“That was some party, huh.”
Brea just nodded. When she walked quickly past me to grab another piece of ribbon, I made a move to kiss her, but Brea practically jumped out of the way.
“No—not now.”
“Shoo, Mark.” Liz said. “I need to put on the other dress.”
I fled back to my condo.
“I think I fucked up,” I said to Wes.
He was playing a complicated game of fetch with the dogs. Kal knew the rules, but Beowulf hadn’t quite gotten the hang of it and would snatch the tennis ball and run wildly around the room until he hit a piece of furniture or Wes was able to wrestle the ball away from him.
“It’s the wedding,” Wes said. “Seriously, relax. She was all over you yesterday.”
“What if it’s a sign? What if there was something big I’m missing?” I said, starting to pace around the room.
Wes didn’t seem convinced. “Brea seems pretty straightforward.”
“What about her twin? Did she cheat and is feeling guilty? Did I do something?” I wondered.
Wes sighed. “You shouldn’t invite trouble.”
“I have to analyze this from every angle. I need to be vigilant.”
Wes patted me on the shoulder. “Seriously, Mark, relax. You’ve been so happy since Brea has come into your life. Just enjoy it. She’s probably hung over and stressed because Liz is about to pop. Hell, I’m stressed. If you need something to worry about, why don’t you call your mom and help her worry about the rehearsal dinner.”
“Fuck.”
“She wants to go over the final details with someone. I don’t think your dad wants to hear it, and youarethe best man.”
I didn’t want to deal with my mother. Instead, I texted Brea to come downstairs—if she had time, of course—but received no response.
She’s working. People work. I bet a few months from now, she’s going to be mad at you if you aren’t immediately answering your phone because you’re in the middle of a big presentation. She’s a seamstress, and this is two days before the wedding. Just cool it.
Someone knocked on the door, and I practically raced Beowulf to see who it was.
“Oh,” I said dejectedly when I opened the door. “Hey, Mom.”
“‘Hey, Mom’?” she repeated, raising an eyebrow. “I hope you greet the guests better than that at the rehearsal dinner tomorrow.” She walked into my condo, toting the oversized planner that she used to make her event notes.
“Good, Wes is here.”
My cousin grimaced.
“Let’s go over the program,” Nancy said. “We need to strategize to make sure your grandfather doesn’t get up there and start a thirty-minute speech.”
All through the drawn-out meeting for the rehearsal dinner, I tried to put Brea out of my mind. But I couldn’t. She didn’t call. She didn’t text. And when I went to bed that night, it felt cold and empty without her.
48
Brea
“You’ve been having sex with your half brother?” Amy screeched that evening. We were at the Weddings in the City office. Everyone was in go-mode for Liz’s wedding in less than forty-eight hours, but they had taken a break to come talk me off a ledge.
“I can’t believe it. I felt like I was going to vomit all day,” I said with a shudder and wrapped my arms around myself.
“I hope you’re not pregnant,” Elsie said.
