At least he stopped the conversation before I got anywhere close to blurting out how I really feel. At least I saved myself that dignity.
At least—I tell myself as I storm back into the house and straight up to my dark little hideaway of a room—at least I know now what I’m going to do.
Nate just made my decision very, very easy.
“NIKKI?”SLOANE SOUNDS ALMOSTsurprised when she answers my call. “I wasn’t expecting to hear back from you so quickly, but it’s great to—”
“I’m in,” I tell her. “I accept the offer. I would be honored to return to theLovedByfranchise, if you’ll still have me?”
“Hell yes, girl! Now let’s talk timing of the announcement…”
My hands are shaky as I hang up the phone, feeling like I’ve just sealed my fate. And that’s when I look up and see a flash of yellow through the cracked door.
“Cara?” I call out.
She peeks her head in. “Sorry to, um, interrupt. Coop just sent me up to tell you…” She bites her lip, like she’s steeling herself for whatever comes next. Her eyes dart toward the hallway as if the threat might already be creeping closer. “… the Leg Tears are here.”
25
BY LATE AFTERNOON,Ifeel like my insides are eating away at me, and Nate’s continued to be distant. Sure, my parents do have him working hard on the gazebo, but that’s no excuse for how he’s treated me. After last night, the fact that he doesn’t even have the decency to talk about it, to make sure we’re both on the same page (clearly, we’re not), speaks volumes about the kind of person he really is.
And it’s all I can do to hide my anger and humiliation from the rest of the family.
By the time he takes a break, the house has gotten way too busy for me to talk to him alone. In addition to the Leg Tears, who’ve come over from the hotel down the road to crowd our yard and eat my Dad’s smoked brisket, a few more bridal party guests have started to arrive, including Jessica, Cara’s maid of honor, who shows up with arms full of presents and bachelorette gear—champagne bottles, fake tiaras, dick necklaces, dick lollipops, dick everything. It’s surreal, watching Cara’s friends surround her. It makes me see her as a whole person.
It makes me wish I had Sybil, Willow, and Emma here too.
The place is turning into pure chaos until finally, Cooper suggests taking everyone out to karaoke and beer at Big Jay’s in town.
“Great idea, babe!” Cara says, but I can’t help but notice that the smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
It’s funny: I’ve seen Cara be “fake” in all the petty ways—those sugary-sweet jabs we’ve traded for the past week and a half. But looking at her now, I’m reminded of that day at the dress shop when she pretended to like the gown my mom picked out. Like she’s putting on a facade to make someone else happy.
And right now, it’s clear that “someone else” is my brother.
Cooper is totally in his element—making carpool groups and laughing about the time Pete tried to sneak him into Big Jay’s when he was only twenty—and still looked about twelve.
Cara’s pulling off an impressive performance of a cheerful bride, ready to celebrate with this ragtag, impromptu bachelor/bachelorette party crew—but clearly, something is bothering her. Maybe whatever she and Nate were arguing about earlier?
But I don’t have time to dwell on it long, as we’re all ushered out to the driveway.
Mom visibly wilts with relief as we pile into cars to head into town, and I wonder for the millionth time if it was really such a good idea for her to volunteer to host this wedding with so little time to plan. If I should hang back and help her out. But even as I start to offer exactly that, she waves me off.
“Go have fun with the kids,” she insists.
I resist reminding her that unlike Cara and Cooper and all their friends, who are all in their twenties, I’m actually a full-grown thirty-year-old adult now.
A thirty-year-old who tried to tell the guy she likes how she feels, and it blew up in her face.
Cooper and JP head to the bar to order everyone a round, while Cara and Jessica head directly to the karaoke sign-up. The rest of us claim seats as close to the stage as possible.
I shouldn’t be here. I’m the opposite of fun right now. But the idea of curling up in my little hole of a storage room alone for the night seemed equally pitiful, and I guess my pride doesn’t want Nate to think I’ve withdrawn because of him. Because of how much his brush-off hurt.
Everyone else seems to be having a good enough time not to notice my wallowing anyway. The place is packed—neon lights flickering, the smell of beer and barbecue still clinging to our clothes. I’m pleased to see that Cara has come to understand the immense cringe of Cooper and his band days. Though, even I have to admit that his former bandmates—JP, Dave, Kyle, Bryan, and Hunter—are high energy and hilarious. They’re currently reminiscing about past “gigs” (mostly grad parties and a few bonfire nights), where they played such undiscovered hits as “Your Dog Sucks” and “She’s My Kool-Aid.”
Meanwhile, Cara’s girlfriends are giggling as they drape her with a satiny BRIDEsash. Even my older siblings seem loosened up—Linney’s got a rosy glow of someone who rarely has more than one drink, and Pete is trying to challenge half the bar to a game of darts.
I take a sip of my drink and try to feel what they feel. Excited. Carefree. Something.
