Thirty-Three Going On Girlfriend (The Spinster Series Book 2)

by Becky Monson

  I hear a car door slam and then seconds later, tires peel out of the parking lot.

  Did I really just break up with Jared? I should feel the slightest bit of closure, like I did the right thing. But I don’t feel like that at all. I feel like my heart is literally broken, and all I want to do right now is curl up in a ball and cry. Forever.

  CHAPTER 23

  The cold water I just splashed on my face does nothing to tone down the large, red blotches that dot my complexion. I look like a clown. Actually, I take that back. A clown looks better than I do right now.

  I’ve been in the bathroom for the past fifteen minutes, trying to talk myself into bucking up and going into the rehearsal dinner without buckling at the knees and falling to the floor in a ridiculous, overly dramatic fashion. I really want to do that. But I must fight my drama instincts and be strong for Anna. I can do this for her. I can’t take away anything from this wedding that she has worked so hard for. I will not make this about me.

  I sniff hard. I open the little hand bag I brought with me and pull out the pressed powder I’d normally have left at home, but since I was running late tonight, I had put makeup on in my dad’s car on the way. That certainly worked out to my benefit. I put powder all over my face. I look a little better, but there is nothing I can do about my red, bloodshot eyes. The restaurant has dim lighting. I’ll just have to hope no one can tell.

  In order to make it through tonight, I’m going to have to avoid thinking about what just transpired outside fifteen minutes ago. I’m going to have to push it out of my mind and make it through this night for Anna. I will not even think the name Jared.

  Crap, I just thought it. And double-crap, there’re the waterworks again. I blot the tears away quickly with a tissue. I can do this. Well, I probably can’t, but I’m going to try my hardest.

  The room that is reserved for Anna’s rehearsal dinner is in the back of the dining room. After taking many deep breaths, I work my way back there, taking the longest way possible to give me even more time to pull it together. It’s definitely dim in the restaurant, but I can see that the lights are brighter in the back room where everyone is gathered, celebrating my sister and her betrothed.

  The room is a nice size with tables put together to make a big square. Everyone is sitting around it enjoying appetizers and drinks. I see a spot by Jenny and Lennon and work my way over to it, trying not to make eye contact with anyone.

  “Where’s Jared?” Anna asks as I take my seat next to Lennon. Just his name makes my eyes immediately well up. I blink back the tears as fast as I can.

  “He had to go home,” I say, trying desperately not to look her in the eyes. “He wasn’t feeling well.” Good cover-up, Julia. Now I can use that same excuse tomorrow when he doesn’t show up and ruins the whole seating chart. I’m still not sure how that all works.

  “Oh, no! I hope he feels better for tomorrow,” she says, of course making Jared’s fake sickness all about her big day. I welcome it, though. I need Anna to be so caught up in the glow of wedding bliss that she won’t notice my Debbie-downer facial expressions, blotchy red face, and the tears threatening to spill at any time. I never thought her spoiled ways would become useful to me.

  The server comes by and against my better judgment (a.k.a., the angel on my shoulder), I have him pour me a glass of the champagne everyone else is drinking. Not a great idea. Alcohol is a depressant after all, and I’m pretty sure I don’t need any more of that. But I need to feel numb if I’m going to make it through this night without completely breaking down. Even with warning signs in my mind flashing “BAD IDEA! BAD IDEA!” I gulp down my first glass without taking a breath and then signal for the server, who hadn’t gotten far away, to give me a refill.

  After the second glass, I’m already starting to feel a little light in the head. I think I can count how many times I’ve drank on one hand. Actually, I can count it on two fingers, so twice. I had a bad experience both times that I’d rather not repeat. But how I’m feeling right now, this numbingly giddy feeling, is just what the doctor ordered. The server comes by again with an open bottle, ready to pour, and I cover my glass signaling for him to not refill mine. I may be starting to feel tipsy, but I’m not going to push it.

  Jonathon stands up from where he’s sitting at the head of the table and raises his glass. Oh yes, words from Jonathon, just what I need.

  “I’d just like to thank everyone for coming tonight,” he says, looking ever-so-smug as his eyes move around the room. “Anna and I wouldn’t want to spend this night with anyone else.”

  “Here, here!” one of the groomsmen cheers and everyone joins in.

  “I’d also like to thank Anna,” Jonathon says after everyone calms down. “She put this all together with very little help from anyone.”

  I snort. Everyone looks at me. I didn’t mean to do it, it just came out. Dang alcohol.

  “I’m sorry, Julia,” Jonathon says. “Did you have something you wanted to say?”

  “Um, no. No, I don’t,” I say, grabbing a shrimp appetizer and shoving it in my mouth. Everyone’s focus goes back to Jonathon.

  “Anyway,” Jonathon goes back to his smug gaze. “I just want to give kudos to Anna for all of her hard work.”

  I snort again. I swear it was unintentional, mostly. All eyes are back on me.

  “I’m sorry, Julia,” Jonathon says once again, “do you have a problem?”

  “No, I don’t,” I say. But inside me something is rumbling like I’ve never felt before, and it’s not indigestion. It’s anger . . . mixed with champagne. So, anger champagne. “Actually, yes. I do have something to say.”

  “Julia,” my mother says from the other side of the large table.

  “It’s fine, Katherine. Let her talk.” Jonathon waves a hand at my mom, keeping his eyes on me the entire time. Meanwhile, Anna isn’t saying anything. She’s just sitting there looking dumbfounded. That seems to be the general look around the table.

  “Okay, fine. I guess we’re doing this,” I say half under my breath. “I was just thinking that here we are, celebrating this wedding for you and Anna, and you get to be all calm and just show up while Anna has been running around doing everything.” I spit out the word “everything” as harshly as I can. “She almost fainted tonight. She needed help.”

  “Enough, Julia.” Anna finally pipes in in squeaky tones. She gets squeaky when she’s angry.

  “No, Anna. This needs to be said,” I say, standing up from my chair.

  Whoa, apparently heartbreak plus champagne equals an angry Julia. But I feel something different than just anger, more like kick-butt. I could totally kick somebody’s rear right now.

  “You think you can just waltz in here and marry my sister when she has been doing all of the work and you have done nothing? Not one person in your family has lifted a finger for this wedding. Wait,” I pause dramatically. “I take that back. Your mother,” I point at his mom who’s sitting to the left of Jonathon, looking quite shell-shocked. “She wrote a check for this dinner. Oh, and the flowers. So I guess a finger was barely lifted.”

  “That’s enough, Julia,” my mom says, angrily. “This isn’t the place or time.”

  She’s right. I do realize that. Even in my champagne/heartbroken stupor, I know this is neither the time nor the place. But even knowing that, I can’t help myself.

  “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Jonathon says, glancing back and forth between Anna and me.

  “I don’t? Well then what’s your rebuttal, Mr. Big-time Lawyer?”

  “JULIA!” a bunch of people yell at once. I’m not even sure who all yelled my name.

  “Anna didn’t need my help,” Jonathon begins his rebuttal. “I offered, believe me. I offered so many times. But she would just tell me she had it all handled.” He furrows his brow, confused. “Anna?” He looks to his bride-to-be.

  “I . . . I didn’t want to bother you.” She shrugs, trying to feign innocence. “I knew you were busy with
work.”

  “But you turned my mom down when she repeatedly offered to help.” He gestures toward his mom. “She doesn’t even work. She would have loved to help.” Jonathon’s face starts to turn a crimson shade.

  The tension in the room is palpable. I don’t know if anyone is even breathing at this point.

  “You said you had it handled,” Jonathon says almost timidly.

  “Jonathon,” Anna stands up. “I did have it handled.” She motions with her hands around the room that she set up, that she ordered all of the food and drinks for. “I got everything done in time.”

  “But,” he says, a confused expression on his face, as if he’s going over previous conversations they had had in his mind, “you did it all by yourself, even when I offered to help. Even when I said I wanted to . . .” He trails off, searching the room with his eyes. Then Jonathon’s eyes widen, as if a light bulb has gone on in his head, like he’s come to some huge realization. “Excuse me,” he says as he hurriedly walks out the door.

  The silence in the room is deafening. What have I done?

  “You.” Anna points at me, speaking in mostly psycho tones. “You, with your big mouth. What the hell is wrong with you, Julia?” She throws the napkin that she had been holding onto the table and storms out of the room after Jonathon.

  We all sit in silence, each of us taking in what just happened. After what feels like the fiftieth glance in my direction, I gaze down at my hands in my lap, the fire in my face burning to the tips of my ears. What have I done? I’m such an idiot.

  “Julia,” my mom finally says, and I look up. “Go fix this. Now.”

  I know that tone. It’s the tone we would get as children when my mom had gotten to her breaking point and wanted something done without further question. Further questioning only led to bad things.

  I stand up from my chair and do a whole new walk of shame that I’ve never done, out the door of the rehearsal dinner that I pretty much ruined, and off to try and fix something I have no idea how I can fix.

  I’ve really messed things up this time.

  CHAPTER 24

  I walk out of the dining room and into the lobby, keeping my eyes peeled for Anna and Jonathon, but they are nowhere to be found.

  I walk outside into the night air and spy them standing at the exact same spot where I just ended things with Jared. Seriously, karma? There’s like a hundred other places they could have gone.

  “Anna, I don’t know if I can trust you now,” I hear Jonathon say as I get closer to them.

  “Jonathon, please. Please, just listen to me,” Anna pleads, which is a tone from Anna I’m pretty sure I’ve never heard.

  “Um, hey guys,” I say weirdly. This is one of those situations where no intro is really appropriate. Variations like “What are you two up to?” or “What’s going on over here?” just seem inappropriate. “Hey guys” ranked up there too, but I was going off the cuff. There wasn’t a lot of time to think of an intro.

  “What are you doing here, Julia?” Anna practically spits my name, total hatred filling her voice. “Get out of here. You’ve done enough.”

  “I’m really sorry, I had no idea—”

  “You had no idea that you would ruin my wedding?” she says, walking toward me.

  I crouch back. I’m pretty sure she wants to slap me. I don’t blame her. I’d probably want to slap me.

  “The wedding’s not ruined,” I say, trying to calm her down.

  “It’s not?” She’s sounding shrill at this point. “Well, then tell Jonathon that. He’s just called off the whole thing.”

  With that, she makes a rather loud wailing sound. She buries her face into her hands and quickly walks away.

  Jonathon folds his arms and looks out into the parking lot in a very leave-me-alone stance.

  I ignore it, of course. “Why did you call it off?” I walk closer to him. He braces himself as if I’m about to slap him. I wasn’t going to, but the thought sounds a bit appealing now that I’ve had it.

  “Because. I can’t trust her,” Jonathon says simply.

  “She planned the wedding without your help. Why can’t you trust her?” What a strange thing to lose trust over. Jonathon just gets weirder by the second.

  “Because this isn’t about her planning the wedding by herself. She didn’t want the help. I didn’t see it, probably because I didn’t want to. She clearly has control issues, and I don’t want someone who has to control everything.” His arms unfold and drop to his sides. He looks defeated and sad . . . and human. I feel a ping of sadness for him, which feels weird for me to have. I’ve spent too much time feeling annoyed by him.

  “Jonathon.” I stand a little closer to him, putting a hand on his upper arm, which also feels weird. I’ll do what it takes to fix this. I must. “You love her, don’t you?”

  “Why do you care?” he asks me, shaking me off with a jerk of his arm.

  “What do you mean? She’s my sister,” I say, scrunching my face at him. What a stupid question.

  “I mean, you don’t even like me, so why do you care whether I love your sister or not?”

  “I li . . . li . . . like you,” I stutter out. That was hard.

  “No, you don’t,” he says flatly.

  I’m having a hard time controlling the liquid courage that is racing through my veins because it’s making me want to say things I’d never say. “I think I just need to spend more time with you,” I say, which is a much tamer version of what I was thinking of saying.

  He just stares at me. So I feel the need to defend myself. “It’s just that you’re always bragging about the cases you’ve won.”

  “I’ve never been a bragger,” he says, appearing completely appalled at the notion.

  “But you’re always talking about your cases.”

  “That was Anna. She’s always talking about my cases, not me.”

  That gives me pause. This entire time, did I think Jonathon was the one bragging when it was actually Anna? Anna doing the bragging does make much more sense.

  Thoughts and memories of my time with Jonathon suddenly start filing into my brain. “Oh, my gosh . . .” I trail off, so many things coming to light. It was Anna the whole time. Anna did the bragging. Anna wanted to do the wedding without any help. It was Anna. Not Jonathon.

  This makes me suddenly realize that I have no idea who Jonathon is. I was only seeing Anna’s version of him. Maybe he doesn’t even go by Jooonathon and that was Anna too.

  “Hi,” I reach out my hand to shake his. “I’m Julia, and you are?”

  “Are you drunk?” Jonathon asks, staring at me as if I’ve lost my mind.

  “Slightly. But that’s not the point. I’ve just realized that I don’t know you at all. So, hi,” I say again, holding out my hand. He reluctantly reaches out and shakes it. “I’m Julia, and you are?”

  “Jonathon,” he says, barely playing along.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Jonathon. Can I call you Jon?”

  “No,” he says firmly. Okay, so that part wasn’t just Anna.

  “Okay, well Jonathon, I look forward to getting to know you better after you’re part of the family.” I smile sincerely.

  He looks at me and I feel like I’m seeing him in a whole new light. I had so many things wrong. I mean, he still has a smug face, but then again, so did his whole family. Maybe it’s not actual smugness, but just a family trait? So much to learn.

  “Didn’t you hear your sister? I’ve called off the wedding,” he says, his eyes shiny. I pray silently that he won’t break down. I’d have no idea what to do.

  I put a hand on his arm again. I must be one of those touchy drinkers. I hate that. I seriously should never, ever drink again. I leave my hand there anyway, and this time he doesn’t shake it off. “Jonathon, do you love my sister?” I ask him once more.

  “I don’t know any more,” he sniffs. Oh, please don’t cry.

  “Really? You can just all of a sudden fall out of love with her?” I squint, unbe
lieving.

  “Of course I love her,” he says after a slight pause. The tearing up appears to have stopped, although his eyes are still fairly shiny.

  “Then you have to love everything about her. Yes, Anna can be a little controlling, but that’s what makes Anna, well, Anna. Honestly, her heart is in the right place. As controlling as it all seemed with the wedding, she does like to be in charge, but I know she was also trying to be helpful to you. She loves you. I’ve never seen her so in love before. If you truly do love her, then you have to take her with the good and the bad. And she has many good qualities.”

  “Like?” he asks, raising his shoulders.

  “Like . . . like . . .” I trail off. Oh, gosh, why am I having a hard time answering this? “Well for one thing, she gives great advice.” Hey! That was true. “And . . . and she has an incredible sense of style and loves to go shopping.” Okay, so that was probably not a quality I should be using to convince him. This isn’t working. I love her as my sister, anyway. It’s different. “Why don’t you tell me what qualities attracted you to her in the first place?”

  “Well,” he peers up at the sky as he thinks. “She has a great sense of humor and a beautiful face. And when she gets really excited about something she has an almost childlike excitement that is so . . . so infectious.” His expression lightens up as he talks about her.

  “Go on, this is good,” I say.

  “You’re right about the good advice. She’s smart. Smarter than she gives herself credit for.” He lifts his chin up, a look of pride suddenly washing over him.

  “So now,” I say, putting my hand on his arm once again, “now what you need to do is figure out if life is better with or without her.”

  “That’s a very good way to look at it,” he says, his eyes brightening even more.