“Also typical.” Ian sat across from her and bit off another chunk of his bagel. “But continue.”
“From what I’ve been told, she wants Jay, my boss, and she sees me as a threat.”
“Like a love triangle thing? Oh man.”
“Yeah. Though I don’t know why she’s interested. Jay is one of the most uptight stress-cases I’ve ever met.”
“But not ugly.”
She should have said ugly, even though Jay was anything but. “He’s gorgeous, okay?”
Ian laughed. “You’re in so much trouble, Becca. Even more than I am.”
“You’re in trouble?”
Ian’s face turned serious, which didn’t happen often. “That’s not exactly the way I wanted to present the news to you, but yeah. I’m sort of … engaged.”
Rebecca froze. It was time to be supportive, but the news filled her with dread. “You asked Winnie to marry you?”
“She gave me an ultimatum. Either marry her, or we break up. I love her, Becca. And she’s right. We either need to make this work or end it.”
That was just about the stupidest thing Rebecca had ever heard, but she didn’t say that. “Who else knows?”Don’t say Grandma.
“Um, Mom and Dad, Aunt Dora, and Grandma. I told them all last night.”
Of course. “Are they excited?”
“That would be an understatement. Grandma’s already called Winnie to talk wedding plans.”
“But her parents are loaded, aren’t they? Please tell me Grandma’s not paying for this.”
Ian leaned forward. “The last movie Winnie’s dad produced was a dud, and he invested a lot of his own money. So, he’s temporarily strapped. And you know Grandma. She said she’d be happy to do it. I don’t care either way, but I know Winnie wants something really nice and elegant. Her first marriage was at some Vegas impulse chapel. She was in jeans.”
That picture was not helping the situation. She got up and went to browse the fridge for herself, a new kind of stress attacking her already worn out mind. She grabbed a jar of sweet pickles and sat back down with them. After wrestling with the jar for a few seconds, she handed it over to Ian.
He opened it easily and handed them back. “I don’t know how you can eat sweet ones. It’s dill or nothing for me.”
“Do you remember my friend Anaya who lived across the street when we were growing up? Her mom pickled everything. I just learned to like them in every variety.”
Ian watched her take a bite and shuddered. “You just never wanted to be home.”
“That, too. Anaya’s parents didn’t fight all the time.” Rebecca closed the jar after taking one out and stared across at him. “Don’t you worry about ending up like them?”
“Like Mom and Dad?” Ian shrugged. “They finally decided nobody else was going to put up with them and worked it out. Maybe Winnie and I will end up the same way.”
If Ian was content with a rocky marriage, then there was nothing Rebecca could say to convince him otherwise.
After he left, she cleaned the kitchen and packed up everything she would need for the next day, setting out sensible shoes she could stand in, and ironing the dress she’d be wearing for Betty and George’s wedding. She planned to be in bed at nine. She got a call from Jay at eight-thirty.
