Annie and Ginny released Jen, turning to hug each other instead and giving me the chance to wrap my arms around her. I buried my face in her shoulder, not sure if I could trust my expression.
“Thank you, Kiki,” she said. Though I couldn’t see her face I could hear the tears in her voice. “You’re going to be such a good aunt. I can’t wait!”
I nodded mutely, squeezing her tight to hide my reaction. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Eric and Matt embracing. This is your family, I told myself. You have to be happy.
I felt like the rest of the night moved in slow motion. I tried to laugh and joke along with the others as we ate. Of course, no one could talk about anything other than the baby. The girls were over the moon for Jen, particularly Ginny, who had been alone in the mother’s club for the past four years.
“I’m so glad you didn’t wait!” she said. “Now your baby will be less than two years younger than Maggie. They’ll be such good friends!” Ginny started getting teary, prompting a snort from Annie, who had used up her sentimentality in the moments after Jen’s announcement and was now back to her slightly sarcastic self.
“Do you know the due date?” Nate asked.
“September,” Jen replied happily, taking a drink of her water. No wine glass for her. “A fall baby.”
“Are you going to find out what you’re having?” Josh asked.
“We haven’t decided,” Jen said, looking at Matt. “Matt wants to, but I’m torn.”
“Did you guys find out?” I asked, trying to stay present in the conversation. Ginny looked at me strangely.
“Yeah,” she said. “You knew that, Kiki. You helped throw that shower for me with Maggie, remember? Because I knew I was having a girl and couldn’t use all my same stuff from Danny.”
“Oh, yeah,” I said, feeling stupid. Of course I knew that.
“Are you okay?” Jen whispered to me as Ginny and Annie started debating baby names.
I grinned at her as largely as I could. “Of course,” I said. “I’m so happy I think I’m having a brain hiccup, or something.”
She didn’t look entirely convinced, but she let it go.
Somehow I managed to get through the night. I knew Jen could tell I wasn’t myself. I didn’t blame her. She probably expected me to be screaming and jumping up and down—in fact, it’s exactly the way I would have acted if she had told me only a week before. I felt terrible for my lack of enthusiasm, and prayed I wasn’t putting a damper on her own excitement. She didn’t seem put off, though. She and the girls chatted constantly, clearly overjoyed about the news.
“Babe, I don’t feel too good,” Eric said shortly after the plates had been cleared. “That headache came back with a vengeance. Would you mind if we take off?”
I was so grateful for his cover that I almost burst into tears. Sitting there was torture, so much worse than I could have imagined. And feeling that way, knowing that my own selfishness could be marring Jen’s big night, in turn made me feel incredibly guilty. All I wanted was to get out of that house.
We said our goodbyes quickly. I think I managed to keep a smile on my face as I hugged the girls and Matt. Jen squeezed me extra tight, and held on much longer than I was used to from her. I squeezed her back, wishing I could feel anything other than this awful weight on my chest.
Out in the car, Eric once again held my hand tightly in his own as he drove. We didn’t speak the entire way home. When Eric finally pulled into our parking space in the underground garage, I cleared my throat. “Thank you. For getting us out of there.” My voice sounded scratchy, raw. As if I had been crying, instead of sitting there in silence.
Eric stared straight ahead. I wondered if he was going to say something, try to make me feel better somehow. In the end, he only nodded wordlessly.
There was nothing else to say.
Chapter Fifteen
Work on Monday was difficult. I had arranged to have a bouquet of flowers sent to the office, to be there waiting when Jen arrived. When I called in the order I felt a pang, remembering how I had done the same thing only months before, to welcome her home from her honeymoon. Then I had been desperately trying to think of a way to convince Eric we were ready for kids. And now… How had everything changed so much in such a short amount of time?
Jen was beside herself when she saw the flowers, crying loudly and throwing her arms around me in a very un-Jen-like manner. “Sorry,” she sniffed, smiling at me. “It’s just the hormones.”
“Don’t apologize,” I said, smiling at her. I was getting better at the whole smiling-when-I-felt-sad thing. I had even practiced in the shower. I was determined that Jen would have no idea that her pregnancy brought anything other than complete joy. And I was happy for her, truly I was. It was hard to recognize, under my own pain, but when I could filter that out, I realized that I wanted Jen and Matt to be happy, that, in fact, I probably would put their happiness second only to that of my own husband. They had become some of the most important people in my life. And they would make great parents.
It’s just bad timing, I told myself as I headed into my own office. Just bad timing. It’s what Eric and I had spent the entire day before telling each other, trying to convince each other that we weren’t bad people for feeling sad and jealous when our own family shared the news that they were about to be parents.
In my office, I sank into my chair, feeling exhausted already. It was barely nine a.m. The nightmares had continued all weekend, only now I wasn’t so noisy when I woke up, meaning Eric got to sleep through most of it. I had considered waking him when I couldn’t get the beating of my heart to slow down, but in the end I let him sleep. No reason for both of us to be miserable.
I powered on my computer and flicked idly though my planner as I waited for it to load. We had a fairly busy week, with a birthday party and two restaurant openings coming up. Busy was good. Busy would keep me from breaking down.
I opened my Excel spreadsheet for the restaurant opening on Thursday, my most pressing event. I ran my eyes down the list, checking off each item as I went. We were in pretty good shape with this one. Everything was booked, the décor and entertainment signed off on. All that was left was the setup the day of.
Before I could move on to the birthday party, my phone beeped loudly. “Mrs. Thompson? There’s a call for you on line one.”
I considered using the intercom to ask Barbara who it was, but decided I didn’t really care. You need to perk up a little, a voice in the back of my mind urged. You have work to do. I picked up the receiver and pressed the button for line one. “Hello, this is Kiki Barker-Thompson of Ever After Events. How can I help you?”
“Kiki?” squealed a vaguely familiar voice. “Oh, my God, Kiki, I can’t believe it’s you!”
“Um,” I murmured, struggling to put a face with the voice.
“It’s me, Sarah! Sarah Vandermark!”
“Oh my God, Sarah! Hello! How have you been?” My voice sounded pleasant enough, hopefully even excited to hear from her, but inside my stomach had just plummeted. Sarah Vandermark? Oh, God, I so did not need this right now.
“I’m fine. Wonderful, really! I just got engaged,” she gushed. “Tom finally popped the question, can you believe it? We’re getting married in the summer.”
“Congratulations,” I said. “Sarah, that’s really wonderful for you.”
“Well, you must know why I’m calling,” Sarah went on. “As soon as it was official, I just knew I needed to get in touch with you. You must do my wedding, Kiks. You really must.”
Inwardly, I groaned. I had guessed it would come to this as soon as the word “engaged” came out of her mouth. I wondered where on earth I would find the strength to try to be pleasant to Sarah Vandermark for the next several months.
Maybe it won’t happen, I thought. Maybe we’ll have a scheduling issue. Maybe I’ll make up a scheduling issue.
On the other end of the phone, Sarah was still prattling on. “I mean, Mommy told me I should use so
meone more experienced, of course; you know how she is. In fact, she suggested we use those people who did your wedding—don’t they handle a lot of stuff for your father?”
“They used to—”
“But I told her to forget it,” Sarah went on, oblivious. “I said we simply must support Kiki’s little venture.”
I gritted my teeth, wishing I could hit Sarah over the head with my phone. Oh, why, oh why did she have to call me?
“So we should do lunch ASAP,” she was saying. “And we can go over everything. What do you think?”
“Lunch would be nice,” I said, my voice sounding dangerously sweet in my own ears. It was a good thing Sarah didn’t really know me that well.
“Perfect!”
We made arrangements to meet the following week for lunch at a restaurant in Birmingham. As I wrote down the details I mentally prayed the dates wouldn’t work out. “I just can’t wait to see you,” Sarah said before we ended the call. “You’re a topic of hot conversation, you know.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, Kiks, of course! Everyone is just dying to know what you get up to these days. You’ve practically dropped off the face of the earth.”
I rolled my eyes. “Well, it will be nice to catch up.”
“It will. Oh, Kiks, I’m so excited. I’ll see you tomorrow, sweetie. Ta ta!”
I had forgotten that she did that, saying “ta ta” at the end of every conversation in that horribly affected voice of hers. Ugh. Who did she think she was fooling?
I looked down at my calendar where I had penciled in the lunch appointment and groaned. A part of me, the part that still remembered what it felt like to be thirteen years old, wanted to cross out the date and simply refuse. But I knew exactly how big an account this would be. A wedding the size of what I was quite sure Sarah and, more importantly, her mother, were thinking would give Jen and me enough commission to pretty much run the shop for the next six months. I couldn’t just refuse out of hand.
Sighing, I stood up, figuring I better go tell Jen all about it.
***
“Okay, let me get this straight,” Jen said, peering at me over her turkey sandwich. “You really, really dislike this girl?”
“Pretty much,” I grumbled, poking unenthusiastically at my salad. Jen and I were taking our lunch break together in the little break room that doubled as our conference room when meeting with clients. I had just given her the barest details about Sarah’s wedding that morning, but from that, Jen had gleaned my less-than-thrilled attitude and had been pressing me to explain myself since we sat down at the table.
“Wow,” Jen said, leaning back in her chair. “I’m a little shocked, Kiki.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve never heard you talk about anyone that you didn’t like,” she said seriously. “I mean, you always seem to be able to find at least some good in everyone.”
“You don’t know Sarah,” I muttered, pushing my unappealing salad away and twisting the lid off my water bottle. “She’s a monster, Jen.”
Jen raised her eyebrows. “Really?”
I sighed. “I went to school with her,” I said, figuring I may as well get it out there. “And college, come to think of it. She was the kind of girl that tore you down behind your back, but acted like your friend to your face. She could get your best friend to turn against you.” I felt a slight pang in my chest at my words but tried to ignore it. “She could steal your boyfriend and somehow convince everyone that she hadn’t meant any harm. Everyone hated her, but we were all too scared of her to do anything about it. It was like, people still needed her approval. God knows why.”
Jen was looking at me intently. “What?” I asked, feeling uncomfortable under her gaze.
“Nothing,” she said, shaking her head. “I just…I just have a hard time picturing it, I guess. You, taking that kind of shit from someone. It doesn’t seem like you.”
I gave her a small smile. “I guess it’s not; not anymore at least. But when I was thirteen and felt totally insecure? You better believe I put up with it.”
Jen shook her head again. “An insecure Kiki. The mind boggles.”
If you only knew, Jen, I thought to myself. “So anyhow,” I said. “That’s the story of why I detest Sarah Vandermark.”
“Cancel the meeting,” Jen said. “Call her back and tell her our summer is looking insane and you can’t imagine adding another big event. Better yet, have Barbara do it; then you don’t even have to talk to her.”
“I would love to do that,” I said. “But I can’t, Jen. I’m not sure if you understand the massiveness of this job. It’s going to be huge. Like, as big as my wedding. Do you have any idea what kind of commission we’re talking?”
“Yeah, but Kiks, if you’re going to be miserable working on it, it won’t be worth it. No amount of money is worth feeling that way. I was a teenage girl, too you know. I totally understand how you feel.”
I had to laugh at that. “I have a hard time imagining Annie ever letting anyone make you feel that way.”
Jen grinned. “True. But I didn’t meet her until ninth grade. Junior high was a horror show for a broke-ass kid with an alcoholic father.”
I reached over to pat her hand. Poor Jen. Anytime we talked about her growing up, I felt guilty for ever complaining about my own life.
“Cancel it, Kiki. I’m serious.”
I was quiet for a moment, not really wanting to mention what was going through my mind. “Jen,” I finally said. “You’re having a baby. You’re going to be going out on maternity leave in the not-too-distant future. Now is really not a good time to be turning down work, you know? And something like this…God, Jen, it could cover our expenses for months and months.”
“I don’t want you doing this just because of my baby—”
“I’m not,” I said. “Though your baby is also my niece or nephew, you know. But in all honesty, I would be doing it for our business. Which happens to mean quite a lot to me.” I smiled at her and she grinned back.
“Well, you’re not doing it alone,” she said. “If we decide to take this job, we treat it like all our other clients—we both do the work, right?”
“Right,” I said. I thought for a moment. “Actually, I like that. If you spend any time with her, maybe you’ll decide to kill her before I do.”
Jen winked at me. “We could probably use pregnancy hormones as a pretty good defense.”
I raised my water bottle and clinked it against hers. “Now you’re talking.”
Chapter Sixteen
I had hoped that my impending lunch date with Sarah would take my mind off the baby situation, but I was disappointed. The sadness was still there, every hour of the day, but it was now colored by a healthy dose of dread at having to see Sarah.
On Thursday night I decided to call Kara. I had been avoiding her calls all week. I had spoken with her briefly right after the miscarriage, wanting her to know what had happened. She had been amazing, as ever, crying right along with me as I blubbered the news. But I hadn’t wanted to rehash any of it in the days since, so every time she called I made my excuses.
On Thursday, however, I received a package from her in the mail. It consisted of a giant box of Godiva chocolates with a card that read, “To make you feel better.” Under the chocolates was a carefully wrapped bottle of wine. “In case the candy doesn’t work,” according to the card. Under that was a piece of stationary with her monogram on the top. Here she had written her phone number and the words, “If all else fails, call.”
After I stopped crying, I picked up my cell phone and called her. I figured I had shut her out long enough. Besides, if anyone could appreciate how much I was dreading seeing Sarah it was Kara.
“Oh, shut up,” she said once I had told her. “Are you kidding me? You’re actually thinking of going through with this?”
“I have to, Kar,” I told her. “It’s more money than we make in six months.”
“Not worth it,” she said firml
y. “Run away, Kiks. Run, don’t walk.”
“Jen’s having a baby,” I whispered. I heard her gasp on the other end of the phone. “She’ll want to take maternity time. If I do this wedding I won’t have to stress about getting by when she’s gone.”
“When did you find out?” Kara asked, her voice soft and sympathetic. Something about her tone made me feel choked up.
“Last week,” I said quietly.
“Jesus,” she whispered. “You poor thing. Did you tell her about you?”
“No,” I said, eyeing the wine bottle. Maybe I should have opened it before starting this conversation. “I never got the chance. And I can hardly tell her now.”
“Of course you can!” Kara said. “She’s your sister-in-law, for Pete’s sake. You have to tell her.”
“I don’t want her to know,” I whispered, tears filling my eyes. Damn it. I had so wanted to get through this without crying. I was tired of crying.
“Oh, sweetie,” Kara said, and I knew she understood everything, even without my telling her.
“I feel so guilty, Kar,” I gasped, really crying now. “What kind of a monster feels jealous and resentful when her sister tells her she’s pregnant?”
“You’re not a monster,” she said firmly. “Don’t even think that. It’s totally normal to feel what you feel, Kiki. Don’t you dare beat yourself up over it.”
“I’m trying,” I sniffed, pulling myself together. From my seat on the couch I was able to just about reach the box of tissues, and I blew my nose loudly, luckily remembering to pull the phone away.
“I still think you should tell Jen,” Kara said once I was back on the line. “I think it would make you feel better. And I’m sure Eric would want to tell his brother.”
I frowned at that. Eric and I hadn’t really talked about whether or not he wanted to talk to Matt. Was he avoiding it because of me?
“I’ll talk to Eric,” I promised.
“So, are you really going to go through with this whole Sarah Vandermark fiasco?” Kara asked, humor returning to her voice. “What if you lose it and put anthrax in her wedding cake?”
The Truth About Ever After (Three Girls) Page 11
