I’d never considered this possibility. Maybe I should have, given the way he described her mental state. I imagined Oliver was carrying an enormous amount of guilt. Perhaps that was why he’d never mentioned her death to me.
“Sadly, I always feared it would come to this,” he said. “Some people are marred by tragedy.”
For years, I’d felt like I was one of those people. Rich girl with a lonely upbringing, family history plagued with death. I built some connections—with Marmee and Ava and Constance and Marlowe, my career—but the rest of life felt fleeting, unfixed.
Until Oliver. His presence had taught me maybe I wasn’t meant to go through life alone. I looked at the dazzling diamond and sapphire ring on my finger, unable to shake my horrible heartache for Danielle.
“How did you find out about it?” Oliver asked just as a plane droned overhead.
“I read the obituary online.”
“That’s a strange hobby to take up,” he said, fixing me with a curious stare. “Reading obituaries.”
“The name caught my attention,” I explained. “It seems like just yesterday I ran into her.”
He stood then, looking over the balcony at the night skyline, sparkling buildings and stars in the distance. Before he walked back inside, I asked him, “Which family member called to tell you?”
“Her mother,” he said. “Poor woman was beside herself with grief.”
I couldn’t imagine how difficult it must be to lose a child. The unbearable loss. Perhaps thinking of this unknown woman and her strife was why the tragedy of Danielle Schwartz refused to leave me, why it lingered like smoke after a candle had been snuffed out.
“Earth to Tippi,” Ava said, snapping her fingers in my face. “We can’t plan your bachelorette party without your input.”
Days had passed since my conversation with Oliver. I’d met Ava and Constance at a sleek Mediterranean restaurant to discuss more weddingfestivities, but even then, my thoughts swarmed around Danielle’s haunting face.
“Sorry,” I said, shaking my head to try and refocus. “Lots on my mind.”
“Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet,” Constance said, dipping a triangle of pita bread into tzatziki.
“It’s not that. I’ve just been busy trying to figure out work. If Oliver and I are going to travel after the wedding, I’ll have to pre-record a shitload of content, and I’m starting to get overwhelmed.”
I hadn’t told them I’d turned down my invitation to Cannes. Ava would have said it was the right call, on account of the wedding, but I knew Constance would question the decision, worry I was putting my own enlightenment on pause for the sake of my relationship.
“You have plenty of time,” Ava said. She placed a spiral-bound notebook in the center of the table. “Right now, we’re talking fun. I want this to be special. A new location where we can really celebrate this next chapter. I’ve narrowed it down to three places. Nashville. Palm Springs. Miami. Let’s discuss.”
“Why so far away?”
“You can’t leave your fiancé to celebrate with the girls? Gag me with a spoon,” Ava said, stabbing the notebook with a pen. “Palm Springs would be the farthest away, but the others are only a couple of hours by plane.”
“Why Nashville?” Constance asked.
“It’s one of the leading locations for bachelorette parties,” she said. “Tons of stuff to do.”
“Have you started without me?” Marlowe stood at the end of the table, a giant messenger bag hanging from her shoulder.
“Brunch started at eleven,” Ava said, a hint of superiority in her voice. I wondered if the two of them had spoken since the blowup at the dress fitting.
“We’re trying to decide where to go for my bachelorette party,” I said, pulling out the seat beside me. “We need your vote.”
“I really can’t stay. The restaurant is short-staffed this week and needsme to come in early for some prep.” She ignored the other women to focus on me. “I only popped in to see you.”
“Are you kidding?” Constance said. “We haven’t even ordered our entrées.”
“Good thing I work in a kitchen.”
Marlowe stayed around long enough to enter her vote—Miami, for the food scene—before taking off. She barely spoke to Ava.
“Have you two even talked about what happened during the dress fitting?” I asked her after Marlowe left.
