“Why isn’t Gabriella helping you? She’s the maid of honor,” I pointed out. With all her free time.
I was totally not bitter about it, by the way.
“She wanted to, but then she had to rush into the city to find a nice dress for a black tie charity event Cruz is attending. He didn’t actually invite her, but you know men. So forgetful. You’re not mad, are you?”
Trinity glanced at me from the corner of her eye, licking the icing from a soggy donut.
I never could say no to my baby sister, and she knew it. I’d pluck the moon and all the stars from the sky just to put a smile on her face. She’d been there for me the first five years of Bear’s life and served as a second mother to him.
“No.” I grabbed one of the baskets we’d used for the kits and began stuffing it to get a head start. “Not at all.”
“Good. Because I had no idea you were working today.”
This, I knew, was a lie.
“And also, Gabriella has been giving me super weird vibes, and I just don’t want the drama. I know she’s just being immature, but I’m glad you’re the bigger person.”
This, unfortunately, was not a lie.
Gabby, Trinity’s best friend, had never liked me. But she especially hadn’t liked me ever since she had started dating Mr. Perfect. I had no idea why, and at this point in life, I didn’t care.
Some people were simply destined not to like you. If they didn’t have a good enough reason, I thought you should let them. As the old saying went, whatever people thought of me was none of my business.
Although, in Gabriella’s case, it truly was, because she seemed to avoid any pre-wedding event where I was included.
“It’s fine. Everything is fine,” I repeated firmly. I continued to fill the baskets with nail polish and fluffy socks and bath bombs while Trinity scrutinized me, licking donuts and pondering the situation with a somber expression.
“Good. Ugh, Nessy, you’re such a lifesaver. You have no idea how stressed I am about this whole wedding. The preparations, the fittings, the last-minute changes…it’s just too much. I know I should be grateful, but this cruise comes at such an inconvenient time. I have so much to work on. Not to mention I just know how it’s going to play out. Mr. and Mrs. Costello are going to look down at us the entire time. There’s no pacifying Catherine Costello.”
Trinity’s lips puckered, and it occurred to me that she hadn’t even asked me how I was doing. Or if something new was going on in my life. Or, you know, if my ex had happened to show up after thirteen years of radio silence and turn my life upside down.
“You know I joined the Ladies who Brunch church committee just to impress her? Catherine, I mean. I thought she’d be there every week. She doesn’t even show up, Nessy. She just throws money at the foundation every month to keep her title,” Trinity accused.
I was about to tell her she didn’t need to make her future mother-in-law her best friend when it was apparent Catherine Costello was colder than a fish in a frozen pond, when the door flung open and Mom rushed in, her gazillion necklaces crashing into one another in a symphony of ill-advised fashion.
“I’m here. I’m here. Sorry I was late. I had to interrogate Mrs. Patel about the macaron recipe to accommodate everyone’s allergies.”
My mother hurried inside, her round face flushed, her graying hair a nest atop her head.
She looked eons less put-together than the glamorous Catherine Costello, who only had a handful of responsibilities, which included keeping up appearances by looking like a gracefully-aging movie star, looking appropriately scandalized when a popular food chain tried to open a branch in Fairhope and ruin what locals referred to as the “town’s authenticity”, and giving sizable donations to church functions in order to avoid participating.
“Nessy! You’re here. Have you started with the kits? We don’t have much time. I need to get your sister to her aesthetician appointment. Apparently, it’s best to get the glow facial a few weeks in advance.”
“I’m on it.” I made a show of waving one of the polishes in my hand.
“Good.” Mom wrinkled her nose when she saw the donut pack. She flipped it closed and picked it up between her fingernails, like it was contaminated. “No one needs these, Nessy. That was completely unnecessary. Your sister’s trying to lose weight—are you trying to sabotage her weight loss?”
“My sister looks like she hasn’t seen a sandwich since 1999.”
“Do you mind finishing up here and adding the macarons to the bags while I take your sister to get her blackheads removed? Oh, and each macaron needs to be individually cellophane-wrapped.”
They were leaving me to do all of this by myself? Alone?
“Of course I don’t mind,” I heard myself say through the strong Cinderella vibes.
I knew my family loved me. But I also knew they were, at this point, completely shuttered to what I was going through.
“You’re a star, Ness. Get dressed, honey.”
Mom patted Trinity’s shoulder on her way to the fridge to grab the iced tea Dad had made for her before he went fishing earlier that morning.
My father, bless his heart, was as involved in family matters as I was invested in the condition of mole rats in Uzbekistan. To sum it up, he showed up to important events when we asked him to.
“How’s Bear, Nessy?” Mom asked, finally showing interest in something in my life.
“He’s good.” I looked up from the kit I was making. “Actually, I—”
“I want to take him to Hanes Mall next week. Get him a new backpack and perhaps a few pairs of jeans. His pants fall down his butt. Did you know that?”
Intentionally so, but give it your best shot changing his style, Mom.
“He’ll love that,” I chirped. “Anyway, you won’t believe what—”
“I think he’ll grow to be as tall as his father. The only good thing that useless man had to offer was his height.”
“Ha! Well, speaking of Rob—” I tried a third time, a little more aggressively.
Trinity breezed back downstairs wearing a summery dress. A new, tight-knit braid was flung across her shoulder, and she was wearing some mascara, blush, and lip gloss.
“Well, see you later, Nessy. Thanks for doing all the gift bags for me!”
“Oh, and honey, make sure to tidy up afterwards,” Mom called. “I’m going to have my hands full when I come back, what with getting the house ready for the party.”
They closed the door with a slam, just as my phone lit up with a new message. It came from an unrecognized number, with an Arizona area code.
Come on, Nessy. Are you going to let me see my son or what?
Not in this life, gasshole.
Two weeks later.
Gabriella Holland was a bad idea.
I knew that the night I’d met her at that bar.
The same night I took her home.
And the morning after it, too, when she casually examined the family pictures that hung on my living room wall, naked as the day she was born, and dropped the bomb that she was actually from Fairhope, too.
That her best friend, Trinity, was working at my clinic, and her mother would be delighted to know we knew each other. Closely.