The Wedding War

by Talley, Liz

  Tennyson turned to Charlotte, who had pulled herself together and now stood at the back of the office, hands clasped. “I need a word with your boss. If you don’t mind . . .”

  Charlotte’s eyes slid to Tennyson’s bag. “Oh sure. I’m Charlotte, by the way.”

  “I remember,” Tennyson said, offering no reciprocal greeting to the smiling opportunist, who obviously recognized Hermès.

  Charlotte squared her shoulders. “Right. Kit, we can pick up where we left off later this afternoon. I have a few calls to make, anyway.”

  He nodded. “Sure.”

  Once the door closed, Tennyson turned to Kit. “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  Tennyson parked her hip on the overstuffed chair across the desk from Kit. “You’ve got a worm in your apple, Christopher.”

  “Are you implying something? Because it sounds like you think you know something you don’t know.” He leaned back, looking very confident, clasping his hands over his flat stomach. His smug manner irked her. This was quintessential Kit, deflecting with his arrogance and adding that Cheshire cat smile that essentially said you truly don’t believe that of me, do you? Not little ol’ me. Kit was slick as owl shit.

  “You know, Kit, for years I pined for you, building up this fantastical image in my mind of this golden boy with his beguiling smile and carefree attitude. We had so many good times together—you made me laugh, cry, want to hit you, and want to kiss you. You were the whole enchilada. Girls do that, you know. They romanticize their first loves. But more and more, I’m realizing just how little substance there is to you, Kit.”

  He frowned. “So let me get this straight—not only are you accusing me of doing something despicable, but you’re also shitting on me? Thanks, Teeny. That’s just what I wanted—a side of insult with my accusation of adultery. Which is not true, by the way.”

  Tennyson looked back at the couch and then back at him, arching an eyebrow.

  Kit threw up his hands. “Oh please, we were going over some bids. Her feet were hurting. She’s my associate, not my lover.”

  “So you say.”

  Kit sat up, the chair snapping back to its original position. “Just because you’re trying to make up with Melanie doesn’t mean you get to poke your nose into our business. Nothing is going on here. I’m tired of people implying that Charlotte and I are being inappropriate.”

  “Well, if it looks like a dog, smells like a dog, and barks like a dog . . .”

  “Tennyson, this is ridiculous. I haven’t had an affair.” He sucked in a deep breath and exhaled.

  She was a good judge of character and had been lied to enough in her life that she was good at spotting the tells. Kit seemed to be telling the truth; however, that didn’t mean he wasn’t on the precipice. He said he hadn’t, not that he wasn’t going to. That cozy little scenario she’d barged into was cause for concern. Kit might not have dipped his stick in the water, but the water was lapping at his toes. And this particular water was aggressive, slender, and had a really annoying laugh. Like a braying donkey. “Okay, maybe so, and I’m not trying to make up for what I did to Melanie. Whether any of us like it or not, we’re about to be intertwined through marriage, and I don’t want your bad decisions pulling down the rest of us. So all I’m saying is you might want to consider cutting that worm out and saving the rest of your apple.”

  Kit just looked at her, his hands now tented on his desk.

  “Unless you don’t like apples,” she said.

  “So you think I should fire Charlotte?” Kit asked. He sounded like he thought she was crazy.

  “I think you need to think about the life you have. It’s a good one, right? And you’re holding that life in the center of your palm, like a beautiful, ripe apple . . . that has a worm. Do you want to keep the apple? Because if you let the worm keep eating away, it won’t be an apple anymore. You’ll be starting all over with new fruit, and you don’t know what you’ll get.”

  Kit folded his hands and looked at her. “So you’re saying I need to think about what really matters most to me.” It was a statement.

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying. We’re not getting any younger, right? I mean, in a few years, we could actually be grandparents. And if you want to know the honest-to-God truth—I have to use readers to see the menu at restaurants. So, yes, I’m saying you need to think about who you want to be. Give your life some thought. You have a lot riding on what you decide.”

  “A lot of what you’ve said makes sense. I’ve been struggling these past months. There’s been a lot going on, business-wise and on a personal level, so I have been . . . confused isn’t the exact right word. Maybe complacent is a better word, but actually, you’re right. I have to think about what I want the next years of my life to be like, and I have to consider my family while also being true to myself.” Kit leaned back in the chair and glanced out the window that overlooked Texas Street. “Sometimes I feel like I don’t even know the man I’ve become.”

  Tennyson hadn’t expected to feel such a sense of accomplishment. This small intervention told her all she needed to know about how good she’d be volunteering at the counseling center. Joseph was right—she had a knack for understanding people and helping them see what was most important in their lives. “Everyone gets a bit lost sometimes, and we all have to stop and readjust. Look, I have to run. We have the lingerie shower and drag queen bingo tonight. See you tomorrow at the church.”

  Kit stood when she rose. “Hey, sometimes it takes someone else looking in on one’s life to show them what they’ve been doing. I’m still a bit insulted that you think I’m a no-good cheater, but I do appreciate you being brave enough to say something. I’ve always admired that about you, Teeny. You charge in with guns blazing.”

  She lifted a shoulder. “Sometimes you have to make an entrance.”

  Tennyson had left his office feeling like she’d done at least one good thing for Melanie, not that she was truly making restitution for her bad behavior. But it still felt good. Now Kit could see putting his marriage and family ahead of selfish desires and his ego was the right choice.

  So why was Melanie being such a grinch tonight? They were playing drag queen bingo, for heaven’s sake. What was there to not like about that?

  She looked at Melanie, who was sipping a Diet Coke and frowning at her bingo card. The others at their table cast wary looks at her as if she were a stray cat who could lash out and claw them at any moment.

  “It’s just one more round, Melly,” Tennyson said, trying to sound encouraging.

  “I told you not to call me that,” Melanie said, not bothering to look up at her.

  “God, what is your freaking problem, Melanie?”

  Her head snapped up, her brown eyes crackling with something dangerous. Tennyson glanced around like perhaps she’d dropped down into a movie set and something alien might come bursting out of Melanie’s torso. The woman looked blazing-eyes possessed.

  “You want to know what my problem is? You really want to know?” Melanie hissed, narrowing her eyes. “It’s you. You’re my problem, Teeny.”

  Everyone at the table played at being statues, their eyes wide.

  “What?” Tennyson asked, making a confused face. “What now?”

  “What now? You. You’ve always been my problem. Wherever you go, bad things follow. You’re like a fucking plague that kills everything in its path. It’s been like that from the very beginning. You destroy everything with your big ideas, your grand plans, your over-the-top ridiculous-ass exploits. Everything you touch falls apart.” Melanie had stopped with the low, hissing modulation. Her voice had risen to a full roar, and everyone in the place stopped talking and stared at their table.

  “What are you talking about?”

  Melanie uncurled her hands from the table, her mouth drawing back to reveal her clenched teeth. She picked up the red bingo dauber and launched it at Tennyson’s head.

  Te
nnyson threw up her hands at the last minute, deflecting the marker. She may have squealed. “Stop it! What is wrong with you?”

  “Think I wouldn’t find out about what you told my husband, you stupid, meddling whore?” Melanie shouted, coming around the table.

  People gasped at the language, but Tennyson didn’t have time to catch the shock on their faces because suddenly Melanie’s hands were wrapped around her throat. She felt the chair tilt, and they both pitched backward, slamming to the floor. For a brief moment, she was free. She started scrabbling back, but Melanie was quicker than she looked. She shoved Tennyson down and straddled her.

  “Why did you tell him to leave me? Haven’t you done enough to me?” Melanie was screaming now, wrestling against Tennyson’s hands, trying to get to her face. Tennyson pulled her arms up to ward off further attack while twisting her body, trying to free herself.

  “Stop,” Tennyson yelled, turning her head.

  “Why do you hate me so much?” Melanie yelled.

  Tennyson paused at that, withdrawing her arms to look at Melanie. Her old friend took advantage and slugged her. Melanie landed a good one on Tennyson’s cheekbone before Tennyson turned away, bucking her hips in an effort to get Melanie off her.

  “I didn’t do anything. Mel, stop. You’re acting crazy.”

  With that, Melanie fell off and rolled into a ball, sobbing. “He’s leaving me. He’s leaving. You told him to do it.”

  Bella reached beneath Tennyson’s armpits and lifted her. Tennyson slapped at the drag queen’s hand. “No. Let me go. I’m fine.”

  “Sugar, I’ve seen a lot of drama in my life, but this beats it all,” Bella said, steadying her.

  Tennyson pressed a hand against her cheek and looked down at the woman curled into a ball issuing big body-racking sobs. A keening wail came from Melanie, a sound that was almost feral but heartbreaking at the same time.

  Dropping to her knees, she placed a hand on Melanie’s shoulder. “Mel. Come on. Stop.”

  Jolie looked at her husband. “Call 911. That was totally an assault.”

  Emma skidded onto the scene, her mouth open and obviously at a loss. Tennyson held up a hand to Jolie. “No. No police. It’s just a misunderstanding.”

  Ginger clacked over with a tat-tat-tat of her platform shoes. “What in the hell is going on? We don’t allow this kind of bullshit up in here.”

  Tennyson looked up from where she kneeled. “I’m sorry. Uh, she’s not feeling well. A death in the family and a lot of stress with the wedding. We’re going now. If there are any damages, send me the bill. I gave Bella my information earlier.”

  Ginger flipped her wig over her bronzed shoulder. “Don’t think I won’t do that. ’Cause I will. That chair is broken. Broken. Now y’all get on and take this woman out of here.”

  “Mel,” Tennyson said, jiggling Melanie’s arm. The woman had curled into the fetal position and hadn’t stopped sobbing during the whole conversation. “Come on. We have to go.”

  Melanie sat up and pushed Tennyson’s hands away. “Don’t touch me. I hate you. I fucking hate you.”

  Tennyson drew back, not understanding what had just happened. Her cheek throbbed, and everyone still stared at them. She stood, moving backward away from Melanie and the absolute hatred in her old friend’s eyes. Melanie had said Kit left her. That couldn’t be true. He’d said that . . . he’d essentially said that he understood what he needed to do.

  Oh. God.

  Surely, he hadn’t thought Tennyson meant . . .

  But maybe he’d taken it that way. Maybe Kit had taken her apple analogy and punted.

  Emma managed to get her mother up and out the door, the bridal party trailing behind her, all looking worried and completely bamboozled about what had just occurred. Tennyson kept stepping backward, her hands shaking, her body joining in on that chorus.

  Kit had left Melanie?

  And he’d obviously told her it was Tennyson’s idea.

  “Well, shoot, I guess I ain’t gonna get those chicken wings after all,” Frank said, completely unaware that Tennyson was still in the room. He slapped Jason on the back, and they moved back to the table and their forgotten bingo cards. The drag queens started up the music and assumed their vampy positions. The world started turning again.

  Tennyson bumped up against a jukebox and reached out a steadying hand so she didn’t buckle under the emotion swamping her.

  Tennyson never cried because she was too tough to cry.

  But at that moment, everything she’d claimed to be left her, and all that was left were the saltiest of tears.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Melanie lay in bed and stared up at the ceiling. She’d painted it last February, a clean white that reflected too much light. The muted gray had been a better choice, but she’d been obsessed with “a bright, clean white” because she felt like that would project what her life was—streamlined, pure, and full of light.

  She was obviously a dumb ass, because right now she’d have to paint that ceiling black. Or at least a dark charcoal.

  “Mom?” Noah stood in the doorway of her bedroom.

  Melanie glanced at her bedside clock, which read 1:32 a.m. “Hey, honey, what are you doing up?”

  The Xanax she’d taken had made her woozy, but she still couldn’t sleep. The images of the day kept circling through her mind. It had started fine—she’d had the bump of sadness and two cigarettes in the kitchen garden—but she’d been looking forward to the evening. She’d never been to a drag queen show before and thought the idea Emma’s girlfriends had come up with was fun. Plus, they had the rehearsal and wedding to look forward to. Marc had done an amazing job with the little time he’d been given, and he hadn’t gone too far over budget. Even better.

  Emma was happy, glowing with excitement. Andrew had proved suitably protective, making sure his bride was resting and eating as she started medical school. Noah had done well with summer baseball, and Kit had been more attentive, a firm rock to lean on when she missed Hillary. Even her mother seemed to have lessened the severity of her criticism.

  So how had the day gone so wrong?

  Tennyson.

  That woman had turned up like a bad penny, urging Kit to make a concrete choice about his life. Obviously, her words had made him doubt what he’d chosen all those years ago, and Melanie wouldn’t put it past Tennyson to have planned on destroying their marriage all along. Maybe that was why she’d moved back. More revenge. After all, Kit had been a source of contention between them from the moment he’d strolled into their high school. Tennyson had never been able to accept defeat.

  So why had Tennyson been so nice to her, talking her into buying a dress, coming to the hospital, giving her a joint?

  What was that old saying? Keep your friends close but your enemies closer?

  That rule had been made for her and Tennyson.

  Noah shuffled his feet as he hung on to the doorframe. “I’m just checking on you.”

  Melanie sat up, and the room rocked a little. “I’m okay, honey.”

  “Are you going to have to go to a hospital or something? Hunter Alack’s mom had a breakdown and had to go to Forest Grove for a month.”

  Melanie patted the bed beside her, and Noah dutifully trucked the length of her bedroom and sank down, looking awkward. “I’m fine. I guess I haven’t really comprehended the loss of Aunt Hilly, and the stress has been, like, a lot. Your daddy and I had an argument this afternoon, and I think it all just culminated into . . . an episode. I’m fine now.”

  He twisted his hands. This child had always been the more sensitive of her two, and he was prone to anxiety and worry. “I’m just worried. Dad’s not even here. Where is he?”

  “I think he’s staying in a hotel tonight,” she said, electing for the truth. Part of her wanted to smooth it all over and make it not what it was, but she also wouldn’t protect Kit’s bad behavior. Or lie to her child.

  “Are y’all going to get a divorce?” Noah asked, his
voice almost a whisper, with worry nattering at the edges of the query.

  She brushed back his hair. “You know, I don’t really know.”

  He whipped his head around. “Seriously?”

  Melanie moved her hand down and rubbed his back. “Your dad and I are both going through a rocky time. It doesn’t mean that we will choose to divorce, but I’m not going to tell you there’s not a possibility. I think I should be truthful with you because you’re old enough to understand that sometimes things don’t work between people.”

  “Yeah. I guess.”

  “Honestly, being an adult really sucks, Noah.”

  “Yeah, I think I want to be one until something like this happens. Then I’m pretty good just staying a kid who doesn’t have to make all the decisions. That’s probably lame to admit. I’m kinda nervous about college and being so far away.”

  “Everyone gets nervous about college. That’s just a given but remember there are colleges that are close by. You don’t have to go far away.” Part of her wanted him to stay. For her to have one person here with her, as selfish as that thought was. Because she felt so alone and lost at present. Just having Noah here, leaving his water bottles scattered around the house and the television on, would feel normal. She needed some normal in her life right now.

  Noah shrugged and flopped back on the bed. “Yeah. Maybe.”

  “But we have time to think about that. The thing is, I don’t want you to worry about me. I’m fine.” As she said the words, she knew she was lying to him, doing the thing she said she wouldn’t do. But at the same time, she knew that one day she would be fine. Because, though her husband was sleeping at the Marriott, her daughter wasn’t talking to her, and she’d pretty much assaulted her soon-to-be in-law, she would be okay. Maybe because she had that much of her mother inside her. She wasn’t going to give up or go down just because it would be the easiest thing to do.

  She stroked Noah’s head, loving the feel of his silky brown hair beneath her fingers and that waft of teen boy that was somewhere between salty heat and wet dog, with an Axe body spray finish. He closed his eyes and fell asleep half on, half off her bed. She scooted over to Kit’s side, punched the pillow, and then let the calming drug do its thing.