Chapter Nine
“So that is ahugefucking boat, right?”
For at least the tenth time in the last tense seven and a half minutes, Rosie’s boisterous voice pierced the heavy silence that kept falling thickly over the leather interior of the SUV.
Layla counted to six: one second for each of the passengers in this car, an unlikely crew. Rosie in the front passenger seat, wearing a burgundy-pleather corset top and matching pleated miniskirt, chunky black boots laced to her shin. The young, clean-cut, dark blue suit–clad driver, who had stared in seeming awe at Rosie’s appearance outside the hotel, and then haltingly introduced himself in English as Matthieu, his one and only effort at speaking on this short ride.
Michael and Emily behind them in two captain-style leather seats, him in a crisp white shirt and tan suit, a complement to Emily in bridal cream, a color Layla thought made her—pale-faced as she still was—look wispy and indistinct. Michael’s arm awkwardly extended across the narrow space to keep hold of Emily’s hand, even though she kept her gaze out the window.
And finally, her and Griffin, in the back bench seat. Both ofthem pressed as far as they could get to their respective sides, him in all black again, dress pants and a long-sleeved knit crew neck shirt that seemed too casual for the occasion, her in a loose-fitting, latte-colored midi dress that had seemed perfect for her strange position at this wedding when she’d ordered it, and now—given the mood of everyone in this car except for Rosie—seemed overly dour.
Six seconds, and no one responded.
So Layla said, “Itisbig,” which sounded absolutely inane. She wasn’t even sure whether Rosie could hear her from back here. In her periphery, she saw Griffin shift, a body annoyed or impatient or—the worst possible option—embarrassed for her, and she clenched her hands around her (dour) clutch.
When have you been here before?he’d asked as they’d walked toward the river, and that’s when she first heard it…the embarrassment. It was worse than the scolding disgust of hisGet up from thereon the plane, or the angry accusation of hissomething you saidearly this morning.
He’d asked her when she’d been here before as though he already knew.
As though he knew, and he feltsorryfor her.
It wasn’t as though he asked her nicely, or softly, or even with a gentle head-cock that might indicate sympathy. He said it the same way he said everything else, which meant he said it tersely, shrewdly; he said it like he had time for nothing but to rip out and hold in his hand the bloody, still-beating heart of any matter.
As she stood there across from him, Paris pressing tauntingly against her back, she realized what she would have to do before this already-awkward evening, and that was to face the city full-on, by herself.
So when she left him, she walked and walked—all along theSeine, from the Pont de Sully to the Trocadéro and back, her head up as she treated landmarks like Band-Aids to be ripped off, one by one, so nothing could strike her fresh on this boat cruise. By the time she stood as close as she could to the Eiffel Tower, she felt numb to it. Tired and hungry and thirsty, enough not to care about sweatily ducking into a small Carrefour City to buy an apple and a bag of chips and a big bottle of water, as though she was in a nameless town that had nothing else worth eating on offer.
She had not, of course, abandoned Emily so soon after her new promise—Layla texted her before getting too far into the walk, making sure Em and Michael were still safely ensconced in their requested alone time, asking whether Em would want to meet up after. This time, Emily replied immediately, a crypticWe’re talking.
“It’s like,toobig, am I right? Shipwreck big. Aren’t there only like…a dozen of us going on this?” Rosie continued.
Michael finally cleared his throat.
“We don’t have the whole boat,” he said as the car slowed to a stop beside a great behemoth of a building that was built close to the river, ultracontemporary, with a gigantic and jutting structure that wrapped around the front, a girded glass walkway that was shockingly lime green.
“What the fuck is this,” Griffin said, sort of under his breath. She chanced a glance and saw him staring skeptically out at the green structure. Frankly, she also felt a littleWhat the fuckabout it, but would not say that out loud.
“We kind of have the whole boat,” Emily chimed in, and Layla was glad to finally hear her speak, too. Since they’d all met in the lobby, Emily had been quiet, not a good start to keeping this whole situation hidden. So far, Rosie still seemed to be attributing Emily’s subdued mood to the champagne (“I swear to god I put like acannonball of bronzer on her,” Rosie had whispered to Layla, as though they were longtime coconspirators, “but she still looks like that Moët sucked out her soul”), but Rosie was not Robert or Manon MacKenzie, and Layla had to assumetheywould notice Emily was way off.
At least they won’t really notice you, then, a nasty little voice inside her said, and she felt herself wince.
This is not about you, her better angels scolded back.You are here for Emily, to be a sister to Emily. You will be the most normal you have ever been in your life, and you will buffer the hell out of this situation for the person who needs you.
“The top level is ours,” Emily added, and Layla looked again in the direction of the boat that awaited them on the banks. She could not, from here, see anyone milling around up there, but maybe that was because, on closer inspection, itwassort of shipwreck big.
Layla squinted at it, surprised. It was extravagant, and she’d never known the MacKenzies to be that. But she remembered what Em had said about theirinvestmentin all this, and felt a renewed pang of stress for her. This was so much pressure: this boat, this event, this week, this city.
This marriage, after the breakdown of Layla’s own had apparently upset the family so much.
“Well, how great!” she said, desperate to be cheerful. “So much space to spread out and see the views.”
She could sense Griffin turning his head to look at her, but she ignored him. Instead she focused on Emily, who looked over her shoulder and gave Layla a grateful smile.
Up front, Rosie was opening her door, shocking poor Matthieu, who said, “Attendez, s’il—” and then trailed off helplessly. Michaelfollowed suit, opening his own door and turning gallantly to help Emily out.
Which left Griffin and Layla stuck awkwardly, waiting for Matthieu to come around and release the seat so that they, too, could make their way out. Griffin was looking at his phone, and she stopped herself from rolling her eyes. But she thought,Guess this is you “acting normal.”
“It’s a school,” he said, puncturing her snide train of thought.
