“This one,” Coop said. She held the long, linen dress in the air, eyeing it appreciatively. It was an off-white dress with spaghetti straps and an empire waist. “Nora picked it up for me. I haven’t worn it yet.”
“I couldn’t,” I declined. It was a gift. I didn’t want to take the chance of staining it.
“Sure you can,” Coop disagreed. “Yours is wet.” Walking into the bathroom, she hooked it over the door. “There’s makeup remover in the vanity. Your mascara ran a little.”
She downplayed the state up my makeup. I looked like a junkie coming down off a marathon high. Plucking a cotton ball from the jar on the sink, I squeezed a little solution onto it, and began wiping my eyes. “So much for waterproof,” I complained.
“Waterproof is a misconception,” Paisley voiced. “Sure, it repels water, just not the chlorine in it. I hate chlorine.”
“For f-f-forty-five dollars a tube, it should repel the power of Satan.”
“Funny, I thought you wanted to marry him.” I turned, and found Paisley smirking, her eyes dancing with laughter.
I smiled back. “You know what they say, don’t you?”
“It’s better to laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints,” Coop chimed melodically, quoting Billy Joel. “The sinners are much more fun. Only the good die young.”
My smile widened, encouraged by Coop’s voice. “Oh my God, Coop! You sound f-f-fantastic!”
She shrugged and waved her hand. “I started voice therapy a couple weeks ago. I’m not allowed to really sing yet. We’re taking it ‘slow’.” She air-quoted the word with annoyance.
“Hey, you can’t rush perfection.”
“Pfft.” Coop waved me off again and ambled farther into the bedroom.
“She’s worried,” Paisley spelled out. “She swears her voice is different.”
“It is different,” Coop insisted.
Paisley abandoned the doorway to allay Coop’s fears.
Around the corner, the door opened and closed again. Em and Jess came into the room, each with a child in their arms. I wondered why all the company for changing a wet dress, but was too eager to meet Sophia Isabella to ask. She was a timid picture of olive skin and ebony curls. As she panned the room, taking in the strangers surrounding her, she rested her head against Em’s shoulder, hiding her face. One brown eye watched me curiously.
“Oh Em,” I cooed, stepping out of the bathroom. “She’s precious!”
“She’s a blessing.” My heart swelled as she craned her neck and pressed a kiss to the crown of Sophia’s head. “I’m so in love with her.”
“Is she adjusting?”
“She’s doing fantastic. I mean there are moments when she cries for her…him, but she sleeps through the night. She laughs. She plays. She eats healthy.”
“And Shane?”
Em laughed, her eyes sparkling with humor. “He’s adjusting.”
“Can I hold her?”
“She’s soaked. She just came out of the pool.”
“So did I.” I held my hands out. Em stepped closer. Sophia leaned toward me and held her arms out. I lifted her under the arms, wedged my arm under her butt. “Hi, precious!” She rewarded me by burying her face into my shoulder. I hugged her to me. “Oh, Em, I wanna keep her.”
“I’d sooner cut you,” Em promised. “She actually likes me. There’s no chance in hell I’m ever giving her up.”
“Whoa, Don Corleone,” I cautioned. “No need t-t-to get violent.”
Em shrugged, unperturbed. “She’s all mine.”
“You’d think I’d get something, a finder’s fee.”
Across the room, Coop shook her head. “I still can’t believe it. Even I—the Queen of Cosmic Intuition—couldn’t have imagined something this inconceivable.”
“I agree with Richard,” Jess added, “I think you’re all beautiful.”
“We should toast,” Coop suggested. Placing Brutus on the duvet, she rose from the bed and plucked a bottle of champagne from an ice bucket atop the dresser.
“You and Tate planning a private celebration t-tonight?” I asked. Awful convenient to have a bottle of chilled champagne at hand. Beside the basin, I counted six flutes. Perhaps she was planning a group event.
Coop blinked, and then smiled slowly. “Tate and I have a private celebration every night. When all three kids are sleeping at one time, I’d say it’s just cause for a glass of bubbly.”
“It’s a blessing when one is sleeping,” Jess agreed. “I can’t imagine dealing with three. I’ll toast to that.”
Coop popped the cork. Unlike the boys, she was able to do it without posing a danger to the room’s occupants. There was a small pop and a minimal loss of alcohol.
“We’re having Sophia baptized in two weeks,” Em spoke up. “Her father had her baptized, of course. But this ceremony will serve a few purposes. Part of her father’s stipulations were that she be raised in the Catholic faith, and that she will never know his identity. Hence, if we have her baptized again, our names will appear on the certificate. I would’ve had it done in any case. She’s having the second surgery in three weeks. It would give me a piece of mind to have her blessed beforehand. That said, Shane and I would like you to be her Godmother.”
“Me?” I said, taken aback. I thought surely she would ask Coop. They were best friends. More than best friends.
“Paisley doesn’t like kids,” Em explained, a wry smile twisting the edge of her lips. “And Coop wasn’t the one with the bright idea that made this all possible.”
“I’m not saying it again,” Paisley argued, though she did deign to explain her stance on childbearing. “I like kids; I just don’t want to raise them.”
“Do you see what I’m dealing with here?” Em scoffed. “Does she not see the incongruity of not wanting children and acting as a guardian and spiritual mentor to Sophia in the event of my death?”
“Well when you put it that way…” Paisley took a champagne flute from Coop’s hand and downed it in a few deep gulps, drowning out her chagrin.
“I wouldn’t have Sophia if not for you,” Em said in earnest. “You have a big heart to have suggested the adoption, considering the circumstances. I can’t think of anyone any better suited to fill the role.”
“In that case, I would love t-to,” I acquiesced. “I’m honored that you asked.”
Em wrapped me in a light embrace. “Don’t be so shocked, Mattie.”
“I’m sorry,” I apologized. “I just f-figured you would’ve asked Coop. She’s practically f-family.”
“What’re you talking about?” Em pinched my cheek in the true act of an Italian. “You’re family, too.”
Coop winked and passed me a flute of champagne. “Now let’s get back to that toast.”
“Wait,” I pleaded, grasping Coop’s hand. “I have t-to get something off my chest f-first.” It had to be done. I needed my conscience clear. Dropping my head, I hid my frown. “I never apologized f-for instigating the f-fight with Amanda,” I managed, my voice quavering. “If I hadn’t opened my mouth, you never would’ve been hurt. I just wanted t-to say I’m sorry.”
“We all have our moments of stupidity,” Em chastised, shocking me. That was a little harsh. My mouth popped open, aghast. “You’re obviously having yours right now.”
“If anything, I should apologize to you,” Coop argued. “You ended up in the hospital because the man she hired mistook you for me.”
“Still,” I pressed, “I’m just sorry I had any part in you getting hurt. It almost ended your career.”
“You didn’t,” Coop asserted. “So, you have no need to apologize. Furthermore, if I wouldn’t have gotten hurt, Jake never would’ve met Paisley, Tate’s parents wouldn’t have gotten back together, Em wouldn’t have Sophia…”
“How can you be so…accepting?”
“I’m in good health, and I can still sing,” Coop explained. “It doesn’t hurt that I married Tate. Or that Amanda Keller is behind bars. When I go to bed at night, I take comfort in the thought that she’s probably fending off some girl with summer teeth and a really bad perm. She’ll have a name like Destiny or…Candy.”
I bit back a smile. I suppose that was satisfying.
“She’s a drug mule, of course,” Coop continued. “Cousin Tiffany—pronounced Tiff-nay—comes to visit once a week. Hides a nice big rock of heroin in who-ville. Amanda—now known as Delilah—doesn’t have a problem getting it down. She has no gag reflex. Coming out the other end’s the problem. She’s too uptight. Good thing Candy keeps plenty of suppositories hidden in the loose post at the foot of the bed.”
“You have a vivid imagination,” I observed concernedly.
Coop smiled contritely. “Drives Tate nuts.”
“We all wonder what goes on in that head of yours when you go blank like you do.” Em shook her head in wonder. “I think I’m a little disturbed.”
“The toast,” Jess reminded us, changing the subject. “It’s supposed to be a day of celebration. Let’s check all delinquents and criminals at the door for the afternoon. Focus on engagements, babies, and family. Who wants to go first?”
“I will.” Em raised her glass. “To truly living, and not just surviving.”
“To reaching for the stars,” Coop added, “and touching them.”
Paisley. “To finding true love.”
I raised my glass. “To wishes coming true.”
“To Hautboy,” Jess concluded.
“To Hautboy,” we all agreed. Our glass clashed, filling the room with tinkling chimes and laughter. The champagne was crisp and citrusy. I took Jess’s suggestion to heart and pushed all thoughts of Amanda and Christian from my mind, refusing to let them sour a good bottle of bubbly, let alone my day.
Hiding behind her champagne, Coop giggled. It was strangely adventitious despite the levity. “Sorry,” she apologized, “I was thinking of all the attempts on my life—”
“She’s officially lost it,” Em worried. “There’re no longer any doubts when one laughs while referencing attempts on their life.”
“If I didn’t laugh, I’d cry,” Coop replied. “But if it eases your minds, I was recalling Paisley slipping in dog shit and falling flat on her ass. I just can’t get the picture out of my head.”
“Funny,” Paisley scoffed. “I was saving Em’s dogs.”
“The only thing my dogs need saving from is their own stupidity,” Em observed.
“The memory alone left a permanent stain on my skin,” Paisley complained. “Every time I think about it I have to wash my hands.” Resting her glass on the dresser, she headed for the bathroom to do just that. “You don’t have a nail brush, do you, Coop? Bleach?”
“You’re a nurse and you’re grossed out by dog poo,” Em protested. She followed it up with a muttered, “I clean it up almost every other day.”
“I wear gloves and a mask when I deal with patients,” Paisley explained. “I had it under my nails. It was in my hair. I washed it so many times, I thought it would be lavender by the time I got out of the shower.”
As Paisley disappeared into the bathroom, I looked down at Sophia, who was yawning widely. “Em, I think somebody’s t-tired. Maybe you should change her before she konks out.”
Em’s eyes softened affectionately. She lifted Sophia from my hip, where I was left with a large damp circle slightly darker than my already damp dress. It was only water dripping from her swim trunks, still saturated from the pool.
“You should change too,” Coop suggested. “Feel free to use the shower.”
“Get the chlorine out of your hair before it turns green,” Paisley agreed. “Ooh! Coop has the best mango conditioner! You have to try it!”
I looked at her worriedly. The girl had a serious obsession with her hair.
“What?” Paisley protested. “There were times when I had to share a bottle of watered down dish soap with the fourteen other people in my house. I appreciate the finer things like a quality hair product.”
“You should see her out shopping,” Em mused. Her eyes sparkled with humor. “She tests everything with such enthusiasm, the salesgirls flock the counters wielding merchandise like fans wield sharpies at a Hautboy concert.”
“I live on a budget,” Paisley defended. She smiled, pouring herself a fresh glass of champagne. It was her third. “But not much longer. I quit yesterday. Well, gave my notice.”
“Oh. My. God!” Coop exclaimed. “You’re serious?” She stood on her toes, barely able to contain her excitement.
Paisley nodded. “Jake’s been coaching me the past few months. You’re looking at the pianist—keyboardist for Serendipity.”
Coop squealed and choked Paisley in a hug.
“We’re going to need a nanny,” Em said, beaming a smile. “You’re not leaving me behind. Shane and I already discussed it. Sophia and I will be coming on the road. Family stays together.”
“You girls are in luck,” Jess declared. Flute in hand, she gestured in my direction. “You know who happens to have a degree in education?”
“Well, I don’t know about luck,” I objected lightly. I’d had big plans. High aspirations. If I was going to marry Carter Strickland and raise our children on the road, I wanted the credentials to do it. They wouldn’t have only musical talent; they’d have a proper education, too, if I could help it. “Luck, in my own opinion, is the guys meeting three amazing girls I can call friends. Our children will grow up together. Maybe their children. Yes, that is luck.”
“I’ll drink to that,” said Paisley, raising her glass.
“Right now, you’d drink to Em’s dogs taking a shit upwind.”
“I might,” Paisley admitted. “As long as they don’t shit in the middle of the lawn where I might step in it.” Coop snickered. I waited for Paisley’s rebuttal, but she giggled too. I supposed the few glasses of champagne took the sting out, allowing her to share Coop’s humor.
The rest of us joined them, their laughter infectious.
“It’s not funny,” she insisted finally. Fixing a scowl on her face, she headed back into the bathroom to wash her hands again. She raised her hands, smelled her fingers. “I swear I can still smell it.”
“Her psychosis must be transmittable,” Em said, her nose screwing up. “I swear I can smell it too.” She finished dressing Sophia, who promptly rolled and closed her eyes, snuggling into Coop’s duvet for a nap. Suddenly, Em gasped, raised her hand to her mouth. “Merda! Is that what I think it is?”
We all followed Em’s line of sight. There was a tiny Brutus poop in the center of Coops pillow. “Oh my God,” I exclaimed. “Coop, I’m so sorry. I’ll clean it up.” I hurried into the bathroom for some toilet paper, passing Paisley on the way out.
As I unwound a superfluous amount of toilet paper from the roll, I heard Paisley belt out a laugh. “That is absolutely priceless—no, it’s karma for laughing at me! Ha!”
Em joined her, giggling. “It’s so tiny. Looks like one of those chocolates the hotel leaves. It should have a mini cupcake liner beneath it.”
“Ew,” Paisley complained. “That’s disgusting.”
Stepping out of the bathroom, I wadded the toilet paper in my hand, and, with great care, cleaned Brutus’s poo from Coop’s pillow. “Might want to change the cover on that.”
“Or burn it altogether,” Paisley suggested. “Probably has parasites all over it now.”
“No bother,” Coop dismissed. She began tugging the pillow case from the pillow. “It’s Tate’s pillow. Besides, we have supercalafragilisticanitmicrobial pillow protectors.”
“My dog doesn’t have parasites,” I assured. Still, just to torture Paisley, I unfolded the layers of tissue and peeked inside. Wrinkling my nose, I distanced the tissue from my face. “You gave me the right dosage worm medicine, Jess, right?”
“I’ve been a vet for over twenty years. I gave you the right dosage.”
“Well, do these look likes worms to you?” I held out the tissue, though nothing was exposed. It was all a ruse. Jess lowered her head and peered closely, biting back a smile.
“Maybe he needs a second dose.”
“Ew,” I said. “That actually is gross.” Turning, I wadded the tissue again. As I made my way toward the bathroom, I stubbed my toe on the edge of the dresser. I fell forward, the tissue flying from my hand. Paisley’s eye widened. She scrambled to get out of the way, stumbling over her own two feet. She grasped the curtains in an attempt to remain upright, but took them and the rod down with her.
Coop ran to my aid first. “That damn chest! I told Tate that wasn’t a good place for it! You’d think he’d move it after he broke his toe…”
I held my chest, shaking with soundless laughter. I hadn’t actually stubbed my toe. It was all part of the ruse. Paisley’s eyebrows furrowed, staring at me with indignity. She pushed the curtains from her lap. I held up my hand, showed her the balled up tissue still in my hand. The other was empty. It took only a moment for her to realize it was a joke.
“You’re such a bitch.”
“Come on—it was ffffunny!” I challenged. “Admit it! You totally ffffreaked!”
Em snorted, attracting our attention. She was laughing, the kind of laugh that was soundless, while full-fledged. Another moment passed while I stared, amused. She finally came up for air, and snorted again, trying to stifle her laughter. When at last she could no longer contain herself, she guffawed, tears springing from her eyes.
Jess, too, had broken down into laughter. She turned, facing the wall in an attempt to hide her own amusement. The effort was in vain. She buckled shortly after Em, her silent racks of laughter giving way to howling cries. It was a chain reaction. Beside me, Coop joined in, capitulating to the ensuing hilarity. Though, her peals of laughter were soft and melodic.
“Amazing,” Paisley griped. “I’ve been the subject of your amusement twice in the span of an hour. I don’t know why I’m even friends with you all.” She didn’t mean it. She was sore.
Stepping toward her, I extended my hand to help her up. She looked at it and rolled her eyes, the corner of her mouth quirked in a smirk. “Don’t be offended if I don’t accept. Until after you wash your hands, at least.”
“My dog doesn’t actually have worms,” I assured, though it did little to comfort her. She waved a hand, hoisting herself up off the floor. Looked at the curtains in her hands, and then up at the brackets above the window.
“I can help you with that,” I offered. I had a good six inches’ height on her. The ceilings were high. Even with a footstool, she probably wouldn’t reach.
“I’ve got it,” Paisley declined.
“You should get changed,” Coop added, quickly gathering her wits. “Your dress is still damp. Paisley and I can handle this.”
“It’ll only take a minute,” I assured. Grabbing the ottoman, I set in in front of the window and stepped up. Coop and Paisley quickly raised the curtain rod, but I captured a glimpse of the backyard, which was swarming with people. Lifting my hand, I pushed the rod down, peered curiously over the top. “What’s going on out there?”
There was a pergola off to the left, and a table along the side of the house, both bordering the large flagstone patio. There were several men and women placing urns of flowers throughout the yard. Others were placing chaffers of food onto the table. Yet more were stringing lights from the house to the fence and back again in neat little rows. As I gaped, more people came into the yard with ropes of garland draped over their arms. Another carried a large chandelier. Two others carried lengths of white fabric toward the pergola.
“He said something small and intimate,” Coop explained. “The four of us made a million calls—and I mean a million—to get everything on such short notice.”
Jesus Christ on a crutch.
It was my wedding.