Seven days until the big day
Do you really have to go to Humboldt for the weekend?” The next morning I sat cross-legged on our bed, once again wearing one of Dylan’s button-down shirts, collar askew, and tea in hand. He was walking in and out of the closet as he talked to me and dressed for the day.
“Are you sure you won’t come with me?” he replied, eyebrow raised, as he pulled on his jeans.
I shook my head no, but the truth was, I wanted to go. My body wanted to. I was horny as hell, and frankly I missed my husband. But I also needed to resist. If I went to Humboldt, there was zero doubt in my mind that Dylan would handcuff me to our bed there and force me to come until I went into labor. In another universe that sounded like heaven, but one of us had to be the responsible one and at least try to make it through the wedding without having this baby.
“Damsel, I haven’t been all summer, and Mrs. Barnes called this morning—that tenant with the tea shop is having some kind of issue. Between that and the changes we’ve agreed to make in accordance with the Historic Houses Association, there’s much to be done before the baby comes. I’ll be there until late tomorrow, I’m afraid.” He was now sitting on the edge of the bed and lacing his shoes. “Are you sure you don’t want me to take the kids? They could run around the gardens?”
“No, it’s okay. Molly promised them she’d bake cookies with them today, and then something about pretending to be explorers in Hyde Park.” I reached out and ran my finger down his arm, drawing soft circles near his wrist.
He looked at me skeptically. “You sure you want to start that, damsel?” He shifted and started to climb towards me on the bed. He took my tea and placed it on the bedside table, then grabbed my breast through my shirt and started to kiss me. I groaned and leaned back against the headboard, receiving him, a hair away from giving in completely.
But then he pulled back. “I’m happy to continue, baby, as you know, but Daphne should be arriving any minute.”
“What? No,” I said, looking at my phone to consult the date. “She’s not supposed to come until tomorrow.” Daphne had planned a visit for the week leading up to my due date. We’d figured if I was still pregnant, she’d keep me company watching movies, going for walks, and trying to self-induce labor. And if I’d had the baby, she offered to talk Eleanor and Aiden to our other country house, what I called the “hideaway,” and give us time with our new daughter.
Dylan just shrugged and wouldn’t meet my gaze as he dug through the tray on his bureau for his sunglasses.
“You changed her flight, didn’t you? Because you’re going to Humboldt?”
“Safety in numbers, baby. The more people around who love you, the better.” I shook my head, but I knew he didn’t give a damn about whether I approved or not. And just as he leaned over to give me another kiss, the doorbell rang.
I leaped out of bed, or came as close to leaping as possible in my current state. I wanted to run down the stairs, but in the absence of doing any real running, I walked as quickly as possible.
After greetings, and hugs, and freshly poured cups of coffee, Daphne and I sent Dylan on his way and took up residence on the couch.
“Okay, Lyd. Fill me in,” she began, wrapping her hands around her mug and taking a bite out of her croissant. “Please explain how, in a matter of a few weeks, you have become the matron of honor in the royal wedding of the century. I freaking saw your face on People magazine! In the supermarket!”
It was the perfect start to the weekend. We didn’t leave that couch for two hours as we caught each other up. Daphne had stories about our college friends and at least twenty tales of her dating escapades that I still hadn’t heard yet.
“I’m swearing off dating apps,” she declared, making a sweeping motion with her arms and sporting a dismissive expression for emphasis.
“Why? I asked, laughing.
She groaned and rolled her head back. “Don’t even get me started. There was one guy—he seemed perfect. His profile said he was an astronomer—”
“Hot,” I interjected.
“Right?” she confirmed. “He had all these sweet lofty things to say about stars and planets in our messages, and he looked superhot. Like sure, maybe he was a little on the boyish side in terms of looks, but totally hot, in like a young Matt Damon kind of way. He said he was thirty-five, but when we met up…Lyd, there was no way he was thirty-five. So I press him and press him, and finally he admits to being seventeen!”
My mouth dropped. “No!”
“Yes! Apparently he was testing out some theory of deception for his AP psychology class.”
“Oh, Daph,” I said, laughing as sympathetically as I could.
“After that guy—like, right after I left the coffee shop—I went to a bar just determined to not be me,” she said emphatically.
“Not you?” I asked.
“Not me. Lyd, I’m just sick of being this person—this thirty-year-old single lawyer who can’t find someone who makes her feel anything. So after I told Junior to go home and do his goddamn homework, I went across the street to the bar I never go to. I saw this outrageously hot guy. Pretended to be a hippie about to go work for the Peace Corps—”
“You did not—”
“I did. I told him this big story about how I just needed one last thrill stateside before I left for Southeast Asia for two years. Went back to his place, and had what was hands down the best sex of my life.”
“Seriously?” I asked hopefully. This story was getting good.
“Seriously. But, Lydia, leave it to me to have backed myself into a corner with a totally pointless lie. Like obviously I can never see him again. Now I’m a totally insane liar!” She threw her hands up in the air, clearly resigned to her colossal bad luck.
“Fair point,” I conceded, chuckling at her fate.
“Needless to say, when I ran into him at Starbucks a month later, on my way to court, I literally ran out of there like the place was on fire. Completely humiliating.”
I shook my head, laughing again. “Okay, so maybe a break from dating,” I said, trying to stave off more laughter at the situation.
After more tales of New York, I filled her in on every bizarre royal wedding detail, like Zach’s four suits and Caroline’s special bouquet—apparently it would have fresh flowers from every country in the Commonwealth. I was glad it wasn’t my job to get orchids flown in from India.
For lunch we meandered up the road to my favorite London pub, the Holly Bush, and took up residence in a booth for the remainder of the afternoon. No matter how many close friends I had in London, there would always be something special about the friends who’d known me the longest. Daphne had seen me through my worst, and when she came to visit, my home felt even more like home.