Chapter Seven

Georgie was not a tea sandwich sort of gal. Give her a big cheesesteak, or a hoagie, and she was a happy camper. But some teensy triangle barely bigger than her thumb didn’t count as food in her world. Who eats a cucumber sandwich, anyway? Or cream cheese on white bread? No wonder the things were so tiny—if you had to eat any more than that you’d cry “uncle.”

Perhaps her beef wasn’t so much with the silly tea sandwiches, or even the way some of the women here were literally sipping their pretentious tea with their pinky fingers sticking out—like they were the damned queen or something—but more with her Aunt Jeannie, who never met an occasion where she didn’t try to one-up Georgie with her own daughter Marcy. And what better occasion to rub her daughter’s superiority in Georgie’s face than at Marcy’s bridal shower.

“Georgie, are you sure you don’t have any man you’d want to bring to Marcy’s wedding? You’re more than welcome to bring someone.”

Patty, Georgie’s mom, and her sister Jeannie were never much in the friends department. Jeannie had been super jealous when Patty married Georgie’s dad, Bob. Evidently Jeannie had nurtured a burning crush on him in high school. It was one of those cliché things: Bob was the star quarterback, Jeannie, a cheerleader. As much as Jeannie tried to get his attention, he seemed to turn his attention instead toward the bookish younger sister, Patty. When it became abundantly clear she was not going to land her football hero, Jeannie’s claws came out for Patty and their relationship suffered for it.

It became worse when they both had children, as Jeannie always felt the need to prop up her daughter against Georgie. Marcy’s glossy black hair was so much prettier than Georgie’s dishwater-colored waves. Marcy’s eyes were a warm brown, while Georgie’s were a cold blue. The gospel according to Jeannie. The irony was that Jeannie dodged a bullet with that one. Bob, it turned out, had a ferocious temper and Georgie’s mother spent her marriage cowed in a state of anxiety and fear until eventually she mustered up the courage to leave him. But Jeannie could only blame her sister for being the root cause of Bob’s anger; she was certain had she married him she’d have tamed him.

The only reason Georgie even bothered to maintain contact with her relatives at this point was that she had so few. She’d long ago cut ties with her father. His excessive drinking was bad enough but always led to outbursts and his blaming Georgie for her mother leaving. Even in death, she couldn’t escape his blame. She’d tried to keep her father in her life, but a couple of years of therapy helped her realize she was better off without him in it. So that left her with Jeannie and Marcy, which was like being told you have a choice of eating four-day-old fish or overcooked, tough steak. She certainly didn’t have a family smorgasbord from which to choose.

Sure it was frustrating that her Aunt Jeannie treated her a bit like Cinderella. But she took solace in knowing that at least she wasn’t her mother. And if she couldn’t have her mama, at least she had Margie in her stead, the next best thing, and she knew that she was far better off than Marcy, who was stuck with a miserable mother desperately trying to live vicariously through her daughter. If left to her own devices, Marcy could be okay. But she’d been so browbeaten by her mother, that she obviously failed to come out from under her thumb.

“It’s a shame you haven’t been able to keep a man, Georgie,” Jeannie said as she passed a plate of petit fours—another desperately failed attempt at dessert. Give her a fat chunk of chocolate cake, or maybe an oversized serving of apple pie, thanks. But a tiny square of some baked thing covered with plastic-tasting icing? Thanks, but no thanks. “Marcie was practically turning down suitors when James came to call.”

Jesus, Georgie dreaded how badly her aunt could humiliate her at the actual wedding if she was already laying it on so thick here. To think she took a bath and fixed her hair and put on a nice dress only to come to this cheesy bridal shower tea party and be swiped at by a mean-spirited aunt. Haven’t been able to keep a man… What a beyotch she was!

“I’m totally good, Aunt Jeannie,” Georgie said, holding her hand up in protest. “I’ve got a few truly excellent vibrators. The great thing is you don’t even need batteries anymore—charge it up when you plug in your cell phone, and you’re good to go. Between that and all that free online porn, who needs a man anymore? They’re a needless hassle and leave their dirty underwear and socks lying around anyway.”

Her aunt’s near-black eyes grew wide and her mouth drew open in exclamation, causing her to drop the tea sandwich she’d started to shove into her mouth. The fallen, deconstructed sandwich with its cucumber bits scattered on the table beneath her aunt and made Georgie feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

Georgie looked around her aunt’s living room at the seven bridesmaids who were trying hard not to crack up. She glanced at Marcy and mouthed, “I’m sorry” to her, and luckily Marcy waved her hand and mouthed back, “no worries.” That left her fiancé’s mother and grandmother who it seemed was quite hard of hearing and missed the comments altogether. She suspected the mother chose to unhear what Georgie had said. But her aunt, well, she looked as if she could easily have been working up a full head of steam that would soon blast from all orifices in her skull. Instead she threw a hard stink-eye at Georgie and continued on as if she’d not heard the offending statement.

“I think this calls for a toast, to our Marcy, who fended off a lot of Mr. Maybes before finding her Mr. Right.” She held her champagne glass high as everyone agreed.

Georgie did her level best to not stick her finger down her throat and gag. Mr. Maybes her ass. Georgie was looking for Mr. I Couldn’t Give a Shit at this point. And by that she meant she couldn’t give one shit. Or two, for that matter. All this blather about marrying—she was so over it. There was no such thing as Mr. Right or Mr. Wrong. There were flawed men who would ultimately break your heart, maybe even when you least expected it. Like when you only have a few weeks before nuptials are exchanged and rings placed on fingers.

She didn’t know how she was going to get through this wedding without getting stinking drunk and calling out her aunt for her obnoxious ways. She’d need to bring reinforcements, which meant her friend and boss Harper was going to have to be her plus one and her bodyguard. Otherwise, Lord only knew what she might regret doing.