The Truth About Ever After

by Rachel Schurig

  He looked at me for a long moment, as if debating whether or not he wanted to keep fighting. Finally, he sighed and seemed to visibly deflate. “Okay,” he said, his voice flat. “Invite who you like.”

  Luckily, his phone rang then, effectively ending the fight. It was his parents, calling with their numbers. As Eric chatted with his mother, I sat back down on the couch, looking at my list and wondering why, after all these years, I still wasn’t over it.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Predictably, Sarah wanted to get started on wedding stuff right away. I arranged for a coffee date early the next week so she could meet Jen.

  “Tell me again why we aren’t meeting at the office?” Jen asked, looking around the coffee shop with a longing expression on her face. For a moment I felt bad; I had forgotten that Jen was going through major withdrawals since her doctor had advised her to stop drinking caffeine.

  Jen was looking at me, waiting for an answer. I shrugged. “I just didn’t like the idea of her being there.”

  She looked at me closely, and I felt a deep seed of shame unfurl in my stomach. I wondered if Jen could tell that I hadn’t wanted Sarah around because I knew she would judge our little space. It was not nearly high-end enough for someone like her. Just thinking it made me feel guilty. What the hell did I care what Sarah thought of my work? I loved that office—Jen and I had built it, together.

  I shook my head, trying to banish the dark thoughts. “Are you ready for this?” I asked, managing a smile for my friend. “I don’t think you have any idea what you’re in for with this chick, Jen.”

  “I can deal,” Jen said confidently. “I worked with a lot of spoiled bitches at NoLimits, you know.”

  It took her a minute for her to realize what she had said. When realization finally dawned on her face, I couldn’t help but laugh.

  “Oh, my God, Kiki, I so did not mean you,” she gasped, which only made me laugh all the harder.

  “It’s okay, Jen,” I told her. “I can imagine what you must have thought of me that first day.”

  She blushed a little, and I knew I was right. Despite my laughing, it did sting a little. Sure, I was used to people judging me when they first met me, but it was hard to think of Jen doing the same. Particularly when she had completely blown me away with her first impression—gorgeous, sophisticated, mature, and together. That’s how I saw Jen that day, how I continued to see her now.

  “I knew you were special within minutes, Kiki,” she said, interrupting my thoughts. “I swear I did.” She winked at me. “A little exhausting, maybe, but special.”

  I grinned at her, feeling much better. Unfortunately, Sarah Vandermark chose that exact moment to show up, effectively ruining our warm moment.

  “Kiki!” she cried, hugging me again, as if we hadn’t just seen each other the week before.

  “Hi, Sarah,” I said, checking behind her to make sure her mother wasn’t around. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw Sarah was alone, thanking God for small favors. I didn’t think I could deal with Mrs. Vandermark, not yet.

  I introduced Jen and Sarah, pleased to watch the obvious appraising look cross Sarah’s face. Yeah, just try and find something wrong with her, I thought to myself. Jen Thompson, née Campbell, could outclass and out-style anyone.

  Jen took over the meeting pretty promptly, and I was relieved, watching her in action. She was so good at this. While I was perfectly content to plan parties and club openings, the glitzier and more exciting the better, Jen really excelled at weddings. She just had a way of getting right down to what the bride really wanted.

  Even if the bride is a total bitch like Sarah, I thought to myself.

  Within a half hour we had nailed down the pertinent information. Sarah wanted a very formal wedding, probably in the neighborhood of three hundred guests. She would prefer for everything to take place at the same venue, if at all possible.

  “And we’ll be sparing no expense,” she said, giggling a little. “Daddy wouldn’t hear of it. He always says nothing but the best for me.” She gave a self-deprecating little shrug, and Jen kicked me under the table. I was sure I would burst out laughing any minute.

  “I think the first thing we should do is nail down a venue,” Jen said, her voice as professional as ever. “Everything else depends on the venue, including the date. So why don’t Kiki and I put together some appointments for you? We can either all go together, or Kiki and I can arrange for you and your fiancé, or maybe your parents if you’d rather…”

  Sarah waved her hand dismissively. “I doubt Tom will be joining us for much,” she said. “He’s so busy at work. They depend on him so much, it’s hard for him to get away. You understand,” she said, leaning forward conspiratorially. Suddenly she gasped a little, looking embarrassed. “Sorry,” she whispered, and then quickly changed the subject.

  Jen looked at me, obviously confused by Sarah’s behavior, and I gave her a grim smile, not looking forward to explaining later. “But Mother will want to see everything,” Sarah was saying, as Jen directed her attention back to her.

  That little act had been Sarah’s way of putting Jen in her place. It was classic Sarah Vandermark, pretending to be embarrassed that she had dared bring up a successful husband in front of a woman who was married to a mere construction worker.

  “Would anyone like a refill on their coffee?” I asked, standing up suddenly. I was practically overcome with the urge to slap Sarah, and I knew I had to get away from that table before I said something I would regret.

  “Ooh, Kiks, how sweet of you,” she cooed, smiling up at me. As her eyes met mine, I was positive that she knew I was onto her—and she liked it. She thought it was funny. “Would you be a dear and get me an espresso? Double shot.”

  “More herbal tea for me,” Jen said, rather morosely. I turned and walked over to the espresso bar, shaking my head as I went. Sarah hadn’t changed, not a single bit. As I ordered the drinks, I tried to make myself see the humor in it. How clueless Sarah was, to think someone like Jen would ever be in any way ashamed of a man like Matt. I imagined telling Kara about it later and that did the trick. I was smiling again when I returned to the table.

  As I passed the espresso to Sarah, I saw Jen’s eyes follow it. She breathed in deeply, as if she could somehow inhale the forbidden caffeine. Suddenly her expression changed. She went pale as a grimace broke out over her face. “Excuse me,” she gasped, standing up from the table. She pushed past me and hurried to the back of the coffee shop to the ladies’ room.

  “She’s pregnant, isn’t she?” Sarah asked. She was watching Jen’s retreating back with a shrewd expression on her face. “Beth was the exact same way. The smell of coffee would just send her over the edge.”

  “Mmm,” I murmured noncommittally, wondering if I should go after Jen. I didn’t like the idea of her being alone. But, knowing Jen, she would probably rather have privacy if she was going to be sick. I decided to give her a moment before I went to check on her.

  Which left me alone with Sarah. Great. I wondered who was suffering more at that minute, me or Jen. I figured it did not bode well for my old friendship with Sarah that I would have happily traded places with Jen, puke and all.

  “Well, what about you?” Sarah asked as I reoccupied my seat. “Haven’t you and Emmet been married for years now? What are you waiting for?”

  Of course, Sarah had no idea about the miscarriage, but her words still stung. “Eric and I are just waiting for the right time,” I said.

  “You should get on it,” she said, taking a sip of her espresso. I noted that she did not apologize for her name mistake. “I was just reading an article, and it said women who are married for more than three years before they have children are fifty percent less likely to get pregnant than women who conceive in the first two years.”

  I stared at her. That couldn’t be true, could it? She had to be making that up, just stirring the pot.

  “Beth was so relieved to get pregnant when she did,” Sarah was s
aying. “Did you know she had two tubal pregnancies first?”

  I winced. I was no fan of Beth, but even without my recent experiences, I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

  “And you know what they say about getting pregnant after losing a baby,” Sarah said. I felt my breath catch, turning my head so I was looking at her straight on.

  “What?” I asked, trying to make my voice unconcerned. “What do they say?”

  “Just that the longer it takes to get pregnant, the less likely you’ll keep the baby.”

  My insides seemed to curl up and freeze. Could that be true?

  “Beth figures she was really lucky, what with getting pregnant only two months after the last failure.” I hated the way she said that word—failure. Like the baby had done something wrong. “And look at her now, eight months along and big as a house.” Sarah giggled. “Don’t worry, she has been told she better lose the baby weight extremely quickly if she wants to be a bridesmaid.”

  I stood up suddenly, practically knocking over my chair. “I better go check on Jen,” I said, my voice tight. “I’ll be right back.”

  As I headed to the ladies’ room, I tried to turn my thoughts to my sister-in-law, but it was just no good. Sarah’s words circled around and around in my head, as if on a loop, blocking out everything else.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I could find no information, absolutely nothing, to back up Sarah’s claims—and I looked. I looked for three days straight, until I was finally convinced that there was not any article or anecdote anywhere on the entire Internet to prove her stupid conjectures.

  But I still couldn’t shake the belief that I was messing up, majorly ruining my chances, by waiting. It had only been three weeks since the miscarriage, and the doctor had said I needed to wait at least a month. But surely I should have some kind of plan already in action for the day we could start trying again.

  I spent the next week researching absolutely everything I could about fertility. Apparently there were all kinds of things I could be doing now to better my chances of getting pregnant. From herbs to exercises, even acupuncture. I made a list of all of them, printing out articles and highlighting the things I wanted to try.

  When it had been a full month since the miscarriage, I decided it was time to get the ball rolling. The heavy weight in my chest whenever I thought about the baby I had lost had not dissipated much, but it was now laced with a manic kind of fear. Somehow I just knew that I couldn’t wait, not this time. I needed to get pregnant again. Wouldn’t that be the best way to make this terrible feeling go away?

  A little voice in the back of my head told me I was being ridiculous, maybe even crazy, but I ignored it. I needed this.

  I got home from work earlier than Eric that night, and decided the best thing to do would be to seduce my husband. It had been more than a month since we’d last had sex, the longest dry spell we’d ever had. I knew he was trying to respect me and the trauma I was going through, but I’d had enough of that. How could I get pregnant again if he wouldn’t touch me? No, we definitely had to put an end to it. I would talk to Eric about the baby tonight, and hopefully he’d be willing to give it a try.

  I made dinner, strip steaks and potatoes, Eric’s favorite meal. While the steaks marinated, I got myself ready. I went all out—big hair, shaved legs, makeup, and perfume. I finished my look off with a little red dress that I knew Eric loved on me. When I was ready, I headed back to the kitchen to put the steaks in the broiler and set the table, turning on the radio to some mood music.

  “Wow,” Eric said. I spun around and saw him standing in the doorway to the dining room. I must not have heard him come in over the noise from the radio. “You look amazing,” he said, staring at me. “What’s the occasion?”

  I looked down shyly, feeling a blush creep up to my cheeks. I had never been very good at this. Everything with me and Eric was usually so… natural.

  You can do this, Kiki, I told myself. I looked up at him and smiled. “I just wanted to do something nice for you,” I said. “I miss you.”

  His face visibly softened. “I’ve missed you too, Kiks,” he said.

  Suddenly, I was rushing forward, Eric enfolding me in his arms. It had been so long since we’d shared a moment free from sadness. “I’m sorry,” I whispered against his chest. “I know it’s taking me a long time to get over it—”

  “Don’t apologize,” he said. “I’m right there with you, babe.”

  “Yeah?” I looked up at him, smiling.

  “Of course,” he said, his face still serious. “It was a terrible loss, Kiki. Don’t let anything make you feel like you need to get over it right away, okay?”

  I nodded, feeling a lump in my throat.

  “Let’s just have a nice night,” he said, finally smiling. “It smells great in here. And you really do look beautiful.”

  I poured Eric a glass of wine and he helped me to finish up dinner. As we sat down to eat, I thought about what I needed to do to convince him that we were ready to be intimate again. Surely, I was off to a good start. He was in an obvious good mood.

  We avoided any stressful or negative topics while we ate. No mention was made of Jen or Matt, no work talk passed our lips. Instead, we discussed an old favorite topic—the epic sailing trip we would one day take.

  “Maybe we shouldn’t do the East Coast after all,” Eric said, sipping his wine. “We could do the Great Lakes, instead. We could go all the way around to Chicago, just you and me, out on our little boat. What do you think?”

  “The Great Lakes wouldn’t give us palm trees though,” I pointed out. “I thought half the point was that we would see new places and end up in Florida. Tropical breezes and palm trees as far as the eye can see.”

  Eric grinned at me. “Good point. Well, what if we said goodbye to the states completely? We could rent a boat in Florida and make our way to the Bahamas. We could island-hop, Kiki.”

  “Oooh,” I whispered, intrigued.

  Once we had finished our meal, I started to clean up the dishes, but Eric stopped me.

  “Leave them,” he said. “Come sit with me.”

  I happily perched myself on his lap, my favorite place to sit. He wrapped his arms around me and talked of the Bahamas, painting a beautiful picture of what we could see and do there.

  “I’m sold,” I told him, resting my head on his chest. “I think we have a winner.”

  “Maybe we could do that this summer,” he said, pulling back a little to look me in the eye. “It might be really good for us, to get away and just be on our own, you know?”

  I frowned. I had every intention of being pregnant this summer, not out on a boat with Eric in the middle of the Caribbean. Because I wasn’t sure how to respond, I kissed him lightly instead.

  “Mmm,” he murmured against my mouth, pulling me closer. “I really have missed you.”

  “I’ve missed you too, Eric,” I said, looking him straight in the face, hoping my meaning was clear.

  “Have you?” His voice was hoarse. “Do you… Do you think you’re ready?”

  I nodded. “I know I am.”

  He looked conflicted. “Kiks, I know how hard this has been for you. I don’t want to push you or rush you—”

  I silenced him with a kiss. “Please, Eric,” I whispered.

  In one swift motion he had picked me up in his arms and was carrying me into the bedroom. I could feel my heart beating fast, really fast. All thoughts of a baby had slipped from my mind, replaced completely with Eric. It was like I hadn’t realized how much I had missed being close to him until now. Love and desire were crashing over me, overwhelming me.

  No sooner had we reached the bedroom than Eric’s cell phone rang loudly in his pocket. Never one to be delayed at this point in the game, I assumed Eric would ignore it, and was thus very surprised when he swore loudly instead.

  “Sorry, Kiki,” he said, setting my feet on the carpet. He looked at me, his eyes dark. “You have no idea how sorry. But I have to t
ake this.”

  “You do? Now?”

  Eric laughed at my incredulous expression. The phone stopped ringing. “It will be fast, I promise. I was supposed to call the office with some numbers when I got home. Stuff I left on my computer here. They’re waiting on me.” He winked at me. “For some reason the call completely slipped my mind as soon as I entered this condo and saw my beautiful wife.”

  I smiled at him, appeased. “Fine. But you better hurry.”

  “I will,” he promised, pulling out his phone. He wiggled his eyebrows at me. “Why don’t you get more comfortable?”

  I laughed as he walked out. “Miller?” I heard him say. “Sorry, man, I got delayed. The stuff’s on my desktop; let me just get to the office here…”

  His voice faded away and I flopped back on the bed, feeling happier than I had in a long time. I decided I would change into a nightie. That blue one, I thought to myself. Eric likes that one.

  Five minutes later I was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. I had brushed my teeth, fixed my makeup, and changed. Now all I needed was my husband.

  “Kiki, what is all this stuff?”

  I looked up and saw Eric standing in the doorway to the bedroom. He was holding a stack of papers in his hands.

  “What?” I asked, way too far away to make out what he had.

  “Are these yours?” He wasn’t looking at me, he was staring down at the papers with an incredulous expression on his face. “One hundred and one ways to increase fertility? What to Eat When You’re Ready to be Expecting?”

  He looked up at me, his face hard. “Are these yours?”

  “Yes,” I said, feeling guilty for some reason. What had I done wrong? I must have left my research in the office, but I didn’t see why Eric should seem so bothered by it.

  “Do you want to get pregnant again?”

  “I’ve been thinking about it,” I said, my voice small. Eric glared at me and it struck me that he was really mad.