Chapter One
My sister Amyand I had more than twenty ex-boyfriends between us, a zillion stories about awkward first dates, and miraculously enough, only one declined proposal. Nobody was under the impression the Fuller sisters were saving themselves for marriage. Not even close. But I'd sort of thought we might be saving ourselvesfromit.
“Engaged? To be married?” I practically had to shout over the noontime rush at Big Time Diner in midtown—waitresses barking at bus boys, dishes clattering, customers yammering.
Amy worked her way out of her charcoal gray suit jacket, draping it neatly over her purse on the seat next to her. “What other kind of engaged is there?” She loved to answer a question with a question. If it was possible to be a born litigation attorney, that was my sister.
“I know. I know. I'm just…” I couldn't say more without my stomach lurching, which made me second-guess my lunch order. Matzoh ball soup might kill me. Or, in the absence of wine, maybe chicken broth could help wash down the news. The secret club I'd thought my sister and I had chartered was a sham. How long had she been planning her escape?
“I’m glad it's not just me. I'm speechless too.” Amy fluttered her fingers, beaming at her diamond and platinum prize like she'd given birth to it. She tucked her neat, blonde bob behind one ear. I'd always envied her high cheekbones, but today they were straight out of a Technicolor film, blushed with every gorgeous shade of a ripe Georgia peach. She got the cheekbones, and the blush, from Mom.
“Speechless. Yes. That's the perfect word.”
Patty, the waitress with the spiky persimmon-orange hair, slid white diner plates ringed in cobalt blue onto our table, putting my forthcoming paper-thin spiel about love and good news on pause, thank God.
“I still can't believe it. It's exciting, right?” Amy's voice reached a pitch like air squeaking out of a pinhole in a balloon. She picked up half of her turkey on rye with one hand, leaving the other hand—the bejeweled one—on display in the center of the table. It was no small feat. Big Time served some of the fattest sandwiches in Manhattan.
“It is.” I nodded, as if that might make my lackluster performance more convincing. I sucked flat diet soda through a straw, stalling again. If only I'd had time to prepare some remarks. If only she'd given me some sign that she and Luke were this serious. I'd assumed she was sleeping at his place most nights because the sex was halfway decent. “I’m just…”
“You're just what, Katherine?” She was losing her patience for my lack of gushing, even while her ocean-blue eyes flickered with optimism as she gazed at the behemoth rock on her ring finger. Diamonds were beyond crazy if you thought about it—a nugget of dirty black carbon subjected to unbearable pressure and unthinkable temperatures until it had no choice but to turn into something sparkly and precious. A sunny person might call it a beautiful metaphor—even the ugliest thing could get better.
It just might take a few billion years.
“I’m wondering…” I innocently slurped my soup.Don't say it.“Did you know you were going to go back on our pact? Like all along?”You are such a miserable excuse for a sister.
She jerked her hand back. “The pact? Are you serious right now? You're supposed to be happy for me.”
“Iamhappy for you.” It came out as a plea to the universe.Please let me be happy. Is that too much to ask?“I’m ecstatic.” I was going to have to lie until I could get on board with happy. I couldn't tell her how terrified I was. It pained me to think about her getting hurt and if anyone was going to hurt her, it was some dude she'd known for less than a year. Plus, Luke was a little too perfect—clearly spent a lot of time at the gym, had at least a dozen pet names for her, and was always celebrating tiny milestones.Oh, honey. Guess what? This will be the tenth time we've gone out for Chinese food.He had to be hiding something.
Then there was the not-small fact that our family tree had divorces hanging from every branch. The Fullers did not do well with the sanctity of marriage, and that led to divorce, which then led to heartbreak—for everybody, even the bystanders. If Amy's heart got broken, who would pick up the pieces? Me. And I was terrible at picking up pieces. I could never figure out how to glue them back together.
“That was almost nine years ago.” Amy lowered her chin, forcing me to look at her. “It was your idea, and you were drunk when you said it. Remember? Cinco de Mayo?”
“Hey. We had fun that night.”
“And you had five Margaritas.”
“You weren't far behind me.”
“Exactly why this is a stupid conversation. I only said yes to the idea that we should never get married and stay roommates forever so you'd shut up and get in your own bed.”
It all came back to me. My head hurt just thinking about the hangover that came on May 6th that year. I didn't end up feeling right until June. “God. I got in your bed that night didn't I? I'm sorry. I should never drink tequila. Ever.”
“Exactly.” She punctuated her statement by pointing at me with a french fry.
“You know, I kept the pact when Jason proposed.”
“And you have very big balls to turn down a guy in front of his whole family.”
Jason was the one declined proposal. He'd invited me to dinner at his parents' house in Brooklyn, a lovely old brownstone so picturesque it was like something out of a romantic comedy. His family was Italian and vocal, nothing like mine: Scandinavian and choking on every slightly impolite thing. I hadn't even taken off my coat before his mom put him on the spot.Look at her. She's beautiful, with the blonde hair and the blue eyes. She looks like a milkmaid. You'll make such pretty babies.
It didn't stop during dinner.Your brother is already married and he's younger. He's going to have children before you. It's not right. You should marry Katherine. She's a keeper. I can tell.After the tiramisu was proudly presented for dessert, her mother's mother's recipe, she'd dragged Jason into the other room. I'd sat at the table with his dad and younger sister while we heard every word and could only exchange tortured smiles. I'd twisted the cloth napkin in my lap so tightly that I was embarrassed to give it back.
Ma, we're not ready to get married.
Just give her your grandmother's ring. You'll lose her if you don't.
My brain sputtered.A ring? Oh, shit.
