What if I look at her and she’s just being nice?
What if I look at her and I think she wants more, but I misread her expression?
What if she does want more?
Would she move to San Francisco? Would I move to New York?
How guilty will I feel for the rest of my life if her grandmother doesn’t make it?
Why do I feel like the spot where my heart was two hours ago is now occupied by a black hole?
And don’t ask what the ring in my pocket feels like.
“I’m sorry you had to do it at all to get the rest of us to pull our heads out of our collective asses,” Kimberly says.
She’s pacing.
Pacing in ivory flats over a blue rug patterned with concentric rings while the rest of us sit on stiff gray waiting room chairs.
They’re cushioned.
That’s nice.
Possibly the onlynicething in this situation.
“Grandma still hates the Silvers,” Amanda whispers.
“She’s retiring. She can go live in her own misery and completely step out of the Tinsel community if she insists on continuing to hate them over what our family did to them.”
“Maybe after we’re sure she’s gonna pull through?” Amanda says.
I steal a glance at her.
She looks tired. Utterly beaten down by this entire situation. Like she needs an eggnog latte and to be thoroughly satisfied in bed.
Fuck me.
Was it just a few hours ago that I was ready to tear her clothes off inside the bakery kitchen?
And what now?
I can’t fix her grandmother for her. Not her health. Not her opinions. Not her behavior.
And who was I to think that I could change the minds of people who’ve been set in their ways for seventy or more years?
“She’ll pull through,” I tell her. “Can I get you something? Eggnog latte? Fruitcake? A dog to pet?”
Her eyes go shiny while she blinks at me. “I’m sorry.”
“Stop.You don’t have to be sorry.”
“We were supposed to plan the breakup story together.”
“Your version worked very well.” I wince.Good job handling the breakup that I didn’t want to have but don’t have the courage to tell you.“The moment was right. You did exactly what you—what we needed you to do.”
“Pia says she’s donating the cake to your reception even if you don’t get married,” Lorelei says. “And Mrs. Briggs wants to see you in your wedding dress having the time of your life, enjoying what you did for the community with bringing our families together.”
“See?” I nudge her knee with mine. “All’s well that ends well. And your grandmother will pull through. She was talking. She was breathing better. Whatever happened, she’s in good hands.”
