“I’m so glad we’re going to be friends,” Pansy says, finally heading for the door. “I really didn’t want to have to make José quit the brewery.”
I make it to the door first and squeeze the handle so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t shatter. “This place is important to him, Pansy.”
“So am I,” she says with that pink tooth.
So am I, my heart wants to echo.
I may not be in love with José Cruz, but he’ll never just be some guy to me. And I make a pledge to myself: no matter what happens, I can’t let him marry this horrible woman. I absolutely cannot.
The door flies open, nearly knocking me in the face.
“Oh,” Hannah says, “sorry.” Then she sees Pansy and shoots me a quizzical look. Probably because she knows I hate Pansy with the fire of a thousand suns and would never invite her for a private sit-down in my office unless I intended violence.
“Why are you wearing a tux?” Pansy asks coldly, planting a hand on her hip as she eyes my friend’s pin-striped tux and pinned-up red curls.
“I’m a groomswoman.” Hannah checks out Pansy’s pinkdress. “Are you a flower girl? They didn’t tell me they were bringing one in.”
Pansy rolls her eyes before gluing them to mine. “That was a nice talk, Nora. We’ll have another one soon.”
She flounces off with a swish of her skirts, and Hannah, who stepped inside, slams the door behind her. It nearly tears off some of the taffeta, making Pansy squeak.
I smile at my friend. “Thanks for that.”
“What did she want, anyway? More nebulous threats? Drunken rants? Bon Jovi sing-alongs?”
“She wanted to talk about Marco.”
“Oh, did THIRD CHOICE show up? I didn’t see him out there, although to be perfectly honest, I have a vicious hangover. I?—”
“No, he’s not coming. Look, I’ll tell you everything, but I have to go see my mom.”
Her grimace says it all.
“What happened?” I ask, my heart thumping fast. My mother is a woman who takes care of everyone else and puts herself last. Today is her wedding day, dammit, and itwillgo off without a single hitch. “Did Cormac do something?”
Suddenly, my mind fills with images of Cormac carting his dad off in a literal shopping cart.
“No,” she says. “He’s out there with Travis and the guys, but heisacting a little weird. Did you have a talk with him too?”
“Yeah,” I say, rubbing the throbbing part of my head. “And I’m sorry to say I’ll need to do it again, after the ceremony.”
Hannah wrinkles her nose. “Is now a good time to tell you that the hairdresser I recommended gave your mother and the other bridesmaids beehives?”
CHAPTER THREE
CORMAC
Sweat beads on my hairline as I watch my father pledge to love and cherish Moira Applebaum forever.
I wonder if her hair is supposed to look like that, all piled up on top of her head like a boule of bread. I’ve never been one to notice trends. For all I know, it’s a fashionable new hairstyle, and this is simply the first time I’ve registered it.
I remind myself that Moira is a perfectly nice woman, and she bakes uncommonly good apple pie. Perhaps she felt she had to, with a last name like that. Regardless, I don’t think my father should be marrying her.
My mother and father never told me they were unhappy when I was growing up, but Ifelttheir misery. It was a silent weight we all carried. At first, I figured it was my fault for being different.
My mom had gotten pregnant accidentally, and since both of my parents were in their thirties at the time, they decided to get married and make a go of it. But my mom had two older brothers and a very specific view of what little boys should be like—mainly that they should enjoy contact sports and constant socialization. She hadn’t known what to do with me and myenthusiasm for nonfiction and breaking down and rebuilding electronics.
God knows, she tried to make me more normal. She brought me to endless social events so I would be “socialized”—the way you bring a dog to dog parks—and used to pinch my hand when I was supposed to make eye contact.
