“We have plenty of time for that later,” Cat says. I met her for the first time earlier tonight, a tiny blonde with a cloud of curly hair. She’s sweet as pie, and her attitude is pure sunshine. It’s a nice contrast with her best friend Pippa’s razor wit and feisty attitude.
James arranged for us to meet at the Copper Cup’s Wine Wednesdays, the one night a week where Brinley keeps the place open late and lets people drink. He also hinted that I might ask them to be part of the wedding party, so my side wouldn’t be “outnumbered” by his friends.
A polite way of saying I don’t really have any.
“Time for refills,” Pippa declares, opening a new bottle of red wine. “We could all use a little unwinding.”
“Please,” Cat says, raising her glass. “Wedding planning is so exhausting, I really need it. You and James have the right idea having a speedy engagement, Maura.”
“Have you decided on a venue yet?” Brinley asks.
“We’re still deciding between going to Paris and getting married here. Paris is my favorite place in the world, but it would be hard for a lot of my friends from the shelter I volunteer at to travel,” Cat says. “We’re looking at places in both cities, but either they can’t fit everyone, or they don’t have the security Nate wants. He wants to make sure there’s no way the paparazzi can crash the ceremony.”
I cringe. If James and I were having a big ceremony, that’s something I’d have to worry about, too. I don’t have any doubts about the contract I signed, but I’m wary of the amount of media attention I’m marrying into.
“You need a refill, Maura?” Pippa asks.
“I’m good, thanks.” I’m still on my first glass, and I know I won’t get to a second. Dr. Markovic has told me plenty of times that I shouldn’t drink on my medications, and to that I say, YOLO. If my malformed ventricle hasn’t killed me yet, a few sips of wine won’t, either—especially since I haven’t had a reason to celebrate with alcohol for at least three years.
I sit back and listen as they discuss the pros and cons of Toronto versus Paris. It’s nice to think that I could be part of this little group of friends. It’s always been hard for me to maintain friendships, between my father’s controlling reach and my own health problems. When you cancel plans enough times because you’re having crazy side effects from a new medication, eventually people are going to stop calling. I don’t blame them.
I’m lucky that Brinley doesn’t mind my flakiness. She doesn’t know about my condition, so she just assumes it’s my artistic temperament. “The muse struck again, didn’t it?” she usually texts if I cancel on her.
The other girls are halfway through their second glasses when the last customers decide to leave, and Brinley quickly darts over to the door and locks it. “Finally,” she sighs. “Now the interrogation can begin.”
“It’s not aninterrogation,” Pippa insists. “We just have a few questions about this whole marriage contract thing.”
“Make that a lot of questions,” says Cat.
“Starting with, what the fuck?” says Brinley. “You got engaged to some guy you weren’t even dating. When did this happen?”
I cross my legs under the table, getting comfortable. I expected questions tonight—mostly from Brinley. There’s no way this is going to be a short conversation. “Recently. My dad first broached the idea in December, and James accepted a few weeks later. Then there was a lot of paperwork, and I had to meet James, but things were only finalized recently.”
“So it’s been months,” Brinley says, sounding stunned. “Why didn’t you tell me about any of this?”
“Honestly? Because I knew I wanted to do it and I didn’t want you to try and talk me out of it.”
“If it was really what you wanted, I would’ve supported you,” she says. I feel a frisson of guilt when I see the real hurt in her eyes. Brinley is my closest friend—maybe my only friend. Of course she’s upset that I didn’t tell her something this big. I’d feel the same.
“I’m sorry.” I reach out and grab her hand. “Trust me, Brinley, if I told anybody I would’ve told you.”
“So you really want this?” Cat says. “A contract marriage with James?”
I nod. “Yes. I want financial freedom. I want a baby. Those were things I wanted long before I met James. He’s giving me the opportunity to have the life I want and he’s getting a major business partnership out of it. We’re both entering this withclear eyes. It’s not going to be some grand romance, but I think it will actually make me happy.”
“I have to ask,” Brinley blurts out. “Are you sure you’re not just doing this to make your dad happy?”
I snort. “No way. In fact, if I could do this without making him happy, that would be my ideal scenario.”
“There are other ways to get financial freedom, you know,” she presses. “You could get a job. Hell, you could work here at the Copper Cup. I’ll fire Trevor. You'd be better at the job, anyway.”
I smile at her. In theory that sounds like a nice life, stocking books, chatting with Brinley, paying my own bills, and coming back to a tiny apartment I pay the rent for. But I could never live that life. There are too many physical limitations with my heart condition. Standing up all day, lugging around boxes of books would be more than my body could take.
“You can’t fire Trevor,” I joke. “I won’t get in the way of true love.”
“Oooo, who’s Trevor?” Pippa asked eagerly.
Brinley rolls her eyes. “He’s in high school and not my type. You wouldn’t have to work here if you didn’t want to, Maura. You could be an artist.”
