“How—” Mom clears her throat. “How do you feel about it?”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s not my party. It’s Emily and Austin’s. And I love them and I’m so happy to celebrate the new baby,” I say, then add, “Steven and I broke up over a year ago.”
“Okay,” she says tentatively. She wants it to ruffle my feathers enough that I fall back into his arms. But it won’t. “Well, don’t forget the cake.”
“Great. See you in five hours.”
MY MOTHER’S HOME ONLake Washington is ridiculous. And I mean that in the most flattering way. Cream stucco with richly painted trim, towering against the slope leading down to the lake like a three-tiered wedding cake. She purchased it five years ago to celebrate her eighth book hitting the best-seller’s list. She has earned the immaculate grandeur I didn’t grow up with, and she deserves it, but it’s strange. My sister and I grew up in a rambler in Clyde Hill—a beautiful suburb outside of Bellevue—but it was simple. Rhododendron bushes and two-year-old mulch. A small fenced yard and no lake access.
Now, stepping through the arched front door that leads to the foyer of my mother’s home reminds me simple stopped years ago.
When I decided to go back to school.
When I decided to do something I loved.
When I caught who I thought was the love of my life in bed with a librarian named Chelsey.
Oh well, lesson learned.
Balancing the cake in my hands, I holler, “Cake delivery!”
“Julia! Is that you?” I hear Emily, and as I click my heels against the polished tile floor around the corner, I see her next to the charcuterie spread, sipping sparkling water out of a wine glass. She’s wearing a billowy green dress that flows to her ankles and wraps gently around her shoulders. Her bump barely pokes out. Her blonde hair is curled into beach waves, and her skin has that pregnant glow everyone talks about.
“You are the cutest pregnant person I’ve ever seen!” I say as she wraps her arms around my shoulders. I air kiss her cheek, still balancing the cake in my hands.
She sighs as she steps back and rubs her belly. “Though, October can’t come soon enough. The heartburn will be the death of me!”
I let out a small laugh and say, “I heard this isthecake! Where should we put it?”
“Here. I’ll show you,” she says, leading me to a table on the back patio draped in white linen and sprinkled with gold, blue, and pink confetti. There’s a glass vase next to the white cake stand with tiny slips of paper and a sign that says, “Boy or Girl?”
“Don’t forget to vote!” Emily says as we unbox the cake. It’s a simple round cake with white frosting, the filling is blue or pink revealing the sex of the baby. “We’ll probably cut it open an hour or so after the party starts. That gives everyone time to have adrink, and for Austin’s college roommates to show up—they’re late to everything if they show up at all.”
She laughs a little, and I flush at the mention of them, knowing one of them kissed me until my toes tingled last night.
“I haven’t met them, have I?” I ask.
“Oh, I’m sure you met them at some time or another, but honestly, none of them are worth knowing... trust me. Especially JP.”
My ears perk up. “Oh, really, why?”
“Julia, I swear. He belongs to one woman and it’s not you. He just needs to come to his senses.”
The bitter taste of jealousy hits my tongue. I internally berate myself. Twenty-four hours of knowing him, and I’m ready to stake a claim—the notion is preposterous.
In any other universe, I probably would have met more of Austin’s friends from college, but he and Emily had a destination wedding in Barcelona. They rented a giant house, and essentially, only family came. There were probably only thirty people there in total. Sadly, not many friends made it and even more unfortunate, none of the friends were JP. However, it may have resulted in me wanting to jump beds from Steven’s to JP’s and make me the villain in every scenario.
“Oh, Julia. It’s about time you arrived!” My mother sashays out onto the patio wearing a white linen dress with coral and turquoise bangles. Her arms are outstretched like she’s the angel Gabriel bearing good news.
I glance at my watch. “I’m thirty minutes early.”
“Yes, cutting it close, wouldn’t you say?” she asks, air kissing my cheek and holding me in place by my elbows for examination. Her gaze wanders over my yellow slip dress. “I don’t like this color on you.”
“Thanks.” I give her my best smile. Every interaction with her starts with a blow—a small chipping at my self-esteem.I’ve learned to ignore it.Take her words with a grain of salt,Gramma used to say.That’s just your mom.Unfortunately, being a dick is considered a character trait if you’re Alexandra Kennedy Waters.
“Mom!” Emily scolds. “She looks lovely in yellow. It makes her look tan.”
“Fake tan,” Mom mutters, and I squint at her, knowing she gets a spray tan biweekly.
