Blushing Pink (26 page)

Not unless he was the biggest asshole on the planet, that is.

Reese's gut was churning, and her hands nearly trembling. What a fool she'd been to dream up a relationship with Brian—and not just a relationship, but a
perfect
relationship. One with friendship and companionship and white-hot passion.

Now it just seemed like a pathetically sad joke. Brian already had a relationship—with a slim, sleek blonde. Reese was just the chubby shrimp he'd made out with twice. Just fucking
wonderful.
"What does she do?" Ally asked Ben.

"She's a dancer, I think."

This just kept getting worse. Reese's eyes stung, and she knew she had to get out of that kitchen before she burst into tears. Holding her stomach as she rose from the table, she said as nonchalantly as possible, "Um, I'm gonna go take a shower."

Joanna said, "Do you feel all right, honey? You look a little pale."

"And your eyes are glassy," Ally added. "Maybe you're getting winter allergies."

"No, I'm fine—I mean, yeah, I'm getting allergies, I think." She turned to bolt.

"Oh, wait!" Joanna said, "don't forget to call Kenneth!"

"Uh-huh. See you all later."

She hopped the steps two at a time, flying right to her bedroom and locking the door behind her, which was sort of absurd because her family was not her enemy. But who
was
? Brian Doren, or herself? After all, she should have guessed that Brian was too good to be true—that she was merely a diversion from his
real
life—just like it had been with Pete, and just like it was with Kenneth.

Only with Pete and Kenneth, it had been much more obvious. With Brian she'd been completely snowed. Not once in all their talks about their jobs, their interests, their backgrounds, their lives, had he mentioned being engaged or even involved.

Sinking onto the floor, Reese sighed and buried her face in her knees and thought, I knew those soft brown eyes were trouble the minute I saw them, and I should've just run away.

* * *

Two minutes went by before the knocking began. Could Ally have sensed through their sister connection all of Reese's pain and torment? Did she simply know intuitively how hard Reese had been falling for Brian, and now had she come to offer her a shoulder to cry on? An ear, a support system—

"Sweetheart, we need you to come downstairs and try on your dress."

Not even
close!
It was just her mother, imposing on her for yet another tedious, pre-wedding spectacle. Well, that was it—Reese would not do it; she'd had it with this. Rising up, she opened her door only a crack. "Mom, no. I don't want to try on my dress right now."

"Come on, honey, we don't have time for you to be difficult. Everyone's waiting downstairs for you."

"What—why are they
waiting?"

"Have you been crying? Your eyes look all red."

"No, I have not been crying," Reese lied, feeling the tears start again. "And I
don't
want to try on my dress now."

"It won't take long; I just want to make sure the dress fits so we know if we need to make another appointment with the seamstress before the wedding, since you and Angela completely neglected your last appointment. Now come on; don't give me a hard time."

"Mom, please..."

"Oh, fine, I give up!" Joanna shouted, looking to the ceiling for some commiseration. "I try so
hard,
and nobody
ever
helps me out!"

"Reese, please," Ally called from the foot of the stairs. "Just so Mom will let it die."

"See? Your sister is excited to see the dress on you, too!" Joanna chirped, suddenly happy again.

"Come on," Ally encouraged. "Let's see you work it."

Reese ground out the word "Fine," and Joanna skipped down the stairs, humming merrily—as in,
My work is done here,
and,
Hmm-hmm, I'm a great mother.

Balling her hands into fists, Reese dragged herself over to her walk-in closet, where her bridesmaid dress hung beneath untouched cellophane. She had had her measurements taken when Ally had first picked it out, but she still hadn't tried it on. She figured it would be okay, since bridal dresses tended to run big. But all her beliefs were called into serious question when she put it on. Or crammed it on. Or stuffed the dress like a turkey. In fact, by the time she got the side zipper up, she was holding her breath, absolutely terrified of letting it out.

Lord, it was
tight.
How could this have happened? She couldn't have gained
that
much weight since they'd placed the order seven months ago... could she?

"Reese!" Joanna called from downstairs. "Do you need help?"

"No!" She stood dumbly for a few seconds, and then waddled frantically to her door. Cracking it less than an inch, she yelled down, "I'm not coming down in this!"

"What?" Joanna yelled back. Then Reese heard her moan, "Why is she doing this to me? Why won't anyone ever
help
me?"

"Fine, fine," Reese snapped, "I'll be right down." She shut the door and began panicking. God, Ally's wedding was two weeks away and her dress was turning her lips blue—this was
not
going to work. If she couldn't bear to show her mother and sister, how on earth could she parade the damn dress for half of Goldwood, not to mention Brian Doren?

"Reese, we're
waiting!"
Joanna called. Her mother sounded as though she'd reached the end of her rope—again.

"Don't worry," Ally said reassuringly. "I sent Ben and Dad to get Gummi Savers."

Her sister thought Ben and Michael were the problem?
Please.
They were the
least
of Reese's problems. Try a zipper branding her flesh, and breasts oozing out of the sides of the dress—she hadn't realized that "high neck" also meant narrow neck.

"Come on; I'm sure you look great," Ally said.

Finally Reese quit stalling, because she had no other choice. Steeling herself for their reactions, she quickly rationalized that technically the dress was
supposed
to be formfitting. Also, she always tended to be too self-conscious, and who wasn't her own worst critic, anyway?

She descended the stairs warily. "Looks good to me," Ally said, smiling at her—relieving her. Next she looked to Joanna, who chewed on her lip and squinted.

Then she put on her glasses. They were reading glasses, so this was not a good sign.

"Well, honestly..." Joanna said, "it seems rather snug, sweetheart. You might want to lose a few pounds before the wedding." Raising her hands up, she added, "Just a suggestion."

Reese knew the dress was snug—beyond snug—and she knew her misery was about more than simply the dress, but still—just like that—she exploded. "No
kidding
it wouldn't hurt, Mom!" she snapped. "You don't think I know that? You think you need to fucking
tell
me that?" Joanna blinked, appalled. "Maybe if you wouldn't make it so freaking impossible around here! Maybe if you wouldn't serve breakfast sandwiches on croissants with truffles and eggs in hollandaise sauce every single day!"

"Well, I just want to start your day with a well-balanced meal—"

"And what about all the cafe au laits with heavy cream?"

"Only because I know you don't like decaf—"

Reese rolled her eyes and shuffled down the hall—feeling vaguely like a hunter-green penguin along the way—and stormed into the kitchen. Joanna and Ally followed, watching Reese whip open the refrigerator door. "Just look at this, Mom!"

"What?" Joanna said, confused.

"Mom, please, look at the food you keep here. Pastries, quiche, goose-liver pate, and about fifty cartons of heavy cream. And—what's this?" she asked, holding up a large Tupperware bowl.

"Crème a l'Anglaise."

"Mother..."

"Oh, sorry, sorry," Joanna said, holding up her hands, and amended, "It's custard cream."

"Exactly my point. Ever hear of
yogurt
?" She shoved the bowl back in the refrigerator and buried her face in her hands as the tears began to fall.

"Oh, sweetheart," Joanna crooned, coming up to put her arms around her. "What's wrong?" she asked gently, while Reese hugged her back and cried a little on her shoulder. "What's wrong, honey?"

"Yeah, what is it, Reese?" Ally asked, and ran her hand down her sister's hair.

"It's just...
everything."

"All right, all right, shh, just relax," Joanna said soothingly. "It's okay."

Reese sniffled with abandon, and soon felt better. Joanna pulled back and brushed some of Reese's hair aside. "You know, I wouldn't mind losing a few pounds, myself."

Reese sniffled. "Really?" she mumbled, swiping her cheeks with the back of her hand, while Ally handed her a paper towel for her nose.

"Really," Joanna said, smiling warmly. "Maybe it wouldn't hurt to make some lower-calorie meals around here. I mean, for myself, too. And Angela mentioned that she wanted to cut down a little herself lately."

"I'll do it, too," Ally offered.

"And, you know, there are some wonderful Parisian fish dishes that I am
dying
to try out," Joanna said.

After a pause, Reese cracked a tiny smile. "Okay," she said, and kissed her mom's cheek. "Thanks."

So it was decided. For the next two weeks, the Brock women would have fish for dinner, and skim cafe au laits at breakfast, and with any luck they'd be in good shape for Ally's wedding.

To celebrate their resolve, Joanna took Ally and Reese out to dinner at The Wharf. Ben and Michael were a very crabby when they got home with the Gummi Savers because the Brock women had temporarily forgotten all about them.

Chapter 20

"So, is Scott treating you all right?" Brian asked.

"Uh-huh," Danny said, sounding more cheerful than she had in a while. "Scott's a
sweetheart."
He could tell by the effusive way she'd said it that his friend was standing right next to her. "He's even treating me to dinner. Oh, hold on. A number four, Biggie sized."

"You're at Wendy's?"

"Yeah, why?"

Brian looked at his watch and saw that it was nearly nine-thirty. "First of all, you should've eaten dinner already. Second, why are you eating that crap? Danny, you're supposed to be taking care of yourself."

"I didn't want to eat before my appointment," she argued.

"Well, what kind of doctor sees patients at eight o'clock on a Sunday night, for chrissake? Maybe we should find you another doctor."

"Brian, I
like
my doctor. He's one of those old-fashioned, grandfatherly types. It's nice. Anyway, you eat Wendy's all the time."

"Don't start; you know it's not the same thing."

"Okay, but still, Dr. Fisher said I could have fast food. Really, he said it's fine once in a while."

Brian heard a brief rustling in the background, and then a man's voice. "It's true," Scott said. "And fries too, if she wants," he added, using that not-for-Brian's-benefit tone of voice.

"Listen, thanks for helping me out," Brian said.

"No problem," Scott replied amiably.

"Is everything really okay?"

"Yeah, don't worry."

"Okay, thanks. Listen, put Danny back on, will ya?"

"Hello?"

"Do you want me to come home? I can drive to Boston at the end of the week."

"No!" she yelped. "Don't you dare. I don't want you revolving your entire life around me. Besides, I told you, Dr. Fisher says I'm fine, and he's gonna rush the lab results just to be a hundred percent positive. Don't worry, okay?"

"All right, but—"

"If anything comes up, Scott will help me."

Brian paused and considered it. Then he said, "Fine, okay. But I want to know the results of the ultrasound when you get them."

Danny agreed, and immediately after Brian hung up with her he heard a chime, which indicated that he had messages on his voice mail. God, he hoped it wasn't work-related. He'd already planned to spend tonight kicking back with pizza and HBO.

He dialed the number to retrieve his messages—good, only one; that was encouraging. He pressed "one" and listened.

"Hi, Bri," Veronica said, sounding sniffly and miserable. "It's me. I really need to talk to you. I just found out that Uncle Martin is having a relapse with the cancer, and I-I really need you right now." She stopped because she was crying, and then said, "Bri, I love you. I want us to be together again. Please don't keep shutting me out. I don't know what's going on with us... I don't even know if you're still taking me to Ben's wedding or—Please call me back. I love you."

Brian felt like he'd been kicked in the gut. Repeatedly.

Absently shutting his phone, he tossed it somewhere, and mentally replayed what Veronica had said. Christ, she'd sounded awful. His heart squeezed inside his chest, because he knew he should do something; he knew she needed him. How could he just turn his back on her at a time like this? They'd known each other for ten years—together for eight of them—and it completely undid him to hear her sounding so desolate and so alone.