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I take in her McMansion from the curved drive out front. It’s the kind of house you find on those snarky websites that make fun of ostentatious suburban homes. It’s quite something, the Kritters’s house, with its turret, giant French doors, and perfectly coiffed landscaping.
Personally, I prefer my dinky apartment in the city.
It was never a secret that Krista liked the finer things in life and if anything, her ambitions were supported by my mother, who never made it out of what she saw as the drudgery of the middle class. Mom made sure Krista went to the best summer camps, had the prettiest clothes of any girl in her class, the most lavish birthday parties—even if it meant she had to take extra shifts at the furniture store where she worked to afford it.
As for me, they never understood why I wasn’t interested in any of that crap, only tagging along when I had to. I was the weirdo. The odd man out. Still am.
When Krista got her hooks into Carter, she was somehow able to overlook his creepiness, and she never let him go. He was her ticket out of the ’burbs we grew up in, and she wasn’t missing that train, no matter what. She went as far as to try and convince him she was a virgin when they met and that their wedding night would be her first time doing the deed.
I’ll never know how she got away with that. I’ll also never be the one to tell him his chaste wife is full of shit and was a big old ho at summer camp.
What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.
I take a deep breath before I ring the doorbell, knowing some smiling servant-for-hire will be letting me in, looking over my shoulder for a companion.
I hate to break it to you, Jeeves, but there’s no date for old Livvy tonight.
My plan was to take Arthur as my plus-one, but he bailed thanks to one of his flight attendant friends coming to town.
I considered bringing Jewel but ruled that out pretty quickly. I adore her, I do, but one never knows when she’s going to practice her method acting, or spring one of her crystal readings on someone.
I know I could have invited one of the guys from EastSide, but how the hell could I choose? I am still getting to know them and am a long way from being able to make any sort of decision. If it even comes to that.
Which, I am sure, it won’t.
The amazing thing is that none of them has gotten on my nerves yet, which is a total freaking miracle, not to mention as unlikely as hell freezing over.
Take Owen. My bad, I originally thought he was a stick-up-his-ass hipster. He’s actually a decent, charming guy just trying to make it in the world, who’s in the closet about owning a pet cat.
Weston is much quieter and in fact doesn’t really talk much about himself, but I can tell he comes from a privileged background. I have to hand it to him for all the hard work he does for EastSide, when he probably really doesn’t have to.
And Enzo, sweet, sweet Enzo, who looks after his nonna with a dedication the rest of us could only ever hope for. I know he’s behind the insane vegetarian dishes the guys have been plying me with, even though he never takes credit for any of it.
They’re good guys when it comes down to it, not to mention gorgeous, sexy, attentive…
Why am I here at my sister’s tonight?
The door person at the Kritters lets me in and takes my trench coat, a hand-me-down from my sister. I’m not sure whether I should just walk into the room where I can see people mingling and having pre-dinner drinks, or if I have to be escorted by the hired help. So, while I wait for my coat to be put wherever they put things like that, I look around the massive foyer, which has more crystal chandeliers than a royal palace. Not that I’ve ever been in a royal palace.
I’m immediately hit with the aromas of a multi-course meal, complete with waitstaff and a sommelier for an extra touch, none of whom give a shit that I’m a vegetarian. In fact, I’ll bet my entire store that I’m presented with a plate full of some kind of charred animal flesh. If I say anything, the Kritters will snap and tell me to just eat my veggies.
And to shut up.
Well, they won’t say that part. It will be understood by everyone in hearing distance.
It turns out I am the last to arrive, so as soon as Krista spots me, she corrals everyone to the dining table, denying me the opportunity to suck down a cocktail hour martini or two that would help dull the pain of the evening. I knew I should have left the city earlier.
Everyone takes their seat at the long dining room table according to the name plates Krista set out, so it’s no accident I’m seated between two guys who I can safely assume are single and looking. The one on my left giggles every time he looks my way, and the one on my other side wheezes when he breathes.
Thanks, Krista and Carter, for the top shelf choices you always provide me.
After Carter toasts Krista as if she made the whole meal herself, he goes around the table introducing each of the guests and how he came to know them. My stomach growls loudly, but when I reach for the dinner roll on my bread plate, Krista gives me a dirty look. I smile back and snatch it to my lap when she looks away, breaking off tiny pieces and shoveling them in my mouth, letting them dissolve on my tongue rather than risk being caught chewing.
None too soon, dinner is served and just like I knew would happen, I am facing down some kind of lamb dish. I push my vegetables away so they’re not touching the meat and look around the table for another poor soul in my same position. If there’s another vegetarian present, they are doing a good job of hiding it.
Halfway through the evening, Krista turns to me from her end of the table, and I brace myself for whatever inappropriate thing she’s about to announce.
“Say, Olive, still enjoying the single life in Manhattan?” she calls down the length of the table.
