If the Shoe Fits
Page 9
Sabine rocketed out of the chair so fast it wobbled. “You coming, Bec?”
“I’ll finish my meal and come see in a few minutes,” she said calmly.
“Okay!” Sabs called over her shoulder, already three-quarters of the way up the hall.
Smiling, Bec shook her head. “Sorry, she’s been antsy all week about it.”
“It’s fine. I know what she’s like.”
Sabine’s voice bounced off the hallway walls. “Jana! I’m here! Come on!”
Sighing, I backed toward the hallway. “Fair warning, I might strangle her before the ceremony.”
Bec’s dimples made an appearance. “Please don’t, we’ve already paid for everything.” She chuckled and turned back to her dinner, and I dutifully made my way into the spare room after a quick stop to wash my hands lest I soil The Dress.
The dress I’d bought at Mom’s insistence was laid flat on the bed, waiting to be taken for alterations. Sabs, practically vibrating with excitement, pointed at the bed. “Is that your party dress?”
“Mhmm.”
“It’s nice, you’ll look gorgeous.”
“Yeah.” I bent down to smooth the fabric. “Brooke found it, right about when I was ready to throw in the towel.”
“Apparently this Brooke is an angel in disguise.” She hopped back a step, away from my swatting hand. With a quick, sly grin she accepted her victory before her face relaxed back to her previous desperate expression. “Ceremony dress now, please. I’ve been stressing about it all week.”
“Stay right there, and no peeking in this closet.” My spare room closet held both wedding gowns to keep them safe from accidental fiancée exposure. Though both dresses were safely contained in black garment bags, I had a sudden and irrational fear that she’d somehow see Bec’s dress.
Sabs hummingbirded around the room. “Is it fine? It looks good, right? It’s the same as your first fitting and stuff?” She’d seen the bare-bones version of the dress when we’d gone to choose color and style but hadn’t made it to any other fittings I’d had since.
“As I said the four times in the last four days since collecting it, yes yes yes yes.” I slipped the dress from the closet and quickly closed the door. “I have to put it on, don’t I.”
She nodded so vigorously I was surprised she didn’t give herself whiplash. “Mhmm, yep, please.”
I bit back a sigh and quickly stripped out of my ultra-comfortable sweats and tee and stepped carefully into the dress. Moving my hair out of the way, I told her, “Zip me up, please. Watch my skin,” I added quickly when she half-lunged at me in her haste to finish dressing me.
Before I could turn around, Sabs grabbed me by the shoulders and spun me to face her. She blinked hard a couple of times and when she spoke, her voice was rough and choked. “Oh wow, you look so beautiful.”
“Eh, I know.” I leaned closer, studying her widened eyes and the trembling lower lip she held firmly between her teeth. “Are you crying?”
“Geez, what do you take me for? Some kind of sap?” She sniffed, paused and gave me her lopsided grin. “Of course I’m fucking crying. You look so amazing.” Sabs gave my cheek a fond caress and turned to yell out the door, “Honey, can you come in here please?” She palmed under her eyes, still sniffling, and I had to clench my teeth to stop my tear ducts joining in with her happy crying.
Bec appeared thirty seconds later, beer bottle in hand. She leaned against the door, nodding in appreciation. “Hey, that looks fantastic.”
My sister turned me to face her fiancée, and I went limp, allowing myself be moved around like a puppet. Sabine shook me side to side. “The color’s great, isn’t it great?”
“Yes, darling,” Bec agreed. “It’s great. Just what we’d thought it would be.”
“And isn’t the cut perfect?”
Bec shot me an apologetic look, then agreed again, “Mhmm, perfect. Jana, you look wonderful.” She offered a hand to Sabs. “Are you going to come out and finish your dinner now?”
“Yeah.” Sabs swiftly unzipped me and yanked me in for a hug, whispering in my ear, “You look gorgeous. Thank you, Jannie, thank you. I feel so much better now.” She finished her hug with a rib-crushing squeeze then practically skipped out of the room. Bec’s eyes met mine briefly to share a knowing look, then she turned to follow, leaving me to change.
Sabine’s obvious relief was worth my annoyance but still, I could not wait until I had my regular, Type-A and slightly anxious sister back instead of this mega-panicked nitpicky micro-Bridezilla.
After dinner, Bec ducked into my bedroom to take a work call while Sabs and I settled on the couch. She stuck her feet up on my coffee table again, her toes curling and then relaxing rhythmically a few times. “What are you doing this weekend? Hot Friday night date tomorrow?”
“Actually no, I’m going out for drinks with Brooke.” I leaned back and curled my legs under my butt.
“Oh. So she’s a good friend then? I thought she was just a work acquaintance.”
“Not yet, but I think she could be. We’ve been meeting up in the mornings for coffee and mindless chitchat.”
“I see. Well if there’s one thing us Fleischers are good at, it’s mindless chitchat.”
I had to squash the sudden urge to fidget. “Maybe you know her? She’s a lesbian,” I added when Sabine shot me a confused look.
“What’s her last name?”
“Donnelly.”
Sabs snapped her fingers. “Oh! Yeah, of course! Brooke Donnelly!”
“Really?”
“No,” she said flatly, her eye roll overly exaggerated. “What do you think, Jannie? That all lesbians are card-carrying members of the Lez Club and that we spend our whole lives making sure we know every lesbian on the planet?”
“Okay then, obviously not. Shit, you could have just said no.”
But she was on a roll. “It’s like when you tell someone you’re part German, and they immediately think you know some German person they sat next to on a bus ten years ago, or their great-uncle so-and-so from fucking Wolfsberg that even they haven’t met.”
I lifted my hands to stop her rambling. “Fine, Christ. I’m sorry I asked.” After a beat I added, “Well, do we know the great-uncle so-and-so from Wolfsberg?”
She grinned. “Shut up, you.”
I poked her hard in the stomach. “Brooke also plays that Frisbee game you were talking about a few months back. She’s invited me to come watch a game.”
“Ohhhh, yeah, I’d forgotten about that. Cool.”
“Mmm. So yeah, we’ve been hanging out a bit.”
“Good, you need more friends.”
“I do?” I straightened up on the couch, suddenly suspicious. She’d never been pushy about my social life. Love life, yeah—that was fair game. But aside from defending me against mean kids in school, she’d never seemed to care who I hung around with.
“Yeah, you do. Bec and I aren’t always going to be around, you know.”
Irrational panic rose up and I leaned forward, grasping her arm. “What do you mean? What’s going on? Are you moving? Are you sick?”
“No, of course not.” She stroked my hair comfortingly, then pulled me in for a quick hug. “But you know, we have jobs and lives and vacations and shit. And maybe one day we will move, if there’s a job opportunity somewhere that’s too good to pass up. Sometimes I worry about you being lonely, that’s all.”
Bec’s reappearance put an abrupt end to our rapidly-turning-sad conversation. She dropped her phone into her handbag and made her way toward us. “Sorry, paperwork issue.” She settled on the couch, pressed against Sabine and pushed her hand under the hem of Sabs’s jersey. I saw the movement as she scratched my sister’s belly and the change in Sabine was immediate, as though someone had released a pressure valve. For the trillionth time I sent a silent thank-you to whatever force had brought Bec into Sabs’s life. And maybe for the thousandth time, I hoped one day I’d have something like what they shared.
“Sure,” I agreed. “I want to see how someone can make Frisbee into a competitive sport.”
One of her eyebrows rose with comical slowness. “Anything can be competitive, Jana.”
“Darling,” Bec interjected. “How exactly are you going to fit another activity into your schedule?”
Sabs shrugged. “I’ll manage. Besides, now is the perfect time before I finish my contract and change to a civvie job, and my hours are really, really fucked up instead of just really fucked up.”
Rebecca did nothing but give Sabs, what seemed to me, a regular innocuous smile.
Sabine’s nose wrinkled. “Don’t think I don’t know what that look means, babe.”
Bec affected an innocent look. “What? I was agreeing with you.”
“Nuh-uh. That was the I’m not sure it’s a good idea, darling look.” Sabs’s fingers played against Bec’s ribs until she squirmed and begged for mercy. When she went limp, Sabine leaned in and kissed her.
The kiss went on for long enough for me to have to clear my throat, and Sabs pulled away after murmuring something to Bec that made her smile again. My sister leaned back against the couch, an arm sliding around Bec’s shoulders. “So, Mom said she went to the florist to check the bouquet orders and they showed her a demo.” She flashed me a cheeky grin. “Wanna see the pictures?”
Oh, for the love of—
Chapter Nine
Friday morning, in anticipation of my evening at the bar, I took an Uber instead of driving. Work blurred steadily until all my meetings, briefs, drafts, phone calls, and nitty-gritty things were done. Brooke had texted me just after lunch with the details of a bar a few blocks from our building, and at five p.m. I responded to let her know I was just finishing up work and would meet her there in twenty minutes.
Wide smiley emoji response. Cute.
When I arrived thirty-five minutes later, I spotted her sitting at the bar nursing a half-empty glass of white and wove through the thin crowd of Friday post-work drinkers to slip onto the seat beside her. “Sorry I’m late,” I said, which was my version of a normal person’s hello.
Brooke turned sideways on her barstool to face me. “Hey, no problem at all.” She glanced down.
I twitched my ridden-up skirt back down to mid thigh. “Just to give you fair warning, for future meetups, I’m always late unless it’s work. Then I’m ridiculously, borderline OCD punctual.”
She laughed. “Surely not.”
“Surely yes. My family call it Jana Time. The time I’m told to be at family events is always earlier than everyone else and I usually still get there late. For some reason, something super important like redoing my eyeliner or checking YouTube and social media always comes up.” I leaned over the bar, smiled at the cute bartender to catch his attention then turned back to Brooke. “My therapist says I’m subconsciously balancing out all my time spent waiting while early for court and clients. I think it’s her way of being polite when she’s really saying I’m just a total time flake with no respect for other people’s schedules.”
She laughed again, shaking her head as though she couldn’t quite believe what I’d said was true. It was. One hundred percent. The bartender paused in front of us, and I pointed at Brooke’s wineglass. “Two of what she’s having, thank you.”
Brooke protested mildly, “Hey now, I’m already ahead.”
“Well I’ll just have to catch up.” I pulled out my credit card and placed it on the bar.
“And also, I thought the deal was a round of drinks on me.”
Oh, right. “No matter, you can get the next round then, or rounds in future drinking sessions.”
Her lips quirked. “So there will be future drinking sessions?”
“Well I’d assumed so. Unless you reveal something abhorrent tonight.” I clutched her arm, mouth open in feigned horror. “You’re not a Republican, are you?”
She gasped. “What do you take me for? Of course I’m not.”
“Phewww. Secret lover of Britney Spears?”
She shook her head slowly, adopting a serious expression. “Nope. Not that there’s anything wrong with her or her fans, of course.”
“Of course. How do you feel about Ryan Reynolds?”
“Well, I’m a sucker for a good rom-com, so yeah, The Proposal was pretty good, though that might have been Sandra Bullock influencing my decision. But if we’re going to dig into it, then I’m going to have to say Two Guys, a Girl and a Pizza Place has been his best work so far.”
“Okay. You pass.”
Brooke sagged, pretending to wipe sweat from her forehead. “Ohmygoodness. I’m so glad I studied for this get-together.”
“Study is the key to success, or so my mom always said.” At Brooke’s questioning look, I explained, “She was a high school teacher at our school. English and history. Now she works part-time at the school’s admin and subs in teaching when needed.”
“Did she ever teach you?”
“Thankfully no. My sister was such a teacher’s pet, she would have melted in panic if Mom taught her, and I was…uh, kind of naughty in school.” And outside it too.
She deadpanned, “I don’t believe it.” Her expression slipped midway through her teasing, giving way to a grin. “Do your parents live in D.C.?” Brooke downed the last quarter inch of her wine.
“No, they’re still in Ohio. They settled there once my dad was done in the Army and haven’t moved from that house since.”
Both her eyebrows shot up. “Ahhh, so Sabine followed in your father’s footsteps with the Army then?”
I was both surprised and pleased that she’d remembered both Sabine’s name and part of her occupation. “She did. And my grandfather and great-grandfather’s too.”
“Nice. How about you? Never considered joining the military?”
“Ugh, no, not for me. And not even ten seasons of JAG could convince me to become a military lawyer.”
“Well if those smokin’ hot uniforms can’t change your mind, then nothing can,” she said dryly. Two more glasses of wine arrived. I pounced on mine and clinked it against hers.
“Cheers.” Brooke sipped, making a low rumbling sound of enjoyment. “God that’s good.”
I drank a large mouthful, enjoying the mild fruitiness playing over my tongue. Brooke had good taste in wine. “Very.” After a quick glance around the space, I turned my attention back to her. “Are you okay here or did you want to move to a corner or something?” Though the bar wasn’t crowded by any stretch, there were still people moving around and standing close-ish to order.
“Nope, it’s fine. I come here fairly regularly and know it’s usually quiet, even on a Friday. Plus the staff are semi-familiar so it’s fine.” She smiled shyly. “But thank you for thinking of me.”
“You’re welcome,” I murmured.
She swiveled on her stool, staring intently at me, and I thought she was going to say something deep. Instead she asked, “You hungry?”
“Starving. I just remembered I skipped lunch.”
“Are you adverse to something greasy? A glass of wine on an empty stomach, and I’m afraid I’m going to start talking shit. Well, even more shit than I already have.”
“I think I’d enjoy listening to you talking shit but I rarely turn down something greasy.”
Grinning, she turned away to lean over the bar, trying to catch the attention of one of the bartenders. The way the pose showed off her enviable cleavage, I wasn’t surprised that it took less than ten seconds for one of them to come over again. I also wasn’t surprised when he jumped at the chance to help the moment her voice dropped to something low and sultry as she ordered.
Brooke dropped back onto her stool, crossed her legs and spun back to face me. “Nachos, cheese sticks, and fries. Sorry, I’m a hungry drinker and I missed lunch too.”
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br /> “Oh dear God, don’t apologize. I feel like you’ve tapped into my secret eating fantasies.”
She bit her lower lip, the corners of her mouth turning up in little twitches. Then it seemed she couldn’t hold it back any longer, and said with more than a hint of amusement, “Mm, well of course those things I ordered are great, but they don’t top my list of, uh…eating fantasies.”
Laughing, I swatted at her. “Why, Ms. Donnelly, are you flirting with me?”
The flush, which was becoming familiar, appeared on her cheeks and neck. She didn’t answer but looked like she was mentally sorting through possible responses and coming up short with every option as she turned her wineglass around and around on the bar.
I jumped in. “Sorry, I kind of feel like I’m always putting my foot in my mouth and making you uncomfortable.”
“No problem. I sometimes miss social cues, so…” She paused coyly, then with a wink added, “And yes, I might be flirting with you. Or maybe the wine is.”
The thought sent a warm thrill through my body. Interesting. I stared into my glass, searching for something neutral to rein my wayward thoughts back. “So uh, your younger brother. Does he live in D.C. or just visiting that morning we met?”
The corners of her mouth were now lifted in what looked suspiciously like a knowing smile. “Marshall lives here. He finished his journalism degree last year and is interning at The Hill thanks to a helpful professor who thought the sun shone out of Marshall’s butt. He’s aiming high, wants to get into the White House press corps, and of course he’ll get there because he’s one of those annoying people who always gets what they want because they work so hard.”
“Ah, yeah, my sister is like that. Assholes,” I added with a laugh. “Are you guys close?”
Her nose wrinkled. “Not really. I mean I love him but uh, we were kind of…I suppose estranged would be the best way to describe it. I’m pretty sure my mom got in his ear about me, was worried I’d corrupt him with my gayness I guess, and he was kind of distant physically and emotionally until recently.” She smiled, though it was thoughtful rather than pleased. “Thankfully Marshall learned to think for himself when he left for college and turns out he’s pretty liberal.”