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Lucy came to sit next to me. I was enfolded in a lavender cloud when she hugged me. “I know,” she said, squeezing my shoulders. “Nobody thinks you’re the bad guy. Everyone is happy.”
“Good,” I said. “You smell nice.”
She threw her head back and laughed. “Thank you.”
“Do you want me to call her a cab?” Gretchen asked.
I frowned. “I’m sitting right here.”
“Actually, I think it might be time to call it a night,” Lucy said. “I don’t want to be puffy on Sunday.”
Everyone agreed emphatically that they did not want to be puffy either, so Ava and Bethany went to hail cabs while Lucy left for the restroom.
“You know, you really should keep your marital problems to yourself,” Dani said to me as we settled the bill. “Lucy doesn’t need to hear that a couple days before she walks down the aisle.”
“I don’t have marital problems.”
“All the same, don’t spoil this for her. She already worries about you too much when she should be focusing on herself right now.”
I looked over at Gretchen for backup, but she only shrugged. “She’s probably right, Liv. Remember what we talked about? This weekend is about Lucy.”
My eyes drifted back to Dani and narrowed. I imagined David sitting next to her, touching her hair and rubbing her back. He would smile mildly at me and that’d be the worst part. His eyes would regard me impassively, like an old friend. Maybe he still had that passion, but it would be for her or someone else. Not for me. He wouldn’t look at me the same anymore.
~
I stumbled into the apartment and shut the heavy door quietly behind me. I tossed my keys at the table but missed, so they landed on the floor with a clang. Stifling a laugh, I kicked off my heels. Tiptoe, tiptoe, shh . . . .
“Shit, fuck!” I hissed.
“Liv?”
“Sorry babe, I hin my shit. Er, I hit my shin on the bed,” I said, giggling.
The bed rustled with movement. “How was it?”
“Good,” I responded, and I could see his teeth flash in the dark. “We drank pink Cosmos at dinner and then tequila and . . . other stuff, I don’t remember.”
“So you had fun?”
“Yup. You?”
“Yeah, we had a good time too. Andrew’s brothers are a little immature, but whatever.”
“Gretchen fell off a curb.” I snickered and then broke into a fit of laughter, clutching my side.
“You seem better,” he said cautiously when I’d recovered.
Am I? I didn’t know how to respond, because I wasn’t sure. Since my talk with Gretchen, I had tried to be more affable. I didn’t feel back to normal, but I wasn’t sure I ever would. How could I, knowing what I did? How could things ever go back to the way they were?
“Bill,” I said softly. “Do you believe in soul mates?”
I heard the sheets rustle again and jumped when he touched me. He rotated me and unzipped my party dress so it fell to the ground. His figure rose from the bed, and he found my lips with a gentle kiss.
“Wait,” I said when he pulled away. I wrapped my arms around his neck. It felt nice to be kissed and touched after months of loneliness. Maybe being with Bill again would remind me of our love. He could end my ongoing inner battles.
He removed his boxers quickly as we kissed and then urged me backward onto the bed. He climbed atop me, and I held his face to mine. When he nudged between my legs, I whispered, “Slow down. Kiss me first.”
I ran my hands over his long back and shut my eyes while he kissed me excitedly. I sought a connection with my hands and my tongue, but my head began to spin. I opened my eyes, but the room was spinning too. He pecked me on the lips before pulling away.
I blinked up, focusing on the ceiling. What have I done? Something is lost, I’ve driven a wedge between us – does he feel it too? He was back suddenly, his hands sliding down and spreading me open. “Wait,” I groaned as dread and tequila flooded me. He started to push into me. “Wait, just – just slow down! Jesus.”
He jerked back and hovered over me. “What?” he asked, bewildered.
“You’re . . . moving too fast, can’t you feel that I’m not ready?”
“All right,” he said sitting back on his calves. “What do you want me to do? You don’t like foreplay.”
I heaved a sigh. I had told him that once, because it was usually a tedious race to see if I could finish when I knew I wouldn’t. After all these years with Bill, I’d gradually given up the chase for my orgasm.
“Never mind,” I said, getting up and righting my underwear.
“Seriously? What do you want?”
“I want you to know what I want.” My stomach knotted, and I swallowed.
“I thought I did.”
“I’m sorry, I’m drunk.” I backed away and stumbled over my dress. “It’s my thing, it’s not you. I’m really sorry.”
“Babe, the sex . . . I know it’s been a while . . . but you don’t mean that, do you?”
I closed my eyes and rubbed them. “No. No, of course not.” The world moved behind my lids, and my jaw tickled. “I’m sorry,” I repeated and took off for the bathroom.
He called after me. I scrambled to my knees and leaned over the toilet seconds before throwing up.
“Oh, shit,” I heard behind me as Bill gathered my hair in his hand. “Did you eat anything at dinner?”
I shook my head into the toilet and released a stream of pink liquid. I sat back against the wall and whispered, “I’m sorry.”
He crouched down beside me. “It’s all right. You had too much to drink, huh?”
I nodded.
“I’ll get you some water.”
I let my head fall into my hands. I was awash with shame for spurning him and for letting the alcohol incite memories of David all night. I just want it to end. I want to rid myself of David and of everything I’ve been holding inside. The guilt, the shame, the lust, the longing. When I was hit with another wave of nausea, I gripped the toilet and vomited every last thing inside me.
~
I’m running, but I’m not moving. I’m being chased, but my legs are heavy. Impossible to lift. The leadenness rises up my arms and settles in my chest, strangling me from the inside out. And someone’s hands are around my neck. My chest is collapsing, and I am gasping, rasping for air . . . .
I sucked air in suddenly, and my eyes flew open. When I couldn’t move, panic filtered through me until I realized why. Bill was holding me. It had been a while since he had, so I fought the urge to break free and move to my side of the bed.
“Liv?” he murmured sleepily.
“It’s all right, just another nightmare,” I said.
“Hmm? Nightmare? Must be the alcohol.” He pulled me closer, and I sighed, yielding to him.
CHAPTER 4
I PULLED THE ZIPPER UP over my ribs and wondered if I could get away with wearing a shawl. I was already cold in the revealing dress and up until now, I had been consciously disguising my weight loss. I remembered Lucy’s serious expression as she had warned us about altering our bridesmaid dresses in any way, because she wanted the three of us looking identical as we stood next to her.
“Where’s Liv?” I heard from the
next room.
“In here.”
We were at Andrew’s behemoth of a house in Winnetka, taking up a few rooms in the ‘east wing,’ as Andrew’s mother had called it. I leaned into the mirror and gave my makeup a once-over. Because my face had become thinner, my eyes looked even larger than normal. The deep Bordeaux gown perfectly complemented their shade of green and the dark honey color of my hair.
Lucy had hired professionals to transform the four of us for her big day. She was the glowing princess while Gretchen, Dani and I were sultry triplets. We donned identical messy chignons and dramatic makeup, with wine-colored pouts to match our dresses.
I swiped a lipstick smudge from the corner of my mouth. In the day’s chaos, it had been easy to avoid my thoughts. But now I braced myself against the vanity table. Tonight I would see David again, and I had no plan. I could see beads of sweat forming on my upper lip just thinking about it. Good, then. Perhaps I won’t need a shawl after all.
Gretchen breezed in, still dressed in one of the red satin bridesmaid robes we’d all received. She halted when she saw me. “Liv,” she said, passing her eyes over me. “You’re really skinny.”
“Stop,” I said, crossing my arms into myself. “Don’t look at me like that.”
She walked over and pulled on the armhole of the dress. “This is big. I knew you’d lost weight, but this is too much. I can like, see your ribs.” She ran a finger over my chest that left chills in its wake.
“You cannot,” I countered, puffing up. “I just know I’m going to be cold, though. Do you think Lucy will let me wear something over my shoulders?”
“After this weekend, will you please go talk to someone? You’re depressed.”
I reeled back at the accusation. “I am not depressed. Yes, I’ve lost weight, but I have been working a lot.” And how can I eat when I feel so sick to my stomach all the time?
“Don’t make me call your father. I will, I swear.”
I scowled and turned sideways in the mirror, which only made it worse.
