“I am sorry for what happened. I shouldn’t have brought her.” Tennyson knew this was true. Thing was, she’d sort of fallen in love with the little dog. Never before had she wanted a pet. Growing up in a large family, she’d been surrounded by too many animals. As the youngest child, the walking and feeding always seemed to fall to her. After a while, she got tired of manning the pooper-scooper and cleaning the litter box. It had put her off animals, and since she’d traveled so much over the past fifteen or so years, she hadn’t wanted to feel tied down. But she had forgotten how nice it was to have their weight on her lap or the snuggly goodness of their affection. Prada’s little doggy kisses and adorable excitement at seeing her when she entered the room had done a lot to lessen Tennyson’s irritation over the ruined rug in her living room.
Prada was at least a partial cure for her loneliness.
Of course, she wasn’t really lonely. She didn’t miss her ex-husband much. Robert had been gone on business a lot, anyway. Once Andrew had graduated and taken himself off to the University of Arkansas, she’d had plenty of luncheons and other engagements to fill her time when her husband was traveling (and doing his secretary). She visited Andrew in Fayetteville, gamely trying to hike with him and enjoy the wonders of nature. Try was the key word. She didn’t get the obsession he had with kayaking the Buffalo River or scaling cliffs at the various state parks. So when Emma came along and was more interested in shopping and lunching, she marked herself lucky to gain an ally against mosquitos and ugly hiking boots. Her life had felt very full. But then after the divorce was final, and she was truly alone and newly single in Manhattan, she’d felt like an imposter trying to reclaim a life she wasn’t sure she wanted anymore.
So maybe that was why she was here—a place where she had once felt very real. Once upon a time she’d belonged here. Once upon a time she’d been young, confident, and ready to take the world by storm. Tennyson had been a girl who had dreams, goals, and a safe place to rest her head each night. Maybe she wanted that part of herself back, the one that believed she still had something to give the world. Just what that was she wasn’t certain, but she was willing to figure it out as she went.
Or maybe deep down beneath the expensive breast implants and Botox, she wanted to fix what was really broken. The one mistake she hadn’t been able to fix, cover up, or atone for.
She’d broken a promise and hurt Melanie. In the moment, she hadn’t cared. Maybe she still didn’t. Or did. She wasn’t sure about anything when it came to her old friend.
Melanie didn’t speak. Instead she sucked on the cancer stick and blew out hazy clouds against the brilliance of the night sky.
“Did you hear me?” Tennyson asked.
“I did. I don’t know whether to say okay or just gripe some more because that feels better.”
Tennyson laughed because she didn’t know what else to do. Things were definitely awkward between them, but that was to be expected. After all, Melanie had stolen Kit, and then Tennyson had gotten a little drunk at their stupid wedding and lit a fire that had burned their friendship to the ground. Afterward, there weren’t even embers. Just ashes.
“Why are you laughing? None of this is funny,” Melanie said.
Tennyson knew Melanie wasn’t talking about the disaster of the cake and dogs. She meant the whole engagement thing. She’d sensed Melanie’s displeasure when they’d met for the graduation dinner. She wasn’t sure if it was because Andrew and Emma were so young or if it was because they would now be attached to one another forever . . . or however long the marriage lasted. Tennyson had learned to doubt “till death do you part.”
But Melanie’s anger wasn’t fair to Emma and Andrew. After all, their children didn’t know about what had happened between her and Melanie. Or at least she hadn’t told them. When Tennyson had discovered Emma was Kit and Melanie’s daughter, she’d been very careful to say they’d once been friends but had lost touch as people did before the internet and smartphones. She didn’t say it was intentional, of course.
Perhaps the truth would have been better, but she didn’t want to malign Melanie to her daughter. How was she supposed to tell Emma that Melanie had stolen Kit and that she’d been so angry about it that she had told a secret she’d promised not to tell . . . to everyone.
It was her circus, but she wasn’t feeding that monkey.
On a not so emotional level, Tennyson understood what had happened between Melanie and Kit when they went off to college together. Disassociation was an acting technique she’d often applied to study the actions and emotions of characters. Applying that, she knew the following:
Fact one: Kit was Kit—wholly gorgeous with charm and an aw-shucks attitude that drew people like hummingbirds to a hibiscus.
Fact two: Melanie had always had a thing for Kit. Tennyson had always known this and couldn’t fault her friend because Kit was easy to love, and half the teen girls in three parishes had the hots for him.
Fact three: Tennyson had broken up with Kit and left Shreveport. She’d chosen her potential career over love.
Fact four: Kit and Melanie had been lonely. And drunk. And . . . well, she knew what happened when one mixed loneliness and alcohol.
The only thing was—Tennyson had truly believed she was special to Kit and that he would choose her over Melanie every day of the week.
She’d been wrong. In her newly turned nineteen-year-old head, she believed she could leave Shreveport, catch her star, and bring a still-besotted-with-her Kit to NYC. Once he arrived, he’d propose to her with a giant diamond, and they would go on to live their most fabulous lives, basking in her fame and success. Made total sense back then. But the truth was nineteen-year-old girls could never imagine their life going any other way than what they’d envisioned. They could never foresee double lines on a pregnancy test or hearing no from every casting agent from Broadway to community theatre in Jersey. They couldn’t imagine not getting the happily ever after they thought they deserved.
All those dumb inspirational posters had sold them a load of crap. Except the “hang in there” one with the kitten. That one was totally worth the $5.99 she’d spent at Spencer’s.
When Tennyson had come home for fall break after having spent all summer and fall in Manhattan, everything had been fine. She, Kit, and Melanie fell into what they’d always been, with Kit doting on her and Melanie being their third wheel. But when she’d come home for Christmas, she’d known something was wrong. Her boyfriend and her best friend looked guilty. Correction: Melanie looked guilty. Finally, drunk on Zima at a New Year’s Eve party, Melanie had admitted that she and Kit had (gasp!) kissed after the fall party. She was sorry. Tears ensued. Tennyson may have slapped her best friend, and in turn, Melanie had begged Tennyson to forgive her and promised it would never happen again. Kit seemed to be unaware that Tennyson knew he’d made a mistake with Melanie. His kisses were just as sweet, but Tennyson knew deep down things were changing, and she was afraid.
When she was in Manhattan, her old life was far away, but when she was home, she wasn’t ready to let Kit go. She did everything she could to bind Kit to her, even going all the way with him, something he’d been begging her for since they’d started dating in high school. It had been beautiful, just what she’d imagined even though she’d promised she wouldn’t have sex until she was married. She’d signed that pledge and worn the purity ring her daddy had given her when she’d turned sixteen. Of course, she’d upheld that vow until that night . . . unless oral counted. The lines were blurry on if going down on one another was really sex.