by Andi Burns
My smile is sincere as I face Molly. “You’re wrong, Molls. It’s definitely you. You and your sass and your jokes make everything better. And you’re perceptive as hell. Joel’s date could definitely use a sandwich. Just make sure it’s tofu wrapped in kale. Victoria is allergic to carbs.”
It takes Molly a minute to catch on, and I can’t blame her. I was shocked as hell when I saw my ex-wife on Joel Peretti’s arm tonight. I can only guess that the universe decided that two miserable, self-involved people deserve each other.
“That’s Victoria? Elaine’s ice queen former sister-in-law? Your ex-wife?”
“Yep.”
“So you saw them?” Nate returns with our drinks in tow. “I wasn’t sure it was her at first. I was just an intern when you were still married to her, but—”
“But Victoria leaves a lasting impression everywhere she goes,” I tell him.
“You’re right about that. So, what can I do? Run interference? Trip one of them? Whatever you need, I’m here for it.”
Molly reaches out to pinch his cheek, and he actually lets her. And he blushes. Nate’s a grown ass man with an advanced degree in business from Northwestern, and he’s blushing like a kid at my girlfriend’s approval. I shouldn’t be surprised, though. No one is immune to Molly’s charm.
“We’re keeping him, Ev. I like this one.”
“He’s not a puppy, Molls. But, yea, he’s a keeper.” At my offhand praise, Nate nearly glows. I’m about to open my mouth to politely decline his ridiculous offers, but I don’t get the chance.
“Madigan. I’m sure you’ve met my date, Victoria.”
Met his date? What the hell is with this asshole? Yes, I’ve met her. I was married to her, for chrissakes.
“Victoria, Joel,” I nod. “I’d like you to meet Molly Randall, my girlfriend. And, of course, you both know my colleague, Nate.”
“Colleague? So he’s not your secretary anymore?” Victoria has clearly had five drinks too many. I don’t recall that being much of an issue when we were married, but it might have been. We really never spent a lot of time together, not the way that Simon and Elaine or Duncan and Betsy do.
Nate bristles at her comment, but I sense it when he steels himself and laughs it off, just like he needs to do, if he’s going to make it in this cut-throat business. “Victoria, it’s lovely to see you again. Your glass is empty. Let me fix that. I’ll be right back.”
My ex hardly needs another drink, but Nate is probably happy for the escape.
“I got your email this afternoon, Joel. I appreciate the gesture, but we have Chicago under control.” My words are smooth and subtle, relaying the message, but not embarrassing him in front of his date.
It soon becomes clear that he doesn’t need my help in that department. He can embarrass himself just fine.
“Fuck you, Madigan,” he spits. A few heads turn, and I smile good-naturedly, hoping to convince them that they didn’t hear what they thought they heard.
“You ready for another drink, Love?” I ask Molly, sweeping her forward and away from the shitshow that is surely brewing.
I’m not fast enough, though.
Victoria reaches out and grabs Molly’s arm. The surprise of it all allows her to get a decent grip, but not for long. Molly pulls her arm back forcefully and glares at my ex-wife. “Is there a reason you felt the need to touch me?”
The venom in Molly’s tone doesn’t even register. Victoria’s eyes are glassy, and she stumbles a bit as she leans forward. “He’s not going to marry you, sweetie. Ev’s married to his work. He always has been. I bet you think you’re different, but you’re not.”
“That’s what you don’t get, Victoria. I am different. I’m not looking for marriage. I’m just here for Ev.” And with that, my gorgeous, classy, curvy girl leads me to the bar.
And I happily follow.
I wake up to the sound of a phone buzzing. It’s not my alarm or my ringtone, but it yanks me from my slumber all the same. There’s a note from Ev on the pillow next to mine saying that he’s at the gym, and he’ll be back by 9. Stretching out my deliciously sore muscles (thanks, Ev), I roll out of bed to grab my phone to check the time. I rummage through my bag to find it there at the bottom, totally out of charge. Okay, no biggie. Now, I just need to find my charger.
That takes a full five minutes, but it’s time well spent. Meanwhile, Ev’s phone keeps buzzing, but I just ignore it.
I still have no idea what time it is or how soon Ev will be back, but I decide a shower is probably a good idea, either way. And if he happens to join me halfway through, all the better. I gather my clothes, my toiletries and my straightener. (Yes, I am high maintenance and damn proud of it). I dump my supplies in the spacious bathroom and scoot back into our room to grab my robe, when I hear that damn buzzing again. My phone still isn’t awake, so I check Ev’s. It occurs to me that something could’ve happened with Elaine and the baby, so I grab the phone and feel immediate relief when I see Nick’s name next to a GIF of Captain Jack Sparrow talking about his love of weddings. Ok, if they’re trading wedding GIFs, there’s clearly no baby crisis. Breathing a sigh of relief, I set the phone down, but another text comes through, and it catches my eye.
Duncan: Get ready, Ev, you’re next!
Wait, what? Now I’m gripping the phone like it’s a lifeline and scrolling up to see if I missed something that makes this a joke. Like, maybe they’re taking turns dressing up as Jack Sparrow for Halloween? Yea, that’s got to be it.
But it’s not.
The texts just keep coming through.
Simon: Lainie would flip her shit if Ev and Molly got engaged
Nick: I can’t wait to plan your bachelor party, Ev. All the stuff you won’t let us do for Simon is on the agenda for your party. Payback’s a bitch.
Dunc: Hey, why not make it a double wedding? (sends GIF of Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman saying, I want the fairy tale.)
I put down the phone and stop reading; I should never have started. I shake it off and step into the shower, letting the hot water relax me. I go through the motions of washing, rinsing, and repeating, and before long, my skin is pruny, and the water is turning cold.
My regular routine takes a half an hour or so, and I use that time to talk myself off the ledge. I need to chill, so I don’t go batshit on the man the minute he walks in from his workout. Because, really, he’s done nothing wrong. I can’t hold him responsible for our friends’ dumb texts. And he never really weighed in on the thread—he only gave a thumbs up to Simon’s initial text, letting us know that Elaine found a veil online that she has to have. They carry it in a store out in Red Oak, which is a little more than half an hour from where we’re staying. Simon’s having a courier deliver it to our hotel, so we can bring it back home.
So. No reason to freak out. I shouldn’t even be annoyed at the boys. Marriage is the inevitable conclusion of many relationships. Besides, those guys live for giving each other a hard time about anything, so I’m sure this is just another excuse to spam each other’s phones with GIFs and stupid jokes.
By the time Ev returns, all sweaty and gross, I’m relaxing with a cup of tea and a good book by the window.
“I won’t kiss you, but only because I stink.”
“Seriously. I can smell you from over here,” I joke.
“Yea, yea. I’m gonna hop in the shower, and then we’ll head out for the day? I know you wanted to do some exploring? I got some info on the Arboretum.”
“Sounds good,” I say, because it does. I am determined to forget all about the text convo I wasn’t supposed to see, so I can enjoy our day together.
Something’s off with Molly, but I can’t quite figure out what it is. And I’m not dumb enough to ask a woman what’s wrong.
So, I’ll wait it out, figuring that she’ll either tell me what’s bugging her or that it will go away naturally. Maybe it’s a headache or the time change or something.
We wind our way through the outdoor walkways lined
with flowers and enjoy a gorgeous day in Dallas. The conversation is fine, but I’d be lying if I said it was as easy, as effortless as always. Hell, maybe this all stems from meeting my ex last night. That woman is like a black cloud of misery.
“You hungry for lunch soon?” I ask. Food’s always a good idea, right?
“I never say no to lunch.” She smiles.
“There’s a great barbecue place on every corner, if the internet is to be believed.”
“Ha! That doesn’t surprise me.”
“Here,” I hold out my phone. “You want to see what looks good?” Her face blanches like I just showed her a knife and not a device we both use constantly. Okay…
“You pick. I feel like it would be hard to find bad barbecue in Texas. And we drove by a bakery on our way in. That’s a sign of a good food day.”
“I like the way you think, Gorgeous. First stop, barbecue. Then we can walk around the market and work up an appetite for cheesecake.”
“Speak for yourself, Handsome. I always have an appetite for cheesecake. But I do want to check out the Farmer’s Market, so count me in.”
I fiddle with my phone for a few minutes, figuring out the best routes to all the places we’re going. I get an incoming text from Nate, giving an update on the files he’s working on. I feel momentarily guilty that he’s elbow-deep in paperwork, while I spend the day as a tourist with my girlfriend.
“Poor Nate’s back at the hotel, crunching numbers for our meeting on Monday.”
“That guy is a workhorse. He wants to show you how capable he is.”
“That’s the thing, Molls. He’s damn sharp. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s promoted in the next year or so.”
“Aw, don’t tell me you’re attached and going to miss him.”
“I sure as fuck will. We make a good team.”
“Well then, since he’s cooped up in a hotel room while we gallivant around town, why don’t you have some food delivered to his suite?”
“You are a genius.”
“Accurate,” she says, with a smile and a flip of her hair. There’s my girl.
The day has flown by, and I loved every minute of it. The gardens were gorgeous, the market was full of great finds, and the food here is amazing. It’s late afternoon now, and I need a bath, a bed, and some sexy-time, not necessarily in that order.
“Molls, I want to stop by the front desk. I got a message from Simon that the veil Elaine wanted was delivered an hour ago. And I’ve been given orders to send a screenshot of it, just to make sure it’s the right one.” He rolls his eyes, as though he’s above all this nonsense.
“No problem, and quit your eye-rolling. Your sister has been so chill about this whole thing. All she wants is a pretty veil she saw online and not to puke on her wedding day. I hardly think that’s too much to ask.”
“You’ve got a point,” he concedes. We walk over to the check-in desk, and Ev gets his ID out, so he can sign for the package.
Barry, the balding man behind the desk, is damn near beside himself with excitement. Just how special is this veil?
“Yes, sir, we certainly do have the veil. It arrived earlier today. I’ll have Nancy release it from our locked cabinet.”
Nancy looks only too happy to do Barry’s bidding, as she sashays off to the secret storage unit. It’s all very hush-hush, like they know something we don’t. I take a sec to message Elaine.
Molly: What’s the deal with this veil, sweetie?
Elaine: OMG. Am I being a bridezilla? It’s just so pretty, and I saw it online and wanted it so badly. At this rate, I’ll be wearing pjs to my wedding… (sad face)
Molly: No, I didn’t mean that! You deserve whatever makes you feel pretty. But, like, is it made of rare jewels or some shit?
Molly: Holy Jesus. Tell me this thing is not made of ivory?!!!!!!
Elaine: Oh, God no, that’s awful. No animal parts, I promise. You know me better than that. And it’s made of satin and Swarovski crystals. Is it pretty?
Elaine: Oh, no. Is it ugly?
Molly: Chill, E. I’m sure it’s not ugly. I haven’t seen it yet, but I’ll send a pic. The hotel staff is getting it from storage.
Elaine: Cool. But why are you freaking out about my veil? Like, what the hell with the ivory stuff?
Molly: Sorry, I’m in a weird place today. And the Barry hotel guy is being super secretive. Like, they locked your veil in a special room.
Elaine: Woah. Who knew it was that fancy. Thanks for getting it for me. And for doing all of that wedding stuff—that had to be exhausting!
Molly: No worries. And actually, it’s been tons of fun. You know I love to plan a party. Have you made any decisions? (Not bugging you, just being nosy)
Elaine: Ugh. No. Will you hate me if I say it’s all so completely overwhelming, and I don’t know where to start? And that’s shitty of me, I know. You guys have done all of this research and recon, but I still don’t know what we’re going to do.
Molly: Lovely, you stop that right now. We’ve had fun (and lots of sex), so we’re definitely not mad you threw us together to be your wedding planners.
Elaine:( Shocked face emoji)s
Molly: You guys have to do what’s right for you. Hell, have a cookout in the backyard, I don’t care. :)
Molly: ^^^Amend that to say I don’t care, as long as I’m still the MOH
Elaine: You know you are. And does that make Ev your best man? (laughing emojis)
Molly: Yea, um, I don’t think that’s the way it works…
Elaine: Blame the kid. This pregnancy is sucking my brain away.
Molly: I’m truly sorry to hear that. And so glad I don’t want children. Oh, Ev’s got your veil. I’ll take a pic for your approval. Love you!
Elaine: Love you! Ev already sent a pic to Simon, and yes, it’s the right one. (Heart emojis.)
“You ready to head up or do you want to stop at the bar for a drink?” Ev asks.
“Nah, I’m good. I’m going to take these shoes off, run a bath, and relax.”
“Sounds like a good way to spend the evening.”
“Oh, did I mention I’m also riding you like a cowgirl?”
“I mean, we are in Texas, so…”
We haul our packages from the day and Elaine’s veil into the elevator and ride it up to our floor. Despite the fact that I’m holding two shopping bags, my hands are itching with need for Ev.
He unlocks our door and holds it open. I walk through and scream.
“Holy shit, Molly, what’s wrong?” He steps in behind me, and I know I’m being ridiculous, but there are no words for the scene in front of me.
It’s like the bridal shower aisle of Party City threw up in here.
Giant gold Mylar balloons are tied to nearly every surface, and there’s a Goddamn balloon arch over the bed.
Someone shaped our towels into a pair of kissing swans, and there’s a bucket of champagne chilling by the bed.
The word Congratulations is spelled out in rose petals on the duvet, and someone has stacked rolls of toilet paper up, so they resemble a wedding cake.
“Are we in the wrong room?”
“No,” Ev sighs. “I guess this is what he meant.”
“What? What who meant? What are you talking about?
“Barry, down at the desk. He and Nancy did all this.”
“Wait, you knew about this?”
“No, but when we were waiting for Elaine’s veil, he kept saying things like ‘have a great night’ and ‘I hope your room is to your liking.’ I thought he was just making awkward small talk, but now it all makes sense. I’m guessing he thought the veil was yours and that we were, well, getting married.
I walk around the room like it’s a crime scene, and I’m careful not to touch anything. The pop of the champagne cork nearly sends me into hysterics. “What are you doing?” I hiss. “We can’t drink that! It’s not ours!”
He ignores my words and frantic hand gestures and pours two full glasses.
; “It is ours, Molly. They’re not going to take it back. Here, have a sip. It’ll help you to calm down.”
I turn my head sharply. “Did you just tell me to calm down?”
“Oh, hell. You know that’s not what I meant. But you are kind of freaking out over a few balloons and a misunderstanding.”
“A misunderstanding?” My voice is deceptively calm.
“Yea, a misunderstanding.” He sits on the bed and takes a drink of champagne.”
“What the actual hell is happening right now?”
“That’s what I‘m wondering, Molls. Look, we had a wedding veil couriered to us, so they assumed we were engaged. It’s not a huge leap if they don’t know our circumstances. So, we enjoy their kind gesture.”
“And they don’t know our ‘circumstances’ as you put it, because you didn’t correct them.”
“Of course, I didn’t. How awkward would that have been? ‘Hey, Barry, do you have my sister’s wedding veil? I’m dying to see it.’ Yea, no. I just played along.”
“Yea, you just played along without ever thinking of how it might hurt me.”
“How it might hurt you? What the ever-loving fuck, Molls? Explain to me how these swans made of towels make you a victim?”
“You don’t understand.”
“You’re damn right I don’t understand—because you’re not making any sense. Look, I get it, it’s weird for two people who are casually dating to walk into a honeymoon suite. But we laugh it off, make fun of the weird toilet-paper cake, and drink some champagne. No harm, no foul.”
“Just...no.” I’m pacing now, and my common sense has totally left the building. Nothing about my thoughts is rational, and though I know that, I can’t do anything to stop them. “I don’t want this, Ev. I don’t want any of this.”
“Yea, Molls, I’m reading that loud and clear. It’s why I’m 40-years-old and still nervous about introducing you as my girlfriend for fear you’ll get spooked and split. I’m fully aware that you don’t see a honeymoon suite in our future.”
“I don’t even want to see it in our present. I’m going to call them and explain. I’ll pack it all up, and they can take it away.”