The Truth About Ever After (17 page)

On
the other end of the line, Kara sighed. “Sometimes I really wish we could.”

“Oh,
come on,” I said, trying to cheer her up. “You’re in New York! It’s one of the
best cities in the world! Go to the Met, or go see a show. Better yet, go
shopping and send me things!”

Kara
laughed. “You’re right, I’m just whiney today.”

“You
can whine to me anytime,” I said seriously.

“Right
back at you.”

After
we hung up I wandered around the condo for a while. It was quiet here without
Eric, lonely. I wished he would hurry up at work. He had taken so much time off
the week before to take care of
me,
I knew he was
trying to make up for it now. But I still wished he would come home.

I
thought of how sweet he had been to me since the miscarriage, how concerned. He
had taken such good care of me, had been putting me first ever since that day.
Ever since I had found I was pregnant, actually. I should repay the favor and
do something nice for Eric tonight.

Feeling
better than I had in a more than a week, I made my way to the kitchen to make
dinner for my husband.

***

Sarah
looked exactly the way I remembered her. Shiny black hair styled in a smooth,
sleek bob. Pressed and perfectly fitted designer clothes, everything a shade of
pale pastel green and pink. Even her fingernails were perfect—not too
long, not too short, French manicure buffed to
a sheen
.

It
was enough to make me want to puke.

As
she caught sight of me from across the restaurant, her expression lit
up—but not before I saw a slight frown on her face as her eyes quickly
appraised me. As I approached her table I felt, rather than saw, her eyes
flicker down my frame. For one brief moment, I wished I had chosen something
else to wear. In comparison to her cool, understated sophistication, my hot
pink baby doll dress and glittery cardigan seemed completely out of place. And
why had I decided to curl my hair that morning? I should have pulled it up into
a sleek chignon, or something.

Knock it off
, I told myself firmly.
You like your clothes and you look totally
cute. Don’t let her infect you with the crazy, not before she’s even opened her
mouth.

“Kiki!”
she squealed, her voice fake and grating in my ears. She stood and threw her
arms around me, enveloping me in a circle of Chanel Number Five. “It’s so good
to see you!”

“You
too, Sarah,” I said, hugging her back but letting go as quickly as I could.
“You look as lovely as ever.”

“Thank
you, dear,” she said, smiling at me modestly. Her eyes did that flicking thing
again and I noted that she had no compliment for me, not even a fake one. I
gritted my teeth and sat down.

“A
wedding,” I said, trying to get us onto a professional track as soon as possible.
“How exciting!”

“Isn’t
it?” she said, sitting across from me and smoothing out her shirt. “I almost
can’t believe it’s real.” I saw the slightest flicker of disquiet on her face,
and I wondered if she felt self-conscious about something.
“I
mean, he waited long enough!”
Her resulting laugh was twinkly and fake,
and I suddenly got it. She was embarrassed not to be married yet, maybe even
pissed that I had been married before her. The realization didn’t make me
happy; I just felt sorry for her. She cared about the wrong things. She always
had.

“And
how have you been,
Kiks
?” she asked. “Is wedded bliss
all it’s cracked up to be?”

I
smiled at her as genuinely as I could. “Yes, we’re very happy.”

“And
what’s your husband’s name again? Sorry, dear, I always forget.
Emmet
, is it?”

“Eric,”
I said evenly.
Which
you totally know, you stupid cow, as you were at my wedding.
Any
chance she got to remind me that I had married beneath me, that Eric wasn’t one
of us. Oh, I hated her.

“Eric,
yes, of course,” she said. “And how is he? What does he do again? Something in
construction?”

“That’s
his brother,” I said, my voice sugary sweet. “He owns a construction company.
Eric is an architect.”

“Oh,
that’s right,” she said. “Didn’t I hear he recently took a job with your dad’s
company?
Well done
, dear, convincing him. Men. They do
need our help, don’t they?”

I
matched her twinkling laugh with my own while my insides churned. Of course, to
someone like Sarah, Eric would only be worthy if he was working for my dad.
A chance that he might follow in his footsteps and make his own
money someday.
I had heard similar sentiments, and much more explicitly
spelled out, from girls like Sarah for years. And they wondered why I didn’t
hang out with the old crowd these days.

An
awkward silence descended upon us as we perused our menus. I prayed that the
waiter would hurry and take our orders.
Anything to get this
horrible outing over with as quickly as possible.

As
if he had heard me, a friendly-looking server arrived at our table at that precise
moment. “Good afternoon, ladies. Are you ready to order?”

“Hello,”
I replied pleasantly. Sarah said nothing, didn’t even look at the man. “Do you
need more time, Sarah?” I asked, doing my best to sound polite.

“House
salad, dressing on the side,” Sarah said, her eyes still on the menu. “And
lemon for my water.”

No
please, no thank you. What else had I expected? Sarah looked up at me and
smiled conspiratorially. “I need to start watching what I eat, I suppose. I do
have a wedding dress to fit into.” Her eyes moved down my torso briefly. “God,
I can’t wait until I’m married so I don’t have to worry so much.” Her
implication was obvious, and it made my blood pound in my ears.

Anthrax
in the wedding cake?
I thought.
How about I just strangle her
now?

“I’ll
take a cheeseburger,” I told the server, giving him my widest smile. “With
extra bacon, please. And fries. Oh, I’ll take a regular Coke as well. Thank you
so much.”

The
waiter smiled back at me as he took our menus, and I thought I caught a flash
of amusement in his eyes. It made me feel better, somehow.

“So,
tell me about the wedding. You guys are thinking summer?”

“Yes,”
Sarah said, her face lighting up again. “I know it’s really fast. I’d always
wanted a winter wedding but Tom said he just doesn’t want to wait.” She gave a
little shrug, as if to say “who could blame him,” and I fought back the urge to
roll my eyes.

“Summer
is a beautiful time for a wedding. Do you have any ideas on the kind of event you’d
like to have? Big, small, formal, casual?” I was merely being polite. The day
Sarah
Vandermark
had a small, casual wedding was the
day I ate my favorite pair of Jimmy
Choos
.

“It
will probably be quite large,” she said, equally polite. “We’ll have a good
amount of family to invite, and Daddy’s work contacts, of course. Plus all of
our social obligations.” She rolled her eyes a little. “You know how it goes.”

“Of
course. Well, Detroit has some wonderful venues in which to hold a larger
wedding. I’m sure you’ll find something perfect.”

“I
hope
we’ll
find it. Together,” Sarah
said. “I really hope you agree to work on this wedding, Kiki. It would mean so
much to me.”

I
felt taken aback. She almost sounded… sincere. “I would like that too, Sarah.
And August looks pretty good for us, scheduling-wise. I think we should be able
to make it work.”

“Oh,
wonderful!” she cried, clapping her hands together. “This will be so much fun!”
Suddenly, she leaned across the table and grabbed my hand, looking
conspiratorial. “Now, Kiki,” she said, in a much lower voice. “I don’t want you
to feel at all weird about this, okay? You working for me, I mean. Please,
please know that it doesn’t mean I look at you any differently. I’m just so
happy to be able to throw some work your way.”

I
gaped at her. I almost felt like laughing. It was my own fault, letting my
guard down with someone like her for even a second.

“Well,
I appreciate that, Sarah,” I said, unable to keep the smile off my face. I saw
a small shadow cross her face, and I wondered if she could tell that I was
laughing at her. “And I’m sure Jen and I will be able to throw a beautiful
wedding for you and Tom.”

The
waiter arrived then with our food and I dug into my burger immediately. It was
delicious, and tasted all the better for my view of Sarah’s pathetic little salad.
She didn’t seem too enthusiastic about eating it, so I decided it was time to
get her talking. After all, I could eat and listen at the same time.

I
wiped my hands on my napkin and leaned across the table, giving her my most
bride-friendly smile as I prepared to deliver my much-used opening line. “So,
Sarah,” I said warmly. “What do you see for your big day?”

Chapter Seventeen

I
could count on one hand the number of big fights Eric and I had been in since
we met. Sure, we’d had our odd disagreement here and there, but actual fights
had been few and far between.

One
of our very first fights was over our wedding guest list. I had been bugging
him for weeks to sit down with his parents and come up with a list of people
they wanted to invite, but he kept putting it off. Jen had already asked me for
it twice, and I was getting embarrassed.

“How
do you not see how big a deal this is?” I had asked, standing in the middle of
his apartment with my hands on my hips. Eric scratched his neck, a habit he had
when he knew he was in trouble.

“Kiki,
you said it yourself, the invitations don’t need to go out for another three
months.”

“Yeah,
but we need a general head count for vendors.” I sighed, exasperated. I had
told him this already.

“I’m
sorry, okay?” He came over to me and put his arms around me. When my own hands
stayed firmly on my hips, he nuzzled my neck. “Come on,
Kiks
.
I said I was sorry. I’ll call my mom right now and ask her and Dad to make a
list of family. Then I can add my friends and we’ll be good to go by the end of
the night. Okay?”

“Fine,”
I said, giving up and putting my arms around his neck. “I just don’t like it
when Jen has to ask for something more than once. She’s working so hard on our
wedding, it’s not fair of us to make anything harder on her.”

“You’re
right,” he said, immediately letting me go and walking over to his phone. “I’m
calling right now.”

While
his parents put together their list, Eric and I ordered pizza and talked about
who
he would like to invite. By the time we had finished eating
we had a list of about twenty assorted people. “Hmm,” I said, looking down at
it. “This isn’t very big.”

“It’s
not?’ Eric asked, looking over my shoulder. “Do you think I’m missing anyone?”

“No,”
I said, checking the names. “Not in particular. It just seems like a small
number. Are you sure you invited all the work people you want? What about old
friends, high school or college?”

Eric
shrugged. “Everyone I’m particularly close to is on that list.”

I
frowned again. My personal list, not including the family members and work
colleagues my parents had insisted on, was currently pushing sixty people. Had
I invited too many?

“Who’s
on your list?” Eric asked.

“I’ll
show you,” I said, jumping up from the couch to grab my wedding binder. It had
become like my bible over the past months—I took it with me everywhere I
went. It was, without a doubt, the most important book that I owned.

“Here,”
I said, pulling out a piece of paper and handing it to Eric. “That’s my list.”

His
eyes ran down the names as he nodded slightly. Suddenly he stopped. “Sarah
Vandermark
?” he asked, looking up at me with a skeptical
expression. “You’re inviting Sarah
Vandermark
?”

“Yeah,”
I said, feeling immediately uncomfortable. “Why shouldn’t I?”

“Um,
maybe because you hate Sarah
Vandermark
?”

“Hate’s
a pretty strong word,” I said, shifting on the couch. “I wouldn’t say I hated her—”

“Come
on,
Kiks
,” he said, not letting me off the hook. “You
said the girl made your life miserable in junior high. And from what I can tell,
things didn’t exactly warm up in high school or college.”

“Eric,
I’ve known Sarah for a very long time. We have a lot of history together. Her
parents know my parents. She’s
friends
with a lot of
my friends. I have to invite her.”

“Yeah,
speaking of friends,” he went on, looking back on the list. “There are a bunch
of girls on here that I wouldn’t exactly call your friends.”

“Eric,”
I said, a warning note in my voice. “Can we drop this? It’s my list; I’m not
going to argue with you over yours.”