“But seriously, is everything okay?”
I glance back to the dance floor, where Ginger and her former sorority sisters rock out to “Material Girl.” Ginger’s blond hair twirls as she holds up bunches of her tulle skirt. Her Pekingese, Zoie, yips at the corner of the dance floor in a matching gown. Zoie was actually the wedding ceremony star, carrying the rings up the aisle in a special rhinestone pouch.
“Yeah, everything’s great. We both thought it was time to make it legal.”
He stares down into the bottle, only a third full now. I search his expression and wait for him to say something else. But he doesn’t.
Oh no. He knows she’s not right for him.
I take a big sip of cider, staring at the wet ring of condensation my bottle leaves on the knotty wood counter.
He rubs his eyes. “We just see how happy you and Philip are, so we took the plunge.”
I glance over at Philip at the grits bar. He’s talking to Henry’s law partners and layering shredded cheese over his grits. I frown. He’s lactose intolerant and will regret that later. But even now, watching my husband eat something he shouldn’t, knowing he’ll be gassy and bloated tonight, my heart pumps harder at justseeinghim. What we have is special, and I feel a sick lump in my stomach that Henry “took the plunge” with someone he’s not madly in love with.
“Well... best wishes to both of you,” I stammer, pressing the right toe of my taupe high heel into the metal bar stool’s base.
“Thanks.”
We both sit in silence. I want to go join Philip over at the grits bar, but I can’t leave Henry alone here. Not like this. Not after this well-disguised confession.
A string of 90s Madonna songs ends, and James Blunt’s “You’re Beautiful” blares.
I grimace, catch his eye, and we both chuckle. But then Ginger suddenly grabs his shoulder., “Come on,babe, it’s our song!”
No way...I mouth.
He reddens, grins, and heads back to the dance floor.
Finishing my cider, I tug my pink shawl around my shoulders and walk over to Philip.
I hug him, wrapping my arms around his waist tightly. Not caring about who sees, I kiss his cheek, leaving a light rose lipstick imprint. “I love you,” I whisper.
“I love you too.” He sets his empty plate down and returns the kiss. Then he smiles against my forehead. “What’s that for?”
I shrug, keeping my arms tight around him. The stuffy law partners look away, uncomfortable.
“I justreallywant you to know, because it’s fucking true.” I look up at him. “Hey, there’s this really cute gallery just down the hall I want to see.”
“You don’t want to slow-dance to James Blunt? We can pretend its prom and awkward-dance.Orbetter yet you can show off some of your old show-choir moves.”
“Ha! You know I’m, like, fifteen years too old for that.”
“Oh come on.” He pulls me closer to his chest. “When are we going to take those dancing lessons, Lizzie?”
“Sometime, I suppose. Eventually. When I get up the guts again. ButnowI want to check out the gallery.”
“Why...? Oh...”
Then, holding hands, we slip out of the loud, crowded hall.
10
“Will you look atthis?”
Ms. Fernsby sits with the tabloid open at the kitchen island in the morning. She’s sipping coffee, and Heathcliff wolfs down a giant stack of blueberry pancakes. He mutters good morning as I tousle his blond locks, pour a large mug of coffee, and peer over Ms. Fernsby’s shoulder.
MyHeathcliff Sagaactors pose on the red carpet somewhere. From between Everett and Harry, Bella is looking snatched. (At least I think that’s what all the kids are saying now.) She’s wearing a clingy sequined dress, so short, I’m not sure it covers her rump. The guys wear brightly colored tuxedos, shirts unbuttoned down their chests. The outfits would look silly on anyone who isn’t young and ridiculously hot. I hope everything’s alright between them. Hats off to them for keeping their drama private. Not many young actors can do that.
