“Are you really a doctor?”
“Did you make him stop acting in movies?”
“Are you giving up your career for him?”
The questions come so fast I can hardly keep track of which girl is asking. My head pivots between them. My palms sweat and my ears ring as they overwhelm me with their demands to know about the intimate details of my life.
“It is true you’re already married?” asks Hannah. “Like you eloped because you’re pregnant? That’s what my roommate heard.”
Whoa. Hold up.
My mouth drops open as two thoughts war in my head. On the one hand, I want to correct her and tell the truth. On the other hand, I want to tell her to buzz off since it’s none of her business. Years of being the polite people pleaser wins out. “We’re not married yet.”
“When’s the wedding, then?” Skylar demands.
Like I’d tell her. Fat chance.
“We’re still selecting a date,” I say diplomatically, hoping she won’t pick up on the lie.
Her eyes narrow and she gives me a look like she can read my mind.
I shift in my seat, pressing harder against Alvina.
“What’s he like?” Hannah asks, as if she has a right to know. “In real life?”
What’s Caleb like? My brain supplies a million answers at once. He’s funny, kind, loyal, so talented it’s almost disgusting. He’s a great cook, singer, and dancer. He still forgets to put the cap back on his toothpaste. His body temperature runs hot, but his feet are always cold—so chilly he sleeps with his socks on, those child-like white ankle socks I find oddly endearing. He’s abig baby when he gets hurt or sick. Band-Aids for cuts. Ice packs for bruises. The king of the Man Cold bundled up on the couch, begging me to bring him one more glass of water.
What’s Caleb like? He’s the center of my world. The star on top of my tree. He’s my everything.
I don’t tell her any of that, of course. Instead, I say, “He’s great.”
“Great?” Hannah repeats.
“Great,” I say more confidently, as if that word contains all the information she needs to know. “I’m very lucky,” I add, to fill the silence that hangs uncomfortably between us.
“Lucky?” Skylar snorts, shaking her head slowly. “You get to marry Caleb Freaking Lawson. That’s more than lucky. You won the whole lottery.” Her lower lip sticks out in a pout. She stares me straight in the eye and, completely deadpan, says, “I hate you.”
My mouth unhinges, all the air in my body escaping with a gasp. Alvina grabs onto my elbow and surges to her feet, dragging me up with her. Overhead, they announce boarding for our flight. Alvina gives me a shove toward the jetway, where I follow Helen Chu into the line of passengers waiting to board.
Right before we reach the ticket agent, Wayne walks up and, in a surprisingly jolly voice, says, “Got my magazine. What’d I miss?”
4
Tuesday, December 10
14 days until the wedding
Gwen
Hate me? How can she hate me? She doesn’t evenknowme.
Besides Dr. Benson at the hospital, I can’t think of anyone who actively dislikes me. I’m usually a very likable person. I’m cheerful, respectful, helpful…all the “-fuls.” It makes me nauseous. The thought that there are a million Skylars out there, hating me simply because I’m the one Caleb chose.
My mind is in such a spin that I barely notice our seating assignment. It’s not until I sink into the plush double-wide chair that I realize we’re in first class.
“Hey,” I protest. “There’s been a mistake. I booked economy coach.”
Alvina is on one side of me, and Wayne’s on the other, like bookends.
