do you mean?" Erin took a long pull on her straw, avoiding Sherri's gaze.
She wasn't sure why she felt uncomfortable talking about this. Maybe because it was still a foreign concept, this idea of wanting to get pregnant instead of trying to prevent it. Sherri would be thrilled for her, but she still found it hard to admit to her pregnant friend that she coveted her swelling stomach.
"I mean something's going on," she said with her mouth full, "and you're not clueing me in." She swallowed. "Is Ben still mad about Leo?" Her eyes got wider. "Or has something else happened with Melody?"
"No. I mean, God, I hope not."
Erin looked down at her drink. She and Ben had just started trying. She didn't want to jinx it by telling people, not even Sherri. Not even her mom. Her biological clock presented enough pressure on its own—she didn't want to have to answer questions every month about whether or not she was pregnant yet. What if she was already too old? What if she couldn't get pregnant?
"Well, are you worried about the show tonight, then?"
Erin nodded, pushing pregnancy worries out of her head. "Yes, definitely." She picked up her fried fish taco and nibbled off a bite.
Sherri was hanging around for the show and spending the night in Erin's guest room. Erin loved that they were turning YOLO into a girls' night in. Ben didn't think he'd make it home in time, so Erin had invited her mom, Missy, and Hilary to join her and Sherri. Erin sure hoped this viewing party would have less drama than the last one.
"What on earth compelled you to invite Hilary?" Sherri made a face.
"Actually, she kind
of called at just the right moment." Erin paused. "Or the wrong moment, if you want to look at it that way."
Erin didn't mind Hilary. She never had, really, even though she couldn't quite explain why to somebody like Sherri, who was an actual good friend. Hilary was whiny and needy and selfish, and she'd backstabbed Erin all through school and into adulthood, even though Erin had been nothing but loyal to her through the years. But she'd reaped what she'd sowed and seemed to have very few friends, even among the mommy groups that now comprised her entire social life. She'd quit her job in PR and was home with the kids full-time while Mark worked long hours at his architecture firm. Erin felt sorry for her. To some extent, she guessed she always had.
Sherri had never hidden her dislike of Hilary. She hadn't usurped Hilary as Erin's best friend on purpose—that was more Hilary's MO than Sherri's—but that was definitely how things had turned out. Sherri was the one Erin texted nonstop and talked to on an almost daily basis, even though Hilary lived in a nearby suburb and Sherri was three hours away in Austin. Erin almost never thought to call Hilary, but Hilary did still call her. Especially lately.
"Well, if the show goes south and she makes one single dumbass comment, don't expect me to keep my mouth shut."
Erin smirked. "Don't expect me to keep my mouth shut, either." She paused, her brows knitting together. "Hopefully the show won't go south."
"I'll drink to that."
Sherri lifted her water glass, and Erin tapped her own glass against it. She had a feeling this was one wish that would go unanswered.
* * *
Watching herself on-screen, Erin burst out laughing.
And her mother, Sherri, Hilary, Missy, and Ben—who'd darted through the back door five minutes into the show, crashing their girls' night—gaped at her like she'd lost her final strangle hold on sanity.
Granted, it was mortifying. Her story was getting twice as much airtime as any of the other cast members', and Leo had captured every facet of her horror over learning that Ben's flight had been delayed. He'd even managed to pick up snippets of the phone call—and argument—that she'd tried to keep private, holed away in the dark meeting room. He'd also caught a conversation between Hilary and Erin's cousin, Christa—who'd acted their entire lives as if she and Erin were in competition—debating whether or not the wedding would get called off.
Erin's favorite part was when Christa said nastily, "We flew across the country for this. Aunt Joanne and Uncle Bob should have to reimburse my family for the plane tickets."
And then Hilary, in Hi-Def clarity, answered with, "Are you kidding me? Watching this train wreck is better than a boring old wedding any day. And you get to be on TV. That is definitely worth the money."
Every head turned to Hilary when the scene aired, but nobody said a word, not even Sherri. Hilary's expression was one of calculated indecision, like a politician trapped by a debate moderator, searching for a way to deflect attention without admitting guilt. Finally she shrugged her shoulders and just said, "Sorry."
Erin cracked up again. She'd suspected all along that ancillary fame was the reason Hilary had accepted her wedding invitation. At least she was witnessing Hilary's embarrassment this time instead of the other way around.
"God," Erin gasped when the show went to commercial, her side hurting from all the chuckling. "Leo is all over this. I halfway think he'd had it planned the whole time. Hell, maybe he and Jarvis cooked up the idea for ratings."
Ben in particular looked pissed off at this idea. "You think he hit on you for ratings?"
"You think he sexually harassed you on purpose?" Sherri added.
Erin cut herself off mid guffaw. "No, I think that was real." She shuddered. She noticed that her mom looked horrified—Erin hadn't told her about the night in the parking lot. She kept going before Joanne could ask.
"But they couldn't have orchestrated Ben's flight delays—not even Jarvis could conjure up an act of God." Erin shook her head. "Still, I think Leo knew from the very first shoot that the key to my story line was going to be marriage trouble."
Ben looked offended, and Hilary's face was frozen in a mask of, OMG, did she just say that? Erin smiled wryly.
"It's reality TV, guys. I knew myself, as it was happening, that if it hadn't been me in front of the camera, I'd have been zooming in on the 'will he leave her stranded at the altar?' stuff, too. It isn't pretty, but it's the way it is." She shook her head, grimacing. "I knew exactly what I was walking into."
Both Ben and her mom started to protest, but the show's intro music piped back up, and all their heads swiveled to the screen. Erin was surprised at how strangely settled she felt. She'd opened up her life to adventure, and adventure was certainly what she got.
The episode ended on a cliffhanger shot of Erin crumpled on the ground of the ruined wedding venue, Sherri and Joanne exchanging a worried look at the edge of the meadow. Erin watched in a kind of rueful awe, thinking the execution of the whole thing had been brilliant. Even she was anxious to tune in next week to see what happened.
"You've got reporters ringing your phone off the hook," Ben said as soon as the screen faded to commercial. "You could go on TV tomorrow morning and put a stop to this crap. They can't treat you like this."
Erin shook her head, enjoying the fact that for once she was the calm one while Ben was freaking out. "Yes, they can," she said, matter-of-factly.
"So you think the best plan of action is just to sit here and say and do nothing while they destroy our reputations on national television?"
"I think there's nothing else we can do," Erin said, flinching with guilt that Ben had to deal with fallout from the show, too, not just her. But at least the worst thing his employers would witness would be his hard-core dedication to his job.
She sighed. "I signed a contract that says I can't breathe a word about the outcome of the show until it's over, remember?"
Ben grimaced, but didn't argue.
A plan was starting to formulate in Erin's mind, one she realized she couldn't share even with her own friends and family. And suddenly, instead of dreading the season finale, set to take place in front of a live New York audience in mere weeks, she found herself keenly looking forward to it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Alone, Alone, Alone
March 3, three months, one week to thirty-five
The great thing about having a list of intimidating tasks to complete in a short period of time was that it was an absolutely fantastic distraction.
Over the next few weeks, Erin threw herself into her list with a new passion. She even started revisiting old items from her lists, calling Northside Community Center to renew her commitment as a tutor/mentor for the summer, finally showing her face at a yoga session, and visiting the cooking school's website to register for three more classes. She hoped she'd run into Arturo again.
Meanwhile, next up was No. 30: Donate my hair. To a lot of people, getting a haircut might not seem like much of a sacrifice, but for Erin it was daunting. Her thick, wavy hair had been shoulder blade-length or longer since at least middle school. She didn't wear much makeup, didn't take forever in the bathroom, and hardly ever wore high heels. Her hair was her one nod to high maintenance.
She wasn't sure what type of short cut might look good on her. She browsed hairstyle websites and checked out celeb photos but was still undecided when she booked her appointment with Mia, the hairstylist who'd dyed her locks blonde during the 30 First Dates days. The fact that she'd have to go on live national television with this new, as yet undetermined haircut was terrifying, but Mia wouldn't send her out the door looking ridiculous. It definitely helped that she was doing it for a good cause.
"It's just hair," she muttered when she hung up the phone. "It's. Just. Hair."
She decided not to tell Ben about the appointment. If she surprised him, she'd see his real reaction written all over his face. If he knew it was coming, he was more likely to do that poker-faced guy thing and lie.
Once
the hair appointment was squared away and she'd Googled how to donate her ponytail to Locks of Love, she started pondering the last few items on the list. At this rate she'd finish ahead of schedule, which was quite a feat considering how slow she'd been to get started.
Item No. 31 was the most intimidating of all. When she'd written the list, she'd lumped the crazy stuff near the end on purpose, thinking she should have a final fling—one last nod to immaturity—before turning the corner to full-on adulting and prospective parenthood. Dancing on a bar top, joining the mile-high club…what had she been thinking? The former clearly needed to involve getting wasted, something she hadn't done in a long, long time. The latter meant she'd need to convince Ben to take another vacation—she couldn't exactly complete No. 34: Join the mile-high club without Ben.
A to-do list formed in her brain…talk to Ben, look at flights, start researching hotels. But really all of it was just a distraction from the true obstacle looming ahead of her—the YOLO episode with the ballroom dancing segment was coming up fast.
Erin had managed to maintain her new blasé attitude toward the show through three more episodes, trying to appreciate Leo's and Jeanette's and Jarvis' storytelling skills while squelching her irritation that it was her story they were spinning. The wedding scenes were epic with Leo's crew zooming in at all the key moments and capturing the spiraling tensions of Erin and her guests. She saw things on-screen that she'd missed in real life, like the look on her own face when Brian had pulled out Ben's battered spiral notebook during his rehearsal dinner speech. Ben, who was seeing most of it for the first time, turned his head during that part and pretended to scratch his chin on his shoulder, but Erin knew he was hiding his emotion.
She appreciated that Jarvis didn't dedicate much airtime to her honeymoon—at least some things were sacred…or maybe it was just that Carsyn Caro's skydiving escapade formed the crux of that night's show. Leo had caught a moment she hadn't known he'd witnessed—a kiss outside Galleria dell'Accademia in Florence when she and Ben thought they were alone. It was a sweet picture, and this time it was Erin who teared up, grateful in spite of everything that YOLO had given her these keepsakes she and Ben couldn't have had otherwise.
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