“My cousin Brad’s. He’s getting married in a few weeks and it’s in a barn,” Ursula said with a roll of her eyes. “She’s wearing cowboy boots with her dress.”
“What’s wrong with that?” I asked. “It’s her wedding.”
“I know. It’s fine, I just don’t know what to wear to a wedding that’s going to be in a barn,” Ursula said.
I leaned across Emily to grab more fries and said to Ursula, “Clothing snob.”
“Is Brad related to Oliver?” Emily asked, and my hand stilled over her plate.
“Brothers. They’re brothers. Brad’s older,” Ursula said. “Michael says it’s weird that he’s going to all these weddings now. Everyone he knows is getting married.”
“Maybe that means he’s going to propose,” I said.
“We’ve only been dating for a month. Cool it. We’re not there yet,” Ursula said.
“But you love him?” I cocked my head to the side, observing the heat creeping up Ursula’s cheeks as she gave a shy nod. “Why are you embarrassed? It’s sweet. Love is sweet.”
“Because,” Ursula said, “I was sure you two would tell me it was too soon, like I told you with Cliff when you told me you loved him.”
“That’s because Cliff wasn’t right for her,” Emily said. “Obviously, Michael is a different story.”
“So is Oliver,” I said, and Ursula and Emily swiveled to stare at me.
“What do you mean?” Ursula asked. “Oliver is a bad idea,” Emily said, and Ursula agreed. “I know. He is, but I still want to know what you meant, Laney.”
“Nothing.”
“You like Oliver. Ha! I knew it!” Ursula stood up in the middle of the break room and pointed at me accusingly, her mouth an angry slash as she said, “I knew it.”
“Yeah, well. Keep it down. He’s a bad idea, I know,” I said and Ursula sat down and relaxed her shoulders. “Besides, it doesn’t matter. And he doesn’t feel like that about me,” I said.
“How do you know until you ask?” Emily said.
“I did. I…we kissed,” I said.
“How was it? Don’t leave out any details,” Emily said, and Ursula leaned closer in on the tiny circular table.
“It was….it was amazing.” I closed my eyes, remembering the feel of Oliver’s mouth on mine. “It made my toes curl. It literally made my toes curl from how good it was. I had no idea kissing could do that.”
“Imagine how good other things are,” Emily said, and Ursula hit her and said, “Gross. Cut it out. That’s my cousin.”
“Please. If we have to hear about Michael’s lovemaking skills, you can hear about how good of a kisser Oliver is,” Emily said with a shake of her head. “And also? No one wants to know how Michael’s lovemaking skills rate. He’s not a figure skater. He doesn’t want to know, either.”
“We don’t want to know either, in case you missed Emily’s subtlety,” I added.
“So, you and Oliver” Ursula said flatly.
“There is no me and Oliver. We kissed, and we’re not doing that again,” I said.
“Why?” they both asked in unison.
“Because. It was a bad idea, like you said. And he’s kind of dangerous,” I said.
“Dangerous? I assure you, Oliver is a bad idea, but not dangerous,” Ursula said, stabbing at her salad with her fork, causing a tomato to squirt across the table.
“Poor tomato. Never had a chance,” Emily said.
“Oliver is dangerous to me. I just got out of a relationship with Cliff. Five very, very long years.”
“But that was Cliff,” Emily said.
“So you keep pointing out. That was Cliff. This is Oliver. Oliver is worse. Oliver knows me. We talk. We’re friends. It was never like that with Cliff, it was just me drooling all over him. With Oliver, it’s real. And Oliver told me I was beautiful.” I closed my eyes, picturing him above me as he told me that.
“You are beautiful,” Emily said.
“But Cliff never told me that. He said I was pretty sometimes, but it didn’t seem like he meant it.”
“We can kill Cliff, right? That’s legal. He’s not technically human since he has no heart, so there shouldn’t be a problem,” Ursula said.
“Stop. It’s fine. I don’t care about Cliff. Cliff is history. The point is, Oliver is going to leave me.”
“Is he?” Emily said, and Ursula said, “He’s never stayed with a woman. He’s not exactly a good candidate for monogamy.”
“Who says he’d leave you?” Emily said. “You’re different, Laney. I’m not saying you should do this, but you’re just avoiding this out of fear.”
“Please,” I said. “It’s not fear. It’s practically science. He’s never been in a relationship. He uses women. And it’s me, not some supermodel.
“And it would hurt when it ended. Maybe more than it did with Cliff, and I need less, not more. I need less of everything. And I just remembered that I wasn’t supposed to tell you guys about me and Oliver kissing,” I said, covering my face with my hands.
“What? Why? Do we get to kill Oliver too?” Emily asked.
“No. He’s just—this situation is weird. He’s embarrassed. It was a mistake. And he doesn’t feel that way about me,” I said.
“Okay,” Ursula said, her voice thick with regret. “Let’s not talk about Oliver ever again.”
“Let’s agree to only talk about superficial things,” Emily said, “Like why you two idiots chose to eat salads for lunch.”
“Oh good. Does that mean I get to critique wedding dresses with cowboy boots?” Ursula said, excited.
“Damn it. I guess so,” Emily said.
Oliver
Mother dusted some lint off of my suit jacket and straightened the lapels. “It seems a bit snug across the chest. Let me see who I can find,” she said, her eyes not meeting mine. I undid a button on the vest and sat down in an overly rugged leather armchair that smelled of Old Spice.
Brad came and sat in the adjacent armchair, loosening his silk tie. “Thanks again,” he whispered.
“I was being an ass. I’m sorry it took me so long to come to my senses.”
“Did Mother talk you into it?” he said as he brushed his hands on his knees.
“Yeah. Mother.” I nodded wildly.
“You’re lying. I know it was Mia.”
“You do?”
“I know everything. She told me,” he said with gruffness.
“She did?” I asked, my voice going up an octave.
“Of course she did. I knew you were avoiding Mother. I knew Mia could talk you into coming here. She told me she talked you into it. I knew you’d listen to her.”
“Oh.” I settled back into the chair, awash in relief. “Yeah. Well, we’ve been friends for a long time.”
“She explained to me that Mother was on your case. I’m sorry. I didn’t know she was giving you such a hard time.”
“I didn’t know how much it would mean to you that I was here. Mia said you were thinking about postponing the wedding.”
“I was,” he said. “You’re my brother. If you couldn’t make it, well…”
“I’m coming. I was an ass. I’m sorry. Mia explained it.” I swallowed past the lump in my throat, just as Mother reappeared with the tailor.
“Stand up, Oliver.” She pulled on my sleeve and I obediently stood, my posture wooden. “Now, see?” She turned me around like I was a mannequin. “It pulls right here. He needs a wider fit in the shoulders. I don’t know what idiots you’re employing, but use a measuring tape. This is my son’s wedding, and I don’t want this to look like we got the suit at Wal-Mart.”
“I don’t think anyone will think that,” Brad said as I held out my arms to be measured.
Mother patted my stomach. “Have you gained weight? I think you have. Maybe measure his pants size again, too. This is ludicrous. What are you eating? I thought you were a physician. You need to take better care of yourself.”
“Mother,” Brad said, but I simpl
y shook my head so Brad would stop. After the tailor retook all my measurements and promised the blood of his first child to my mother to pay for his sins, Mother said, “Now, you’re coming to lunch, Oliver.” It wasn’t a question.
“That’ll be nice. Mia’s going to meet us at the Tilth,” Brad said.
I started to protest, but Mother said, “You will come and be a part of this family. Your brother is getting married. You drove two hours. You will stay for lunch.”
Mia was waiting for us at the restaurant, her skin as alabaster smooth as ever, her blonde hair loose around her shoulders in soft waves, and I had to turn away when Brad leaned in to give her a kiss. “It’s good to see you, Oliver,” Mia said with a genuine smile.
“You too,” I said, but I pulled out my phone and put it on the table, willing work to call and pull me away from this nightmare, and just like that, my phone buzzed with a text.
I peered at the phone, reading a text from Ursula. You kissed Laney?!?!?
I told her not to say anything, I wrote back.
You like her, she wrote.
So? I texted back.
You won’t hurt her? Please?
I would never, I wrote her, just as Mother pulled the phone from my hand. “This is rude, Oliver.” She read through my texts as I said, “Hey,” and she asked, “Who’s Laney, and why were you kissing her?”
Mia’s eyes went wide and Brad grinned broadly as he said, “Yeah, who’s Laney?”
I winced and shook my head. “No one. She’s no one.”
“You should bring her to the wedding,” Brad said. “Shouldn’t he, Mia?” He glanced down at Mia, who was fidgeting with her water goblet.
“Sure,” Mia said with a strange smile. “Of course. Bring anyone you want.”
“I think that would be awkward, as Delaney and I aren’t seeing each other,” I said.
“Nonsense,” Mother said. “You’re obviously seeing each other. Even your cousin knows about it.”
“She and Ursula are friends,” I explained. “And she lives in the same building as me. Across the hall. And she’s just a friend,” I said again for emphasis.
“I get it.” Brad gave me a thumbs up. “Still. Friends can come to the wedding. And think how much better it will be if you have someone to hang out with.”
“Michael’s coming. And so is Ursula. And also the rest of our cousins. I think I’ll manage,” I said.
“Nonsense,” Mother said again. “We’re sending an invitation. She’ll come to the rehearsal dinner as well.”
“Rita,” Mia said, “if Oliver doesn’t want to bring her—”
Mother looked sharply at Mia, and then at me. She emphasized each word as she said them. “Oliver will bring Delaney.”
Mia nodded, Brad grinned, and I put my head in my hands and mumbled, “Shit.”
Delaney
I trudged up the stairs, dripping wet, with Jenny’s muddy paws clutched to my chest. It had started thundering during her walk, and after the rain had drenched us, Jenny had found a giant mud puddle to slosh through. I was soaked, dirty, cold and miserable as I made it to the landing, Jenny clawing to get out of my arms as she ran toward the door.
“Ooooh, aren’t you beautiful?” a feminine voice cooed as I saw Jenny scamper up a pair of denim-clad legs.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, looking at the stranger’s now-dirty jeans. “Jenny!”
“It’s alright,” the woman said with a smile. She stood up and dusted off her palms, and as I brushed my wet hair out of my face, I saw her pale skin, her blonde hair falling over her thin ivory cardigan, sitting on her waiflike frame.
“Are you a friend of Oliver’s?” I asked.
“I am.” She held out a smartphone. “We had lunch in Chicago and he left this accidentally. I thought I’d drop it by. I’m Mia.” She held out her free hand.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Delaney. His neighbor.”
Her mouth quirked up on one side. “Delaney?”
“Uh, yeah,” I said. I unlocked my door and said, “Why don’t you just hang out here until Oliver gets back.” I gestured her to my living room, and then went to clean up. I came back with a plate of lemon cupcakes. “Help yourself.”
“Wow, thank you,” she said, picking one up daintily with her thin fingers, and holding it in her hand, making no move to eat it as she beamed at me.
“So, you’re Oliver’s friend?” I shifted in the chair across from her as she nodded. I examined her tiny body, her shiny hair, her big blue eyes. She was definitely Oliver’s type, so I asked the burning question. “You were with Oliver, right?”
“He told you about me?”
Not wanting to hurt her feelings and tell her that she was not exactly first in line at Oliver’s apartment, I lied. “Sure, he told me about you and him. Of course.”
Her face fell. “Me and him? It’s not what you think.”
“It’s okay. Oliver is my friend. I understand.”
“He’s just your friend?”
“Of course. I’m not Oliver’s type. I know his type, and it’s more…you. Trust me.” I blew my drying bangs out of my face and then averted her steady gaze on me.
She said, “Okay, you’re right. He told me himself that I was his type. But, I swear to you, we never did anything but talk. We just sat and had coffee and talked, and talked, and talked. He was so great, and Brad was in Africa at the time, and I was lonely, and I didn’t know how deep we were into it until he told me he was in love with me, and asked me to break up with his brother.
“You have to understand that while I really care for Oliver, he’s just not…” Her eyes became watery and unfocused. “I’m in love with Brad, and I feel terrible about how things got so tangled. I swear I never cheated on Brad once, not even in my head.”
My mouth had fallen open at her admission, and before I had the chance to formulate a reply, there was a knock at my door. “Just a second,” I squeaked, and wrenched the door open to find Oliver fidgeting nervously in the hallway.
“Hey,” he said.
“Uh.” I glanced behind me at perfect, beautiful Mia sitting on my red sofa.
“I know things are still weird, but I need to ask a favor,” he said. “I left my phone in Chicago—” He never finished his sentence as Mia brushed past my shoulders and said, “Hi, Oliver,” and I saw his face go from nervous to raw with love and hurt. “Mia,” he said, his voice suddenly deeper and rougher, like he’d injected himself with testosterone. “Hey,” he said.
She tugged on his hand and said, “I brought your phone. And I thought we could talk.”
“You drove all this way?” he said as he scanned her from top to bottom, his face filled with longing and lust. It was clear how he felt about her, and my stomach wrenched and did a backflip.
“Of course I did,” she said softly.
“I’ll leave you two. Nice to meet you, Mia,” I said quickly, and Oliver asked distractedly, “Hmm?” never taking his eyes off the woman in front of him.
“Nice to meet you, Delaney,” she said, but her voice was muffled by me closing my door on them.
Seventeen
Oliver
Mia walked into my apartment and said, “So, that was Delaney. Unexpected.”
“Unexpected?”
“It’s nice to see you breaking out of the mold. She’s certainly not the pretty girl stereotype you usually go for.” She smiled at me. “Are you dating her to piss off your mom? Because that hair and those clothes would definitely get to your mom.”
“What?” I asked. “Delaney’s great. Why are we talking about her?”
She said carefully, “You’re right. I’m sorry. I felt jealous at lunch.” She let out a nervous laugh. “I know I have no right to be jealous. I’m actually really relieved. I felt this sudden possessiveness around you that I didn’t know was there until you found someone else. I guess I know how you feel, now.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that when I told you I didn
’t love you, maybe I was wrong.” She walked over to me and gripped my hands in hers. She rested her head against my chest, and my hand automatically went up to her hair, feeling her small and helpless against me. She was so tiny and fragile and unlike Delaney.
“I just don’t know what to do, Oliver. Tell me what to do.”
I cradled her beautiful face in my hands and looked at her. She was lovely and flawless and not mine. She was telling me everything I had wanted to hear months ago, but I felt ill with the reality of it now. “Go home,” I said, and I pushed her off of me gently. “Please.”
Eighteen
Delaney
Ursula was turning from side to side as she inspected herself in a three-way mirror, pouting. “I don’t know about this dress,” she said, tugging at the hem of the deep red skirt that sat high on her legs.
“It’s a little short for a wedding,” Emily said.
“Doesn’t matter. You look great. If I could wear that dress, I totally would.” I eyed her smooth, bare legs with unbridled jealousy.
“You don’t understand. Brad and Oliver come from the rich side of the family, and I come from the trashy side. My aunts will have things to say if I show up in this. And why can’t you wear this dress? You’re not related to the Webbers,” Ursula said.
“You know why,” I said, crossing my arms across my stomach.
“Lane, we’ve had this conversation before,” Emily said in a patronizing tone. “You have a beautiful body.”
I shook my head. “Not talking about this.” I held out another dress to Ursula, a fitted, sleeveless cream and black dress. I had fingered the silky material when I found it on the rack earlier and remarked that while it wasn’t a zany Delaney fashion, it was beautiful. Ursula had nudged me to try it on myself, but I’d stubbornly refused, saying it didn’t have nearly enough quirk. It was quirkless. Scary. Someone would see exactly what I looked like in it. “Here, try mine,” I said, handing over the dress.
She frowned. “I still think this is for more your body type,” but she took it and disappeared into the dressing room. She spoke through the curtain, “So, I heard a rumor that you’re getting invited to the wedding!”
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