“So what do you think? I had an off-the-shoulder swing dress I was going to wear for the shower, but I like the vibe of this one,” Tennyson said, dashing away her regrets. Because regrets were always there. They were in the faint lines she tried like hell to erase on her face, in the memories that refused to leave her alone, in the check she wrote every month.
“I like this one. I wouldn’t think that color would do well on you, but it’s nice. And it doesn’t look like you’re a teenager,” Melanie said.
“Gee, thanks.”
“You know, you’re prettier when you don’t try so hard, Tennyson.”
“And you’re prettier when you stop trying to hide yourself.” Tennyson looked at Melanie in the mirror. “Get the Carolina Herrera. You look good in it.”
Melanie’s eyes brightened. “You think so? I’m going out of town with Kit, and a new dress might be nice.”
“When?”
“At the end of next week. Right before the shower. Kit has a conference in Destin, and I’m going down for a few days,” Melanie said, looking at her in the reflection of the mirror. “You don’t need help with the shower, do you?”
Melanie’s expression was sincere, the way it had always been. If someone needed help with something, from cleaning her room and making spirit goody bags to volunteering as the designated driver, Melanie had always been willing to pitch in and help. But then Tennyson could see in Melanie’s face that she’d forgotten they weren’t friends and were instead enemies because she frowned, shook her head, and stepped away.
“I’m paying Marc Mallow enough that everything should be taken care of. But it’s nice of you to ask. I want Emma and Andrew to enjoy being showered with gifts and well wishes. They’re our kids.”
For a moment their eyes met in the reflection of the mirror. Melanie looked like she wanted to say something. Now was the time for Tennyson to apologize. To say she shouldn’t have done what she did. She opened her mouth, but something shifted in Melanie’s eyes. Something hard returned, and the moment was over.
Melanie turned away. “They’ll have other wedding showers. My book club and a few of the moms from the PTA are doing a Rock Around the Clock shower.”
“I know. Marc told me that one of her friends called about the bachelorette party, and he had a brilliant idea.” Tennyson tapped the fastener on the nape of her neck. “Would you?”
Wordlessly, Melanie reached out and unzipped her, retreating to her own dressing room as if she’d slipped up too much and now had to gather herself and mount her normal defensiveness.
This was what they had come to—two former friends who could never find their way back to one another. Because of a man. Because of ego. Because one of them had destroyed what they’d been with words that should have never seen the light of day.
It was something Tennyson couldn’t change.
No matter how much she wished she could.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Melanie sat out in the driveway of her mother’s house, checking the time on her phone and tapping on the steering wheel. Her mother’s gardener was pulling out the scraggly snapdragons that should have gone weeks ago and replacing them with jolly red begonias. The June sun had gotten warm quickly, reminding her she needed to pick up some sunscreen before she headed to the beach in a few days. She didn’t need to go to the bridal shower looking like a lobster.
Not to mention she’d found no swimsuits on sale in her size. Which meant she’d paid full price for the stupid one-piece she’d be taking to the beach. Of course, she didn’t feel too guilty because she hadn’t had a new swimsuit in five years, and the elastic was shot in her old one, anyway. Her credit card bill would be astronomical this month since she’d bought the Carolina Herrera dress on the Dallas trip, but damn it, she deserved a few nice things. No use in the money she and Kit had being hoarded away for her kids to squander.
She tooted her horn.
Where was Hillary? They had to be at Marc Mallow’s office at two. He’d squeezed the cake tasting in between two other appointments and made it clear he appreciated promptness.
Finally, the door opened, and her sister emerged. She wore a long, loose dress, and her hair had been curled. Hillary’s thin body made Melanie wince every time she saw her sister.
She noted Hillary didn’t have her purse and came around to the driver’s side. Melanie rolled down the window, knowing what was coming. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
Hillary looked around as if she’d stumbled outside naked and photographers lurked in the bushes. “Uh, why don’t you go on ahead without me? I’m just not feeling very festive today, and I don’t want to ruin the whole cake-tasting thing.”
Disappointment thunked in Melanie’s stomach. Her sister wasn’t coming with her. “I don’t understand. I thought you wanted to do this with me and Emma? Is it because we’re tasting cake?”
“No,” Hillary said with a wave of her spidery hand. In the afternoon light, her sister’s gauntness seemed more pronounced. Her once luxurious hair was wispy frizz, her bones so prominent it hurt to think about how she rested upon them, and her once bright-blue eyes had sunken into dullness. Hillary had become a ghastly shadow of herself. It made Melanie’s heart squeeze so hard that tears threatened. “I want to go, but I just . . . I can’t, Melly bean. I know you don’t understand, but . . .”
Hillary seemed to not be able to find the words.
And Melanie didn’t have the words to make her sister feel better about her inability to show up. “It’s fine.”
But it wasn’t. It was just something Melanie said because being angry that her sister couldn’t put anyone else in front of her fears or being furious that Hillary was so powerless against her diseases wasn’t going to change anything. Her frustrations would serve only to drive her sister further away from her, and at present she felt as disconnected as she had ever been from her.
“I’m sorry, Mel. I am. I love you and Emma, and I thought I could go, but I . . . just can’t.”
Melanie swallowed down the gigantic lump in her throat, unshed tears still threatening. She’d been excited to have Hillary involved in some way, another buffer against Tennyson’s steamroller of “fabulous” ideas. She’d thought Hillary would be able to help her with the wedding, allowing them to connect, make memories, build something strong enough to ground her sister in wanting to get better. She knew it was stupid to think that, but she so wanted her old sister back. “I understand. I wish you could come today. But you’ll be at the shower next weekend, right? It’s at Tennyson’s house and . . . you know.”
Hillary nodded. “I know. Not going to be easy, but if I remember Tennyson, I’m sure there will be lots going on, so it won’t feel like you’re entering the enemy’s camp.”
“I better go,” Melanie said, glancing at the clock radio. “I’m going to be late as it is.”
“I’m sorry,” Hillary said, shading her eyes.
Melanie needed to talk to her mother about getting Hillary a complete health workup and ensure she was still going to her therapy appointments. Hillary had become an expert at hiding her “sins.” Melanie glanced at her sister’s knuckles for signs she’d been purging. From her angle she couldn’t tell.