She, Myself & I

by Whitney Gaskell

  “Kevin saw you with Sarah. Having sex with her. On the kitchen counter,” I said flatly, and pushed his hands down away from my bra, away from me.

  “He’s lying.”

  “No. He’s not.”

  Oliver watched me for a minute, gauging my reaction. I stared back at him levelly, and finally he shrugged and smiled.

  “Okay. Fine. Yes, I slept with Sarah. Just the one time, and it really didn’t mean anything. She was just there and . . . available,” he said carelessly, and it felt as though the breath had been sucked out of me. I realized then that I’d wanted him to deny it, wanted him to convince me that it was all a mistake—Sarah, his wife—and that what he wanted was me.

  “Available,” I repeated. “And is that what I was, too? Available?”

  “What do you want me to say? Come on, Mickey, I think it was pretty clear from the beginning that our relationship is largely physical,” he said.

  My mouth was dry, and the lights in the office seemed overly bright, starkly boring down into me. But he was right. It had been clear, I’d just been intent on not seeing it.

  “I should go,” I said abruptly, and I turned to leave, but Oliver reached out and grabbed onto my wrist.

  I probably should have fought him, but, perversely, I wanted to see what he’d do, so I let him draw me close to him, pulling me up against him, trying to mold my body against his.

  “Come on, this doesn’t have to end. We’re good together,” Oliver said.

  I could feel his erection pressing against me, and I stepped back.

  “No, we’re not, and yes, it does. Good-bye, Oliver,” I said.

  He didn’t say anything, and I didn’t look back. I just swung open the door and walked out. Sarah was standing there, hovering just outside the door. Dark circles highlighted her eyes, and her mouth was tight and drawn in. When she saw me, she visibly winced and then drew her arms around herself, as if protecting herself from me.

  I shook my head at her. “He’s not worth it,” I said softly.

  “Yes he is,” she whispered back, and her eyes moved past me, into the office behind me.

  Only then did I look back. Oliver was focusing his smile on Sarah with the same measured charm he’d directed at me, easily substituting in Girl Number Two. And even as it creeped me out, I was glad I saw it. Because as Sarah lit up, her sallow face pretty again, and she stepped around me, moving to Oliver, I was completely free.

  Chapter Forty-four

  “Do I look fat?” Paige asked. She turned to the right and then to the left, examining herself in Mom’s full-length cheval mirror. Sophie lifted her camera and snapped the shutter, catching Paige’s pregnant reflection in the picture.

  “Hey!” Paige said. “Don’t do that. I was making a silly face.”

  “You look adorable,” Sophie assured her. “And no, not at all fat. Good job on the dresses, Mickey.”

  “Thanks, I thought they’d be perfect,” I said, feeling very pleased with myself. Our matching strapless navy blue cotton poplin dresses had fitted bodices and A-line skirts that fell just above the knees. I’d found Sophie’s and mine at Banana Republic, and then enlisted the aid of a seamstress to make a maternity version of the dress for Paige.

  I nudged Paige to the side and examined my own reflection. My mom’s stylist had arrived at the house that morning, and after turning Mom’s head into an adorable mess of curls, he gave the rest of us casually elegant loose topknots. I touched my hair gently, marveling at how fake and sticky it felt.

  “You’re going to mess it up if you keep playing with it,” Paige said.

  I stuck my tongue out at her. “What time is the ceremony starting? And where did Mom go?”

  “It’s starting soon, like in about fifteen minutes. And I don’t know where Mom went—I think she’s downstairs, greeting guests,” Sophie said. She snapped another few pictures of us: me patting my hair, Paige slicking on lipstick.

  “Sophie, so help me God, stop taking pictures of me when I’m not ready,” Paige warned.

  “The candid ones are always the best,” Sophie insisted.

  “I’ll go get Mom,” I said, and slipped out of the master bedroom and padded barefoot down the hallway. I stood at the top of the stairs, peering down to see if I could catch a glimpse of ivory silk among the crowd of wedding guests milling around the house, and feeling shy about going downstairs in my bridesmaid getup.

  As I stood there, shifting from foot to foot, trying to decide what to do, I saw Zack standing at the bottom of the stairs. He was slightly hunched over, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his pants. A small torn piece of toilet paper was still stuck to his jaw, covering a shaving nick.

  “Zack!” I called softly. He didn’t respond, so I grabbed a paperback novel off the table by the stairs and tossed it down at him. It bonked him on the head, and he startled and looked up. I waved.

  “Ow!”

  “Oops, sorry, I didn’t meant to throw it that hard,” I said. “Can you see my mom around there?”

  “I don’t see her. Do you know where Paige is?”

  I hesitated and then nodded. “Up here.”

  Zack bounded up the stairs. “Just so you know, I’m not crashing. Sophie invited me,” he said, looking sheepish.

  “I think it’s great that you’re here. And . . . I think Paige will be happy to see you,” I said.

  His face brightened. “Really? Because I’ve been going out of my mind, I miss her so much.”

  “She’s been really upset, too,” I said, not feeling at all badly that I was breaking Paige’s confidence. I was doing it for her own good. “Here, come with me.”

  I grabbed his hand and led him down the hallway. The door to my mom’s bedroom was half open, as I’d left it, and I rapped my knuckles on the door. “Is everyone decent in there?” I asked.

  “Of course we are. What, do you think we stripped off our clothes in the two minutes since you’ve left?” Paige replied.

  I rolled my eyes at Zack and then pushed the door all the way open.

  “Paige, you have a visitor,” I said, leaning against the doorjamb so Zack could pass by me into the room.

  Paige looked up, and her eyes widened and her mouth formed an O.

  “Hi,” Zack said.

  “Hi,” Paige replied softly. She’d gone very still, and with the afternoon light that filtered through the old-fashioned lace curtains backlighting her, I thought she’d never looked lovelier.

  “Hi, Zack,” Sophie said, grinning. “Mick, what do you say you and I go downstairs and track down the bride.”

  I followed Sophie halfway down the stairs before I realized that I was still barefoot.

  “Crap. I left my shoes up there,” I said.

  “Good, that’ll give you a reason to go find out what’s going on with those two,” Sophie said.

  I climbed the stairs again, walked down the hall, and knocked softly on the door before pushing it open. Zack was holding Paige close against him, and her head was turned and resting on his shoulder.

  “Um, sorry . . . I just forgot my shoes,” I said, bending down and retrieving the strappy sandals from just inside the door.

  Paige turned and looked over her shoulder at me, and she had a soft, dreamy expression on her face. “I’ll be down in a few minutes,” she said.

  “Take your time,” I replied, and then retreated.

  Sophie was waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs. Aidan was with her, holding Ben, who looked handsome in a blue poplin Ralph Lauren romper that almost exactly matched the oxford shirt his daddy was wearing. Aidan had his free hand tucked around Sophie’s waist, and she was leaning against him.

  “So, what’s happening up there?” Sophie asked, her face bright.

  “I think all is well. They were hugging. And Paige looked . . . peaceful,” I said.

  “Yes!” Sophie said, pumping her arm.

  “I’m going to be the only one here without a date, aren’t I?” I said glumly.

 
“You can be Ben’s date,” Aidan offered.

  “Gee, thanks,” I said.

  “Don’t worry, I have you taken care of, too,” Sophie said.

  “What did you do?” I asked.

  “Vinay! Over here,” Sophie called out, waving her hand.

  I turned to see who she was looking at, and saw a tall man wearing a khaki poplin suit over a crisp white shirt, open at the neck, walking toward us.

  “Is that . . . ,” I started to say, and then stopped, glancing at Aidan.

  “Hi,” Vinay said. A caterer holding a tray of mini crab cakes high over his head passed by us, and Vinay stepped closer to me to get out of his way. His sleeve brushed against my bare arm, and I could just barely discern the spicy scent of his aftershave.

  “Vinay, this is my husband, Aidan. And you know Ben, of course. And this,” Sophie said, with a game show hostess’s flourish, “is my sister Mickey.”

  “Mickey,” Vinay said, smiling. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Sophie’s been telling me all about you.”

  I stared up at him, trying to think of something to say. He was absurdly good-looking with liquid dark eyes that seemed to convey so much about him. Kindness. Wisdom. Strength.

  “Mickey,” Sophie said, nudging me, and only then did I realize how wildly inappropriate I was being just standing there mute.

  “Um, hi, very nice to meet you,” I said, blushing.

  “Hey, there’s Mom. I’m going to go get her. Aidan, you come with me, and Mickey, you stay here,” Sophie announced, and my skin burned even hotter. Could she be any more obvious?

  “Right then. Something tells me she meant to leave us alone together,” he said, once Sophie had bustled off.

  “I’m so sorry, she’s so bossy. Do you have any sisters?”

  “One, older than me. Hideous, of course.”

  “Then you understand.”

  “All too well. Sophie tells me you just graduated from college,” he said.

  “A few months ago.”

  “Are you getting sick of everyone asking what your future plans are?”

  “Oh my God, yes. I can’t even tell you,” I said.

  “I took a year off after university, before I went to medical school, and every time my parents’ mates were around they’d grill me on when I was going to school, and where, and when was I going to get married,” Vinay said. “It got to the point that I’d pop round to the pub whenever anyone was coming over.”

  “But at least you knew where you were going. I was supposed to go to Brown med school this fall, and then decided not to. Now everyone just acts like I’m one of those kids who moves home after college, lying around on the couch all day and mooching off their parents,” I said.

  “You’re planning to stay in Austin?”

  I shrugged. “For the foreseeable near future. I’m thinking about going to culinary school next year, but . . . I’m still working out the details.”

  “That’s good,” Vinay said.

  “Well, I haven’t gotten in anywhere yet.”

  “No, I meant I’m glad you’re staying in Austin,” he said lightly.

  I looked down at my arms. I actually had goose bumps. Not even Oliver had done that to me.

  “You’re not married, are you?” I asked.

  Vinay looked startled. “Um. No. Not yet,” he said, shaking his head.

  “No fiancée? Girlfriend in another town?”

  “No and no.”

  “Good,” I said.

  “I have a feeling there’s a story underneath those questions,” Vinay said.

  “Not a very interesting one,” I replied, and when we grinned at one another, I could feel the possibility shimmering between us.

  “Mickey, where’s Sophie? And Mom?”

  I turned around, and Paige was standing behind us, holding tightly on to Zack’s hand. They were both grinning, and her updo had shifted wonkily off center.

  “I don’t know. Sophie went off to find Mom, but now she’s missing, too.”

  “No I’m not. Here we are,” Sophie said, cutting through the crowd, Mom in tow. “She keeps trying to get away from me.”

  “Sophie, stop pulling me. I have to go greet the Johnsons. And Mary Beth is here, I have to say hello to her,” Mom said, waving to a friend across the room.

  She looked beautiful. The short nipped-in jacket and fitted dress showed off her slim figure, and the happiness shining in her face made her look decades younger than her sixty-three years.

  “No way. We’re already running late. Aidan’s asking people to move outside, and once everyone’s out there, sitting down, the ceremony is going to begin,” Sophie said firmly. “I had to practically pry her and Daddy apart.”

  “Isn’t it supposed to be bad luck for Daddy to see you?” I asked her.

  “It’s too late for that,” Mom said.

  “I guess I should probably go outside,” Vinay said. He smiled at me, and the stomach flutters started up again.

  “Have we met?” Mom asked him.

  “No, I don’t believe we have. I’m Vinay Prasad,” he said, holding out his hand to Mom.

  “He’s Ben’s pediatrician,” Sophie explained.

  “How nice of you to come. Thank you for joining us,” Mom said so giddily, I wondered if she’d been sampling the champagne.

  “Thank you for inviting me,” Vinay said. He slid his hand into mine and pressed it gently. “I’ll see you after the ceremony?”

  I nodded. “I’ll find you,” I said.

  Vinay smiled and moved on, following the throng of people making their way to the backyard. A tent had been set up outside, and the florists had spent the day filling it with candelabras, twinkle lights, and masses of flowers—roses, lilies, hydrangeas. Now that the sun was setting and the candles were lit, it looked magical.

  “He’s gorgeous,” Mom said, nudging me.

  “I should get going, too,” Zack said, although he looked unwilling to leave Paige’s side and she held on tightly to his hand.

  “Let’s tell them,” Paige said.

  Sophie inhaled audibly. “Does that mean what I think it does?” she asked.

  Paige looked up at Zack. “We’re getting married,” she said softly.

  Sophie squealed and grabbed them both in a hug.

  “Oh, Paige,” Mom said, clasping Paige’s hand in her own, and I saw that Mom had tears in her eyes. Yes, she’d definitely gotten into the champagne. It always made her get misty.

  “Congratulations,” I said, throwing my arms around Paige and squeezing her hard.

  Zack leaned over and kissed Paige briefly.

  “I’ll see you after the ceremony,” he said.

  “Bye,” she replied.

  Zack kissed my mom on the cheek, and then turned back to squeeze Paige’s hand one more time before he left.

  “It’s time,” Sophie announced. “Is everyone ready?”

  “Wait,” Mom said.

  “It’s too late to be having second thoughts,” Sophie said.

  “I just wanted to tell you all how much I love you, all of you. And how much it means to me—to your father and me—that you’re here today,” Mom said.

  “Mom, if you start to cry, your mascara is going to run,” Sophie warned.

  “I’m wearing the waterproof kind.”

  “Even so, it’ll make your eyes puffy,” Sophie said, but she leaned forward and hugged our mother carefully. “Careful! I don’t want to get lipstick on your suit.”

  “Come on, Paige, Mickey, give me a hug,” Mom said, and she pulled us all to her, until all four of the Cassel women were standing in a huddle.

  “As long as we’re all here, I have to ask . . . what is Abbey Tyler wearing?” Sophie whispered.

  “I know! That awful suit with the loud floral print?” Paige said.

  “I thought she looked nice. She has a beautiful figure,” Mom said.

  “Without a doubt, she wins the ugliest dress contest,” Sophie said.

  “That is
n’t nice,” Mom said.

  “Well, it’s true.”

  “And when did Mr. Walker start wearing a toupee?” Paige asked.

  “Is that what’s wrong with him? I knew he looked different, I just couldn’t figure out what it was,” I said.

  “I thought he’d gotten plugs,” Sophie said.

  “Girls. Don’t you think that rather than making fun of our guests, this would be a good opportunity to share how much we love one another?” Mom said.

  We all looked blankly at her.

  “That’s not really our thing,” Paige said.

  “Yeah, we don’t do the touchy-feely stuff,” Sophie agreed.

  “Way too weird,” I said.

  “I give up. I love you all. Now I’m going to go marry your father,” Mom said.

  We were laughing as we broke apart and walked down the hallway to the back of the house. The florist had laid our bouquets out on the kitchen table, and we each picked one up—simple nosegays of red roses for the bridesmaids, white for the bride. Sophie ducked out the back door to signal to the musicians, and as the string quartet started to play Pachelbel’s Canon in D, she reappeared.

  “Okay, Paige, I’m going first. And then you, then Mickey, and then Mom. Everyone count to five slowly before you start down the aisle, so we’re all spaced out evenly.”

  “No, wait.”

  We turned to look at our mother. She was shaking her head.

  “I don’t have anyone to give me away,” she said.

  “Do you want me to go get Nana?” I asked.

  “No. I want you girls to walk with me,” Mom said.

  “Are you sure?” Paige asked.

  “But I was going to get in front and then take pictures of you as you came down the aisle,” Sophie protested.

  “I don’t care about that. What I care about is that I have my daughters at my side,” Mom said.

  Sophie opened her mouth to lodge another protest—she’d hidden her camera inside a topiary at the front of the tent—but I shook my head at her.

  “Mom’s right. We should walk with her,” I said.