“Oh yeah, I’ll be fine.”
* * *
Ten minutes later, William and I were seated across from each other, beers in hand, in an establishment that can best be described as a dive, which is what I love about Manhattan. Gazillions of dollars of jewels within a hop, skip, and a jump from a bar that reminds me of home—where your feet stick to the floor and white wine spritzers are not on the menu. Jordana would sooner be caught buying flatware at Target than spotted here.
“So what’s going on?” The music was a little too loud for a heart to heart—and it was country, which was pretty unforgiveable in and of itself—but I certainly wasn’t going to complain. “You don’t seem like your usual happy self.”
“Am I making a mistake?”
Yes. “You know I can’t answer that.”
“We’re friends, right?” He finished his beer in three swigs and motioned to the waiter for a shot of tequila. “You want one?”
“Oh, no thank you.” If I started downing shots, I’d never make it to dinner with Sara. Also, I still have to maintain a degree of professionalism with William if I want to keep my job. Which I do. Until all of this is over, and I’ve ruined his life. Or saved his life. It’s amazing how fine the line might be between those two.
“So, as I was saying, we’re friends, right?”
“Yes, we are friends.” I savored that thought, even though, in my heart, I wish we were so much more.
“Then tell me. Should I marry Tatiana? I just need someone—anyone—to tell me honestly.” He kicked back the tequila and politely requested another.
“Do you want to maybe slow down on those?”
“No.” Got it.
“Why don’t you give me a sense of why you’re asking this? What exactly is on your mind?”
“It’s all just too much.” He shook his head.
“Okay, so I remember you saying that Tatiana is different than she used to be and that she’s been extra irritable lately.” I started to walk him through it. “And I know you’ve had some doubt, but—again—I want to assure you that it’s completely natural to have jitters this close to your wedding day. I know Jordana’s seen it with plenty of our brides and grooms. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” I hated myself for sounding like a PSA. This is your brain. This is your brain on marital bliss.
“It’s more than that.” Another shot down the hatchet. “It’s become very clear to me that we’re not headed in the same direction. We want different things in life.”
“Are you sure?” I asked. “You both enjoy spending time at the country club.” It was the only thing I could come up with.
“I hate it there.”
“Come on, that’s not true.”
“No, it is. I hate the country club. And everyone who belongs there.” He was slurring now, as the waiter brought another shot. “What am I doing, Olivia? How did I get to this place?” I’ve wondered the same thing about myself.
“You got here because you love Tatiana. You said you did.”
“It feels like another lifetime.”
“But you didn’t propose in another lifetime. That was only a few months ago.”
“That’s not exactly what happened.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The proposal wasn’t really my choice.”
“Don’t tell me she asked you to marry her? No way.”
“No. But she did ask me to ask her to marry me. She said all of her friends were getting engaged and that it would be humiliating for her to be the last one married. Ethel was really pushing for it too. We’d been together for so long. It was almost like if I didn’t do it, I’d embarrass myself and everyone else.” He shrugged, defeated. “It just seemed like what was supposed to happen. Like it was the next natural step and there was no sense in delaying it. Isn’t that a great reason to commit your life to someone?”
“And, again, I’m just playing devil’s advocate here. You’ve had months to change your mind. You could have backed out at any point.”
“Ha!” He laughed cynically. “Once Tatiana and her mother started planning the wedding, it was all over. I was either on the train going full speed or I was stranded at the station.” Another shot.
“Okay, you really need to stop drinking. For one, you can’t think lucidly. And beyond that, I’m not strong enough to throw you over my shoulder.” I smiled and placed my hand on top of his.
“Tatiana doesn’t want children,” he blurted, and then looked at me with sad eyes.
“What?” I was stung on his behalf. On my own behalf. “How do you know?”
“She said it last night. She’d spent the day with her brother’s kid. Nico. He’s two. She said it was a total fucking nightmare—those were her exact words—like she’d had a bad bout of food poisoning.” I thought about Dante and how difficult he can be. Still, even on his worst day, Sara adores him within an inch of her life.
“Ouch.”
“Yup. So there’s that.”
“And you definitely do want kids?” I imagined William cradling a baby in his arms. I envisioned him encouraging his son to take his first steps. Or watching his little girl twirl around in a pink tutu. There’s no doubt in my mind that he’ll make an amazing father.
“Of course I want kids. And she knows that.”
“I’m sure she’ll come around.”
“Are you? What if she doesn’t? And what other bombs is she going to drop after we get married.”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, neither do I. And I’m afraid to find out. What am I doing?”
“Okay, listen. Calm down. This is all going to be fine. You need to go home and tell Tatiana how you feel. You need to explain to her how important it is for you to be a father and that one tough day with a child doesn’t mean anything. She’ll hear you. I’m sure of it.” I wasn’t sure of it. And there was a part of me that didn’t want him to say any of it. Tatiana doesn’t deserve him.
“You really are amazing, Olivia,” he said, but I knew it was the booze talking. “Maybe you’re right.”
“Okay, let me ask you this. Are you in love with Tatiana?” Please say no.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“I’m so confused.” He folded his arms on the table and slumped his head on top.
“Oh, William.” I wasn’t sure what else to say. “Let’s get you home so you can sleep it off. I bet things will look clearer in the morning.”
“I don’t think so.” He shook his head as I helped him to his feet. And then he held on to my hand as we made our way out of the bar and into the light of day. I checked my watch. There was no way I was going to make it in time to meet Sara for dinner. With any luck, she’ll cut me some slack.
“Let’s get you a cab.” He followed me onto the street, as I held my arm up and a taxi pulled right in front of us.
“Thank you.” He stumbled.
“I’m coming with you.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Yeah, I do.”
“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Olivia.”
“You’d be just fine.” We both got in, and I gave the driver William’s address.
Once we’d rolled to a stop outside of William’s apartment building, I watched him fumble to find his wallet in his jacket pocket, to no avail.
“I’ve got it, don’t worry.” He didn’t put up a fight this time. He didn’t have it in him.
“You’re such a good person.” He leaned toward me until I could feel his breath on my skin. I should have backed away. But I didn’t. I couldn’t.
Instead, I did something icky. Only because I knew he wouldn’t remember it the next day.
I said, “Hey, you never did tell me where Camp David is.”
His expression was bewildered, eyes half-closed,
but he didn’t hesitate. “Private island, not far off Grand Cayman.”
“Are you going to be okay?” I whispered, as the moonlight streamed through the window, casting its sultry glow on us.
“I hope so,” he whispered, and cupped my face in his hands. My heart was trembling with anticipation.
“Come here.” Without warning, he pulled me closer and touched his lips to mine. Quickly. Gently. Almost as if it had never happened. Then got out of the taxi and walked into his building alone.
And I sat there. Overcome by the compulsion to tell him how I felt about him. To tell him to choose me. To forget Tatiana. To confess everything and beg for his forgiveness.
But I didn’t. Not yet.
33JORDANA
“What am I going to do with him?” my mother asked.
I was surprised to learn that my father wanted to be cremated. I figured a man like him would want to remain in one solid piece so he could terrorize people in the afterlife.
“Flush him down the toilet?” I suggested, thankful that I’d be long gone by the time she received his ashes.
“That’s not funny,” she scolded. I knew there had to be a part of her that was relieved he was gone, even though she’d never admit it.
“Well, I don’t think I’m the right person to ask, then.” We were walking side by side along Compo Beach in Westport—an affluent coastal town in Fairfield County where Manhattan transplants flock to greener grass, cleaner air, and sand between their toes. Where kids can ride bikes around their neighborhood, swim in the ocean on a weekday afternoon, and walk to their friends’ houses without looking over their shoulders. John thinks I grew up here.
“I wish you wouldn’t go yet.” She’d asked for one more hour with me. I couldn’t say no—the woman had just lost her husband.
“I know. But this is my busiest time at work.” I paused for a moment to watch a young girl, no older than three, lapping a leaky ice cream cone until her chin was gooey and her shirt was stained with chocolate.
“You’ll come back soon?”
“I don’t think so.” We continued on.
“But . . .”
“Don’t worry, Mom. We’ll find a way.” I picked up a shell but it was cracked, so I let it drop. The truth is, I don’t know if we’ll find a way. One thing I do know is that I can’t hold on to the anger I felt toward my mother any longer. Maybe she did do the best she could. It’s just too complicated to think about now.
“Just stay for a few more minutes.” She gazed out over the water.
“You’ll be fine without him,” I encouraged, as two women dressed in yoga gear sped past us, pumping their arms as they chatted easily. Not a care in the world. Or maybe it just seemed that way. Maybe they have secrets too. “You’ll be better off.”
“I’m not strong like you, Jordana.” She shook her head.
“Yes, you are.” She had to be to have survived him.
She faced me then. “I’m sorry. For everything.”
“It’s okay, Mom.” And if it wasn’t, it would be.
“No, it’s not. I should have stopped him. I should have done something. Anything. I was hardly innocent.” We came to a shack named Joey’s that touted the best lobster roll in Connecticut and stood there for a few minutes, as a gaggle of shirtless boys in damp board shorts staggered themselves around a picnic table and shoved fried clams and potato chips into their mouths. Then we turned around and walked back in the same direction we’d come from.
“You couldn’t have stopped him. Neither of us could.” I draped my arm across her back. “He was sick.”
“I know.” She bit her lip to stop it from quivering. “But as you said, you were the child. I was the adult. It was my responsibility. Not yours.”
“It’s in the past. Let’s leave it there, all right?” She didn’t answer.
A minute passed as we carried on in silence. A hush of sadness.
“Are you happy, Jordana?”
“What do you mean?” It was an unexpected question from someone who knows so much about who I was, yet so little about the person I am today.
“I mean, in life. Are you happy? I know you have a career. I know you have a lot of money, and a fancy car. But that can’t be enough. I also know you’re married, but I haven’t seen you talk to your husband once. And he’s certainly not here to support you. I also know you have no children. So I want to know if you’re really happy with all of that.”
“I’m not sure, Mom.” It was the truth. Plain and simple. I’ve known it all along. It just never mattered before. Or I never let it matter. I was so focused on proving my worth. On achieving financial sanctuary. On being someone who people didn’t pity. Maybe I forgot what it means to be happy. If ever I knew what it meant in the first place.
“Then do something about it.”
“It’s not that simple. I can’t just snap my fingers.”
“Don’t make the same mistakes I did. Don’t let anyone else ruin you. And don’t ruin yourself. You’re better than that.”
“I tried to help you. I left you the ring and some money. Why didn’t you run too?”
“Where would I have gone? What would I have done to survive? I didn’t know anything other than what I had. And I couldn’t just abandon your father when he got hurt.” She reached into her purse and handed me a small velvet pouch. “This is yours.”
I released the drawstrings and pulled out the ring. Kerrie’s mother’s ring, still strung on the gold chain she wore around her neck. “I can’t believe you kept it all this time.” It was just as I recalled: a simple round stone with two smaller diamonds on either side. Nothing like the rings my brides wear or my own six-carat cushion cut. But still perfect. I turned toward the ocean and held it in my open palm.
My mother stood next to me and said, “He loved you, Jordana. In his own way. And I love you too.”
With that, she moved gradually toward the shoreline, her shoulders heaving. I listened to her quiet tears, but I didn’t follow her. Then I closed my eyes and whispered, “Good-bye, old man.”
34JORDANA
By the next morning, I was back at work with my past safely in the rearview mirror.
My focus is fiery and fierce again. And all of it is on Tatiana and William’s wedding, which is approaching fast. God bless Olivia for keeping everything in order while I was gone.
I still can’t shake the feeling that there’s something so familiar about her. Every now and then I’ll spot a mannerism I’m faintly acquainted with, or she’ll say something that almost harkens a memory. Almost. And then it’s gone. Maybe I knew her in another life. Either way, I’m sure I can trust her, which is more than I can say for most people.
“Okay, so let’s go over a few things.” I sat down at my desk and gestured for her to sit across from me. “First, I want to say thank you so much for taking care of everything while I was gone. I truly appreciate it. You’ll definitely be receiving the promotion I promised you and a bonus. Second, I’ve noticed how devoted you’ve been to bettering yourself, not only on the job. And your confidence is on point. I know these things may seem superficial, but in this line of work, they can be everything. Really impressive, Olivia.”
“Thank you.” She smiled and rolled her shoulders back to illustrate my point.
“Getting down to business. What are the outstanding details for the Doonan-Blum wedding?”
“For one, William still doesn’t have a ring.”
“You’re kidding me. I thought you went with him yesterday.”
“I did meet William, but it wasn’t a successful trip.”
“I don’t understand. Doesn’t he know he’s getting married imminently?” Something isn’t right about this. Usually the groom’s band is the easiest thing to cross off the list. “What’s he going to do when she has to place the ring on his finger? Use one from a vending m
achine?”
“I’ll call him today and light a fire,” she assured.
“Perfect. Moving on. Where are we with Ethel and Tatiana’s dresses?”
“Tatiana’s second and third dresses are done. And her first dress should be done ASAP. Same with Ethel’s. Her shrug did arrive, but she hasn’t tried it on yet. She said she’ll come in with Tatiana for her final fitting to firm everything up. And not to touch it. So I just left it in the garment bag the way it was delivered.”
“Smart,” Jordana praised. “Caviar bar?”
“All good.”
“Whiskey tasting for the rehearsal dinner?” she continued.
“Done,” I acknowledged.
“Dominique Ansel is confirmed for desserts?”
“Yup.”
“In person?”
“Absolutely.”
“And every couple is taking home a miniature version of the wedding cake as a favor, right?”
“One hundred percent,” I reassured.
“Fireworks at the after-party?”
“Check.”
“Excellent. Still, we’ll need to follow up with all of these people again the week of. There is never too much follow-up. Dot every i, cross every t. And, always remember, mistakes will be made because vendors are not as invested in the success of the wedding as we are. No one else is. Except maybe Ethel.”
“Got it.”
“I think we’ve covered enough for now. I’ll need a few updates on the other weddings once I’ve caught up on some paperwork.” I exhaled for what felt like the first time since my return. It’s amazing how being gone for two days can feel like a lifetime. “It’s good to be back in the swing of things.”
“Did you have a nice time with your friend?”
“Well, I wasn’t actually with a friend.” If not for the call from my mother, I may have gotten away with lying to Olivia too, although a part of me wants to confide in her. “I didn’t have time to explain everything while I was gone.”
“I kind of figured.” But she didn’t say anything. One of the many things I admire about her.
“It’s okay. It’s always better to err on the side of discretion,” I confirmed. “I was actually home. I grew up in Connecticut. At the address you sent the clothing to.”
Pretty Revenge (ARC) Page 20
