I understood her worry, because every time I so much as thought about attending her wedding, my chest would squeeze, my eyes would burn, and I’d break out in cold sweats. Giving myself a much-needed moment to respond, I locked up my condo and slid the keys into my purse.
“Not yet. Has Wesley RSVP’d?”
Wesley. There were too many emotions wrapped up in that one name. He’d been my husband, my partner, and now he was dead to me. Too bad he was still very much alive to my family.
Laura nodded, looking away.
My stomach sank. “Who’s he bringing?”
“Jozette.”
The rage I’d been working so diligently to keep bottled, bubbled to the surface, blurring my vision and making the world sway. Leaning against the wall, I took a couple of deep breaths and counted to ten. Jozette West had been my friend since grade school. We’d co-chaired committees together in high school, she’d been my college roommate, and she’d been one of the six bridesmaids at my wedding. I could crush her. I could make her regret ever betraying me.
But I was out of the game. I didn’t want to be that person anymore.
“I’m sorry, Julia.”
I swallowed back pain and anger, pushing myself off the wall. Hoping Laura would drop the subject and give me a moment to breathe, I led her down the stairs.
“Michael said Joel doesn’t have a date yet, and he’d love to accompany you.”
She didn’t know when to give up. Although I understood and appreciated her need to be helpful, my pride wouldn’t allow me to accept a pity date with the friend of my little sister’s fiancé.
“No.”
She grabbed my arm and tugged, turning me around to face her. She stood on the step above me, giving herself a rare height advantage. “Joel’s a really nice guy. Nothing at all like Wesley. He’s always had a crush on you. You should give him a chance.”
“I can’t, Em. He’s part of the circle.”
She threw her hands in the air. “You talk about us like we’re some kind of cult.”
Cults weren’t usually as resourceful or dangerous. I didn’t need a date for Laura’s wedding; I needed a shield to hide me from prying eyes and whispering voices, so I could survive the event without going nuclear. He had to be handsome, loyal, fearless, and ferocious, and I was pretty sure men like that had gone extinct.
“I’ll find a date.”
Finished with the conversation, I rushed the rest of the way down the stairs and made my way through the small, cramped bookstore I owned and managed named One More Chapter. The smell of books greeted me, calming me down like a drug. I took in a hit through my nose and felt my shoulders relax as I made a mental note of the elderly couple browsing the westerns section.
“You heading out?” My assistant, Justine, asked without looking up from one of the many thick textbooks piled on the counter in front of her. As a first-year pre-med student at Seattle Pacific, her coursework was the stuff of nightmares. She’d come into the bookstore about six months ago, searching for the type of part-time employment that would allow her to collect a paycheck while she studied. I didn’t really need the help, but she was from a middle-class family and needed the money, and I enjoyed the company and freedom her presence allotted.
“Yep,” Laura said with a smile. “I’ll have her back in time to lock up.”
“An order should be coming in soon,” I said, dragging my feet. “Some new releases, so check the dates to make sure you can put them out. If you have any questions, you know how to reach me.”
Still not taking her eyes off her textbook, Justine waved me off. “Go. Have fun. I’ve got this.”
When I didn’t immediately run out the door, Laura grabbed my hand and dragged me to the double-parked Town Car waiting for us. A gray-haired man wearing a suit sprang from the driver’s seat and hurried around to open the back door for us.
“Hi Franck,” I said, greeting him as I slid in.
“Ms. Edwards.” He nodded. “Nice to see you again.”
Franck was French, since all uppity families should have at least one French employee. A kind widower in his late sixties with an easy smile and a mischievous twinkle in his eye, he mostly drove for my family, but also sometimes filled in for the butler. Although he was loyal to my parents, he practiced discretion, and didn’t tattle unless directly asked. When I was young, he’d patiently retrieved me from several places I shouldn’t have been, and very few of my exploits got back to my parents. I liked to think I added a little excitement to Franck’s otherwise boring job.
“Will you be heading to the club for your spa day?” he asked.
Along with the rest of Seattle’s rich and snobby, my family frequented a country club on Bainbridge Island. Despite their world-famous golf course, fantastic spa, and attentive staff, my sister’s wedding would be the one and only time I returned to the club.
“No,” I said, settling in my seat. “Laura has reluctantly agreed to go slumming with me at the spa on the corner of Pine and Fourth.”
