“Oh. Shit.” Maria gasps. “Well, alright, let’s get you out of here. We can come back another day.”
I drag another breath through my lungs.
“And everyone knew?”
“No, not everyone.” Eli shakes his head. “They still haven’t told your mom because they’re worried how her response will affect you.”
“Why didn’t Caleb tell me?”
“I don’t know—he was supposed to while we were here so we—I—could support you.”
Maria loosens my zipper, allowing oxygen to return with the expanded space. A heavy weariness bears down on my legs, and I sit on the platform’s ledge, resting my head in my hands.
“It’s okay, dear. Deep breaths.”
“Caroline’s going to be insufferable.”
“I know, but you’re not going there for her. You’re going there for your brother. And Holly. You love Holly.”
I do. And this is ridiculously exciting news. My brother and his future wife, and somebody else I care deeply for are all starting huge, wonderful chapters in their lives. And I am so very happy for them.
Or I will be. Once the shock of the news wears off.
First, I get to be the loser having a panic attack because this is my life. That’s part of the curse. Even the happiest news gets tainted.
Of course, after the panic attack, I will spiral further down the self-pity rabbit hole and feel terrible that I’m a selfish ass who wallows when someone else has the best news ever, and everyone has to handle me with kid gloves because I’m not well-adjusted like adults should be. And then I will have to allow for some time to grapple with the overwhelming thought that this is it for me, none of this ends. None of this gets easier. I just have to get tougher.
Hell, I am so tired of having to be tougher.
But then I’ll be happy for all parties involved. Really.
“Hey.” A little kick to my foot from Eli pauses the spiral. “Let’s get out of here and grab some ice cream or something. Didn’t you tell me the Ben and Jerry’s was somehow better over here?”
“Oh. Yup. The wine’s cheap too.” I gather myself, standing.
“You want me to take this dress to the counter and check out?” Maria asks, dragging the zipper the rest of the way open.
I worry my lip, wiping at the tears collecting under my eyes. I need heavier armor if I’m going to survive my mother now.
“Let’s try a few more. Maybe we can find something chicer.” I hold my chin up. I’m sure that confident pre-shattered debutante is in there somewhere—and hell, I’ll need all the fake confidence I can get.
The brass tones of the“Imperial March”flood my apartment, a sense of dread settling in me. I take another swig of my five-euro bottle of wine and rip off a hunk of a freshly baked baguette—the only pain I care to experience. An empty carcass of a Ben and Jerry’s pint keeps me company since I pushed Maria and Eli out of the apartment to visit Declan and Fionn with a convincing “Will you please go? I’m fine.”
Two text messages from Caroline populate on my phone. Not the salt in the wound I need right now.
I take another swig. Fine was a bit of an exaggeration, but it is my mess to deal with. I’m not going to let my pity party affect those around me.
Another text notification from her appears.
Screw it. Rip the Band-Aid off and read them.
CAROLINE: Tyler Higgins regretfully must do a load of laundry on the day of the wedding.
CAROLINE: And Charlie Bennet is married. Though I don’t remember seeing an announcement in the newspaper, so I don’t know how valid that excuse is.
CAROLINE: Going to ask at book club if anyone knows any proper suitors for you.
Excellent, I can hear the sales pitch now. “Do any of you have a son desperate enough to overlook the glaring issues with my daughter? I need someone to take her to a wedding so she doesn’t disgrace the family name with her perceived spinsterhood.”
