Kimberly, in a Diane von Furstenberg wrap dress so tight I could see her belly button, came out from around the corner to refill my half-full champagne glass and, looking at Jill, the mother to be, said, “Oh, isn’t she just glowing?” Her mouth smiled, but her eyes looked as if another woman had just stolen the last size 6 Brian Atwood pump from the Barneys shoe department sale.
I smiled. “You know, she really does. She’s so tiny.”
“So,” Kimberly said, pushing the bra-strap-length platinum hair out of her face, “are you and Ben planning on having kids anytime soon?”
I shrugged, a gesture that revealed nothing, but obviously insinuated to Kimberly that we weren’t planning on it.
The light returned to Kimberly’s green, heavily lined eyes as she said, “Oh my gosh, me neither.” Then she added, “Hey, we should get together sometime, you know, for coffee.” She winked at me. “Or cocktails.”
Before we could set a firm date or time, Jill’s mom appeared at Kimberly’s side and asked, “Do you think Jill could have some water?”
“With all of this delicious wine around, why would anyone want water?”
Jill’s mom laughed, but I think Kimberly was only partly kidding. She was by far the most spoiled of the group with the least home training and as infertile as concrete, as I later learned. But she was looking for a new friend and so was I. She was feeling me out to see if I was worth investing her time and energy in, to see if I had a few good years left in me before I too would abandon her for life with baby. That had given me a little lift.
I spotted Mrs. Taylor out of the corner of my eye and raised the champagne glass to my face to hide my, “Oh, good Lord, no,” to Emily.
But we had been spotted. As Mrs. Taylor, cane and limp firmly in tow, lumbered over, Emily said, “Love you, shug, but you’re on your own,” before whirling in the other direction and waving toward basically anyone else in the room.
“Mrs. Taylor, you’re looking well,” I lied. In reality, she was shoved into the largest size of St. John knit suit like a sausage into a casing, breathing heavily from the mere effort of walking across the room.
“Oh, Annabelle,” she said. “I do absolutely adore that dress.” She set her empty champagne glass on the perfectly coordinated and labeled cheese table, where it stuck out like a piece of licorice in the sugar jar. “Wherever did Ben find you?”
I didn’t respond because, though I couldn’t quite identify why yet, I felt like she was lining the trap with peanut butter, waiting for me to walk right in and take a bite.
But nothing could have prepared me for what she said next. “You know we all just always thought he would marry Laura Anne.”
I hope I didn’t look as stunned as I felt. I felt that familiar nausea return to the surface. I wanted to walk away, but I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of having caught me off guard. So I said, smiling politely, “Well, every past girlfriend made him the amazing man he is today.”
She opened her mouth to continue, but I put my finger up, saying, “Excuse me, I need to make sure I remembered to put the card with my gift.”
I felt my breath catch in my throat and, looking around at the smiling, straight-haired girls all around me, realized that I didn’t have a single real friend in the group. Any of them would have asked me about my weekend or what Ben and I were doing for Labor Day. But I couldn’t whisper to any of them about my encounter with Mrs. Taylor. Not one person in that room would laugh with me and say, “Oh, who cares about that anyway?” And now I knew why. They weren’t my friends. They were Laura Anne’s friends. And those two things, totally unbeknownst to me, were as at odds as detoxing and McDonald’s.
I went to stand around Jill and watch the gift opening. I tried to catch Emily’s eye, but she was bubbling over like the champagne in her glass about something or another to a friend on the couch. I tried to look interested in every pink baby blanket and monogrammed onesie, but the reality that my husband hadn’t told me about an ex who was as prominent in town as Cheerwine billboards was nagging me too much to enjoy myself.
I snuck out the door, knowing that I wouldn’t be missed, sensing Kimberly’s irritation from across the room that someone had thwarted her plans. Gift opening wasn’t a part of this non-baby baby shower agenda. I texted Emily, Had to jet, and took off the pumps that were sticking into the damp earth of the golf course. It couldn’t have been more than a half-mile walk home, but, instead of giving me time to cool off, it only gave me time to become increasingly agitated. How could he not have told me? How could he let me walk around this town thinking I was the only woman who had ever been a dot on the radar screen when everyone was saying behind my back that he should have married Laura Anne?
So I did what I always did. I picked up the phone.
“You are so old and so boring that I don’t possibly want to listen to anything you have to say,” Cameron said.
I smiled. “I just found out that my husband dated this girl that I’m always hearing about, and he didn’t even tell me. Can you believe that?”
Cameron laughed. “Of course I can believe that. Look at him, for God’s sake, Ann. He’s gorgeous. I’m sure he’s dated everyone.”
“Yeah. But this bitchy woman from town said everyone always thought they’d get married.”
“Who gives a shit, Annabelle. He didn’t marry her. He married you.”
I paused for a second, feeling nauseous again, realizing that, between work, Holden texting me every five minutes, now this Laura Anne thing, and not being able to get pregnant, my emotions were getting the best of me—and my stomach lining.
I sighed. “Fine. You’re right. I mean, I know you are.” I kept walking, wondering if the damp golf course grass was getting chemicals in my bloodstream.
“Does he know about every little fling you’ve ever had?”
I sighed again. “No, Cameron. He doesn’t know about every little fling I’ve ever had. Okay?”
“Well, then count your blessings that you were the one to finally tame that hunky, sickeningly sweet man and cut him some slack.”
“I hate you. I hate it when you’re right. And I need you to come visit immediately.”
“No way. Too boring.”
And with that, Cameron was gone. Some people would probably be offended, but Cameron was Cameron. You loved her or you hated her. And she couldn’t care less either way. I smiled, thinking back to our conversation right after I broke the news to her that Ben and I had eloped.
“I would like to be sorry,” I said, when she called seconds after receiving my text, “but I think we’re good enough friends that you can appreciate my overwhelming bliss.”
Cameron sighed. “I’m not that mad about Ben, but the fact that you didn’t let me be your maid of honor is totally unforgivable.”
I smiled and could picture a ten-year-old Cameron, blunt pixie cut, baggy jean shorts and 2 percent body fat, saying, “Gag. Who would ever want to have to wear one of those horrible dresses and be in a wedding? Don’t you dare ever ask me, because I will say no.”
I had reminded her of that moment outside our fifth-grade lockers, and she said, “I thought that was the beauty of best friends. I thought you knew when ‘no’ means ‘yes.’”
I had laughed at my friend and said, “When we have a big party to celebrate later on, I’ll have a special corsage made for you to wear around the party, and the favors will have a little card inside saying that you’re the maid of honor.”
“Ugh, I don’t want to have to wear some stupid flowers.”
That meant she was thrilled. Ben had wrapped his arms around me from behind and kissed my neck. I giggled, and he said, “I just finished a new song for you that I want you to hear.”
“How is it possible that you stole my life?” Cameron had said. “I mean, honestly, I am never taking you out ever again.”
“
Well, the good news is that I’m married, so every other man now belongs to you.”
“Yup,” Ben said in my ear. “You’re mine all mine until the day I die.”
“I think someone else already wrote that line, sweetheart,” I said, kissing him.
“Gross,” Cameron said. “I need to go now. I have to go wedding dress shopping so that I can wear a big white dress to your party and steal your day like you stole my man.”
“Knock yourself out,” I said. “You’ll make it about ten minutes in that crinoline.”
Cameron sighed deeply like she’d been defeated. “You’re right. I’ll never survive.”
“I love you, sister I never had.”
She had sighed. “Fine. I love you too. But you owe me some serious nights out as payment for this life-altering slight.”
It occurred to me, walking through the golf course that day, remembering that call with Cameron, that I could use a serious night out too. Before I could get through the front door of what had been a sex-filled love nest when I left and was now a frigid den of lies, “Why on earth didn’t you tell me about you and Laura Anne?” was cascading out of my mouth in a tone that matched my crossed arms. I knew deep down that Cameron was right. He married me. So why did anyone else matter? But, probably because I had spent the day at a baby shower, I was sad and frustrated, and I needed to take it out on someone.
“Did Laura Anne tell you that?” Ben asked.
“No,” I said, pouring myself dramatically onto the couch. “That bitch Mrs. Taylor told me. And then I looked around the room and finally realized why I—me, the person who has always had a million friends in every corner—have yet to get close to one single person in this entire town.”
Ben sat down beside me on the couch and said, “Oh, TL, everyone in town knows that Mrs. Taylor is just a bitter old gossip. The only reason she would have said that is to get a rise out of you.” He squeezed my knee supportively. “And now you’re giving her just what she wants by letting her.”
He pulled me up, even though I was still limp as a week-old vase flower, and pulled me in close. He kissed my head and said, “You have plenty of friends here. It just hasn’t been long enough for you to get that close to any of them yet.”
I nodded and leaned my head on his shoulder. “I just don’t feel that initial ‘click’ with anyone, you know?”
“Oh, yeah. I know,” he said, raising his eyebrows suggestively. “I know all about what that click feels like.”
I wanted to give in to his dimples and sweet humor, but something inside me couldn’t let him off the hook that easily. “Why didn’t you tell me y’all dated?”
He shrugged. “It never came up, and it didn’t matter anyway. We said we weren’t going to talk about exes.”
“That’s technically true,” I said. “But, when Holden gave you a black eye, I didn’t say, ‘Oh, yeah, he’s just some annoying guy I went to college with.”
Ben rubbed my leg. “But, babe. Come on. Laura Anne didn’t punch you out by the pool.”
I rolled my eyes. “No, you’re right. She didn’t. In fact, I’ve yet to meet her. I’m not even sure she exists.”
Ben’s expression changed to that one I couldn’t resist. It was that look that reminded me, no matter what the circumstances, that he worshipped the ground I walked on. “TL, I fell for you so hard and so fast I haven’t taken a breath to look back. Why talk about the past when the present is everything you’ve ever dreamed of?”
I rolled my eyes, but I could feel myself softening. He kissed me and said, “I wasn’t expecting you home for at least another hour, so I’m only about halfway through Die Hard.” Then he winked. “But I could be persuaded to pause it for later.”
I willed that prickle of heat up my spine to go away, not quite ready to make up this soon. “Ugh,” I said. “I’m going to take a bath.”
I walked down the pristine white runner in the hallway, glancing over at the sunset blanketing the pool, tucking in our little corner of town for the night. I could feel my anger beginning to dissipate when the phone I was still holding in my hand rang. And I was mad all over again.
“Oh, hi, Mrs. Taylor,” I said, as though she hadn’t totally shaken my world an hour earlier.
“Annabelle, darling, I wanted to talk to you about the Spring Fling, but you ran out before I got the chance.”
I could feel my eyes rolling toward heaven. Maybe I was asking God to help save me from this woman. I was supposed to “just pick the art” for this party, yet, somehow, I had managed to get so many jobs that the title of “chair” was affixed to my forehead with superglue, though no one ever actually asked. In my head, I screamed: Leave me the hell alone. I can handle one damn fund-raiser.
But, instead, I said, “I’m so sorry I had to rush out. Ben wanted me to come home. You know how it is with newlyweds, hard to be apart for even a second!” It was a lie, but I hoped it emphasized to her that we were such a perfect couple that all of what he and Laura Anne had was totally eclipsed by a single night at home.
She laughed in that haughty way. “Well, I just wanted to let you know that I’m sure the gala has gotten to be a lot more than you bargained for—”
It had gotten to be a lot more than I had bargained for between soliciting corporate donations, getting auction items, negotiating with the band, the food, the flowers, the bar, the artists . . . But I would never, ever have acted like I couldn’t handle it, so I said, “Oh, no. Not at all. I’m thrilled to do my part.”
“Well, what I was saying is that it has been so much work for one person that the committee and I decided to get you a co-chair.”
I actually felt sort of relieved. “Oh, great! Who did you have in mind?”
“Only the best party planner in town, sweetheart.”
I could feel the lump growing in my throat, and that nausea rising again, this time coupled with a lump that meant I was in serious danger of crying. I knew who the best party planner in town was without even asking. But I thrust myself onto the sword anyway. “Oh, who is that?”
“Why, Laura Anne, of course.”
Lovey
The Exact Man
July 1951
A girl’s wedding day should be one of the most special of her life. But I didn’t have any grand visions of my wedding day, no matter what Momma said. I wasn’t expecting a cathedral full of socialites and out-of-season stems like Consuelo Vanderbilt. I didn’t anticipate an orchestra or five-star food.
All I wanted was a beautiful day, in my mother’s lace wedding gown, in the church that I had attended my entire life. Afterward, a little champagne punch and showing off my new wedding band to my closest friends would do.
Katie Jo, sitting on my pink bedspread, looked at my engagement ring hesitantly, as though I was wearing a live snake that may jump off and bite her. She sighed. “I can’t say that I’m particularly excited that you’re getting married. But I am particularly excited you’re not marrying Ernest Wake.”
I nodded in agreement.
“Would you have really done it, you think? At the end of the day, could you have made yourself?”
I shrugged. “I’m not getting any younger, and I want kids, so I might could have if I had known for sure that Dan wasn’t coming back.” I felt a shudder run down my spine. “Although the idea of having to make a baby with him is like drinking snuff spit.”
We both laughed.
“So what’s it like?” I asked.
“What’s what like?”
“Sex, of course,” I whispered, though we were the only two in the house. I could feel my cheeks turning pink at the mere mention.
Katie Jo stopped and smiled. “Well, I guess it depends. If you just aren’t so nervous, then it’s wonderful.”
“Are you ever nervous, Katie Jo?”
She laughed. “Oh, no, darling. I think I was bo
rn without the ability to be nervous.” She winked. “Which is why it’s always so wonderful for me.”
I thought of Dan, that familiar heat, that pain of desire rising through me. I had waited my whole life to give myself to a man. And I just knew that he would be worth waiting for.
“Are you still waiting until you’re married?” Katie Jo asked. “I mean, I’m not ever getting married, so I couldn’t possibly have waited, but you’ve almost made it.”
I grinned at her. “I don’t think I can wait.”
She gasped and hugged me. “You have to tell me every detail!”
“Ew, Katie Jo.”
“Honey, that’s what best friends are for.”
And I was so grateful for a best friend because, only a few hours later, after telling my family about the engagement, I certainly wasn’t grateful for them anymore.
“Lynn, let’s just go back and talk this whole thing out,” Dan called from behind me as I stomped down the dirt driveway to nowhere in particular.
I crossed my arms, planted my feet in the dust and spun around. “I’m not talking to anyone. If they don’t want to be a part of our wedding, then they won’t be a part of our marriage either.”
“Sweetheart,” Dan said, finally catching me in a hug.
As I leaned into him, I thought of how nice it was to feel the strength of those gun-carrying arms around me. I inhaled his aftershave, imagining the shape of the bare torso underneath that starched white shirt.
“You know they have to be stunned. They were expecting you to come home and be engaged to this other man. Imagine how they must feel.”
I put my arms around his neck and kissed him again, this time more passionately.
Lies and Other Acts of Love Page 15