Chapter Two
Bella
Finally I have to admit it to Scherri.
I’ve been stringing her along for months, my own sister, and now it’s time to own up.
“Who are you bringing?” is the first question she asks every time she calls, this time no different.
“I think I’ll go solo on this one,” I say as breezily as I can manage.
“Oh, you’re not bringing, what was his name? Logan – the guy you mentioned last time we talked?
“Nooo,” I draw the word out, trying to think of an excuse that won’t sound lame or like a lie. Which it is.
“Is everything okay?” Scherri asks and I can hear the pitying tone in her voice.
I don’t need sympathy, I just need a date. How can it be this difficult for a girl in her twenties, in the second biggest city in the country, good job, good enough body, slightly better face. How can it be this difficult to find one man willing to escort you to your sister’s wedding?
“We didn’t work out that’s all,” At least that's not a lie of the bald-faced kind. Hell, it could even pose as truth.
“Sorry Sweetie. that’s too bad because you know Mom. She’s told everyone in the family that you’re bringing your fiance.”
“What? How did I suddenly get engaged? That’s news to me.”
“You know how she has to make everything waaaay bigger than it is. And I don’t think I’m paranoid in saying that she wanted to diminish me as the center of attention as much as she could.”
“It’s me she’s belittling here,” I snap. “Then it’s settled and I’m definitely not bringing anyone.”
“Except all the aunties will be so disappointed, Dottie especially. She says it’s the last time she’ll have the chance to see her girls married. I think since gran died, she feels her time is approaching.”
“Dottie will be around longer than all of us,” I say, thinking of the tiny lady who was always my favorite.
The most raucous of the sisters, she loves a good party and had a hysterical foul mouth that sent our mother ballistic, acting all horrified.
“Wait ‘til you see her,” Scherri says sadly. “She looks the same but her mind plays strange tricks, like her memory is off. All she can talk about is her two girls getting married to giant defenders, like Stick and your Logan are Vikings.”
Scherri giggles but I can tell she’s covering up her disappointment. I know she had ideas of the four of us hanging out together in the lead up to the wedding. It won’t be the same with only me there, a third wheel upsetting the balance with her and Stick.
I want to say I won’t go at all, The humiliation my mother will probably splatter on me at every opportunity is not a thrilling proposition. But I’d never let my sister down and I’m really looking forward to seeing her marry her childhood sweetheart at long last. It’s comforting to see how much he adores every step she takes on this earth. Even if she makes a mistake, he’s by her side supporting her through it, letting her know he loves even her wrongs.
I want that too.
I’ve given so much to my job and going on useless dates I knew were going nowhere but assuming I had all the time in the world. Now it’s run out. The end of my road as a vibrant single girl seems to have appeared like I turned a sudden corner and ran into it without seeing the horizon looming.
“Can you believe the price to rent wineglasses?”
Scherri is chattering away about the plans she’s making a reality.
“I bought three boxes of mason jars and labeled each with the name of the guest. They look so cute all lined up on the lace covered table. Once all the flower bouquets are done, it’s going to be amazing. And I have lights strung through all the trees by the lake and old frames hanging from branches. People are supposed to bring a photo of me and Stick to put in them.”
“You’re a DIY diva,” I laugh, her happiness infectious.
“If you can get here earlier than Friday night that would be amazing,” she says, running out of breath in her excitement. “And don’t forget the cream.”
“Right. I’ll do my best.”
“The cake came today, you wait til you see it.”
“I can’t wait...”
“It’s three tall tiers, pale blue color and hand painted all over with big pink flowers and hummingbirds. I fell in love with those little birds when we stopped the Airstream in a town close to Baton Rouge and they flew around our door constantly. I have no idea why they came.”
“Good luck. Or they could feel the love inside.”
It brings a tear to my eye, knowing it’s true and also wishing those little birds would pass my way.
“It will happen for you too,” Scherri says, always aware of my feelings whereas I tend to be more self-focused if I’m honest.
“I love you, Scherri,” I tell her.
It’s pretty amazing that despite how we were set against each other as competitors growing up, we’ve managed to come through that and support each other more than ever.
“I love you too, Belle. See you Friday?”
“If not before.”
“Please try. I need help managing the aunties. They won’t stop pawing at Stick. Dottie seems to believe he’s some British soldier she knew in the 1940s and keeps calling him Arthur.”
“Wasn’t Dottie a journalist in that war? She told me once she knew Hemingway.”
“It’s hard to know now what’s true and what’s in her mind’s fantasies. It’s sad. I wish I’d paid more attention to her when I was growing up. Now all her stories are lost.”
That reminds me that I’m going to be facing endless questions about my love life or lack thereof all weekend. Along with the constant jabs from my mother who will no doubt switch her preference back to Scherri, while trying to steal some of the bridal limelight for herself.
Oh well, I have no intention of allowing family dynamics to intrude on my enjoyment of the big day. I’m going to let any barbs my mother tries to tangle me in simply slip away without snagging.
“Is Sticky wearing his uniform?”
I know as soon as it leaves my lips I’ve asked a dumbass question. I want to slap myself for being so thoughtless. Sometimes those kinds of queries or comments pop out of your mouth as though your own brain cells are bent on betraying you.
“No,” Scherri says very softly. “He’s matching my style. I’ve gone boho so I’m dressing him in a simple country look so he’ll be comfortable. No uniforms.”
“Of course,” I whisper. “sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Scherri says, lifting her voice back to a cheery tone. “He doesn't make a big deal out of it but I know sometimes he’s thinking about everything they went through back then.”
“You don’t want him remembering that on your wedding day.”
“Exactly.”
“Are any of his ex buddies coming to the wedding? Any strapping single dudes?”
“No. He’s not really in touch with anyone from his unit.”
Boo. No chance for a steamy weekend encounter with an ex seal then.
A long silence follows my second inept query. I realize it’s my own nervousness about the questions that will be fired at me, making me blurt out some response without thinking.
“What can I bring?” I want to be helpful but it sounds like I’m buying my way out of my slip up.
“Nothing but your fantastic self. I can’t wait for you to get here.”
Ugh, she sounds so genuine and I hate that I’m so attached to my commercial and consumer lifestyle. We say goodbyes and I flop back in my office chair. I almost envy Stick and Scherri taking off in a trailer and living a simple life wherever they choose to stop. She sounds so happy but I know I’d last five minutes before I was needing a curling iron or the stimulation of going after a promotion. But something inside is prodding at me, telling me I’ve lost direction in what’s important.
Bradly walks past my door and gives me a wave with a smirk before continuing on quickly. Another one I had stupid dreams about. They came to nothing when he made it clear he wasn't looking for anything permanent, but not until I’d given him my only ace in the hole.
Maybe I don’t have a date for the wedding because I put myself out on the market as a commodity. Always trying to be the perfect woman they’d want to seduce instead of a real person they could get to know over time.
My boss refused to give me extra time off this week to go early up to Dragoon. But right then I make my own executive decision that I’m going to take it anyway. This is a once in a lifetime weekend on so many levels and this job is no reason to miss that. Maybe I won’t have a job to come back to. The subversive side of me wants to risk that, crazy as it seems.
I leave early and drive out of LA before traffic hits, noticing how I can breathe easier as soon as I’m outside the city.