“He was always a softie when it came to his nieces, and when they had kids he wassmitten. You might find it hard to believe now, but Penelope was a really cute kid.”
“No, that—” I laugh, imagining Penelope getting away with just about anything thanks to her heart-shaped face. “That I can definitely picture.”
“I thought planning the wedding together would make it feel like Alfie was doing it with us.”
The disappointment on the other end of the phone is a heavy silence, save for the heart rate machine’s steady beeping.
“But you’ve seen how that’s gone.” Louise sighs. “You want to know the craziest thing? When Pen told me that our top-of-the-line wedding planner—oh, what was her name?—had quit, I had the crazy thought that I would seemoreof her.” She laughs, which turns into a cough.
I’m turning her words over, a rather large nail snagging my thoughts. “Wait, Pen said shefiredMiri.”
“No, no. Miri sent me a very polite email saying that she could no longer support the wedding and offered a referral to a planner she thought would be a better fit.”
The ground is unsteady. I lean against the wall, my thoughts racing. “Why…why?”
“Miri kept it very cordial, but I suspect my niece said something, or several somethings, that were—shall we say—untoward.”
“Why didn’t you hire another planner?”
The other end of the phone is quiet, save for Louise’s breathing. Finally, Louise speaks. “She said that she had a friend who would do the same thing for free.”
The phone drops away from my ear. Frustration wells in my throat. It’s not the most earth-shattering news, but having someoneelsesay so plainly what I suspected heats up a heady cocktail of anger and embarrassment.
“Gem?” Louise’s voice is faint, sitting against my thigh.
“I’m—” I suck the emotion out of my voice. “I’m here.”
“I’m sorry to be the one to tell you that, dear.”
I don’t want consolation. I’m so sick of people feeling sorry for me. Something hardens inside me. The door to Sangrias and Syntax slams shut.
I shake my head. “It’s okay,” I say evenly, feeling far from myself. “Pen and I have a deal.” A deal I’m even more bent on honoring. If we have an agreement, then I’m not being used. I am in control. “Speaking of, let’s talk about the wedding.” My words are formal, curt. “There’s only one thing I need to talk to you about. The florals.”
Louise exhales a tired sigh. “I told her?—”
“Forget Penelope,” I say sharply. “For my sake, will you say yes to both?” I clutch the phone. “I need to accomplish this.”
I need to hold onto the thread Penelope is tugging toward a writing career.
I needto find an agent.
I need to make everything I’ve gone through mean something.
Louise must hear the desperation. “It’s that important to you, dear?” she asks softly.
“Yes,” I whisper, not sure exactly what we’re talking about anymore.
“Say no more, then.” Her words are tinged with sadness. “It’s done.”
“Thank you,” I say, waiting for the wash of relief to come. It doesn’t.
“Louise—” a muffled voice calls somewhere far away.
“That’s my cue. Thanks for calling, Gem.”
Louise hangs up, and I’m left alone, feeling sick. It’s the same residue that coated the inside of my mouth when Pen and I first made the agreement. I slide down the wall right there, my body deciding it’s an appropriate time for a hot flash. Instead of sticking my head in the freezer or sucking on frozen mango, I sit in it, wondering who I am becoming.
chapter
