In a Rush

Chapter 2

chapter two

Emme

Today’s Learning Objective:

Students will weigh the lesser of two terrible options.

My best friend paced in front of me. “I’m going to kill him.”

“Not if I kill him first,” Ben, her fiancé, muttered.

I shifted the hot mug in my hands and stared at the marshmallows bobbing on the surface. Cocoa and Kahlúa, Grace’s wintertime cure-all. In the summer, it was vodka with cherries and pineapple juice. In more than a decade of friendship, these remedies had never failed. Even in the worst of cases, they always took the edge off just enough to get us through.

But a nasty voice in the back of my head said that much sugar wouldn’t do me any favors.

I’d never let myself care what anyone thought about my body before. Not in any significant way. I was short and round. Not plus-sized but soft . Depending on the clothes, curvy. I’d always drawn a lot of confidence from my full hips and generous bust. I was built a little different from everyone else and I’d convinced myself that made me special.

I had an exquisite rack and I knew it. I loved the way I looked in V-neck sweaters and wrap dresses. I liked being short and I liked being soft, and I liked that I was more Renaissance cherub than anything else.

Yet somewhere in the past year, I’d chosen to accept Teddy’s pointless comments and started hiding in oversized button-downs and loose jeans. I’d allowed him to poke a finger into the squish of my belly and say, “A little less bread, babe.”

He’d snatched up every piece of that confidence and replaced it with…soup.

I groaned to myself. I didn’t think I could find my way through this one. I couldn’t even give myself permission to lift the mug to my mouth.

I didn’t remember driving here. Didn’t remember much after walking away from Teddy. All I could think about was hearing him through the wall, hearing him break me with every squeak of his bedsprings.

And her face. I couldn’t stop seeing her face.

I bet he’d lied to her about me. Called me an unhinged ex. Maybe I was just someone who couldn’t take a hint. He wouldn’t bother to tell her the truth, just like he hadn’t bothered to stop hiding shellfish in everything.

But it wasn’t a one-night thing. It wasn’t an accident. He’d had the ring in his drawer all this time and—how long had it been going on?

“Did you know?” Grace asked Ben. “Because if you knew, I’m going to kill you too.”

He stepped in the path of her pacing, his hands settling on her upper arms. “I know that’s not a serious question, but I want to hear you tell me it’s not a serious question.”

She met his gaze, her chin tipped up in the defiant way Grace met every demand that landed before her. “You never heard anything? No chatter around the firehouse? None of that locker room talk you boys are so fond of?”

His fingers flexed on her arms. “I would’ve told you and you fuckin’ know that, Grace.”

I went back to the mug, the dull heat of it warming my fingers and the shape of the bottom digging into my palm. I didn’t have the stomach to watch them know each other like this.

Once upon a very delusional time, I’d imagined the four of us together forever. Grace would marry Ben this summer, and Teddy and I would eventually get there too. We’d go on couples trips and take turns hosting parties and holidays. We’d find a place in the little suburban neighborhood where they lived and then Grace and I would get pregnant at the same time. Our kids would be friends and our husbands would argue over sports and everything would be good. We’d be good.

I stopped hearing their conversation and I drifted into a mental abyss where the only thing that existed was the mug, the cocoa, the marshmallows. I was alone here. Alone in this dark, deep nothing. And this was where I’d stay because any minute now, Grace would remember?—

“You’re going to have to find a new best man.”

There it was. The kink my hollow little hope of forever would put in her big day.

“I know he’s your friend, but—” She pushed her fingers through her long, dark hair. “He can’t be in the wedding.”

Ben dropped his hands to his hips. “Grace.”

The trouble with being alone was that it often happened when I was with people, right in the thick of things. I was here, I was part of something—but I also wasn’t. And right now, with Ben staring at Grace with you can’t be serious eyes, I wasn’t part of this. Not anymore. Not since stumbling in here with my cheese all over my boots and a hiccupy story about a pretty girl with sex hair.

Was the ring for her? It had to be.

Unless there were other women.

If there was one, there could be more than one.

If I let myself think about that, I’d never stop.

Grace mirrored his stance. “There’s no way I’m forcing my maid of honor to walk up the aisle with the guy who cheated on her.”

“Then they don’t walk together. We have plenty of time to figure out the logistics. There’s no reason to make any decisions tonight.”

She resumed her pacing, tossing out a quickly grumbled, “It’s not like we need to get married anyway.”

“Excuse me? You want to run that by me one more time, sweetheart?”

As Ben stepped into her path once again, I turned my attention back to the cocoa. The marshmallows were surrendering to the heat and giving up their shape. I understood that in a strange, poorly translated way. I just knew something was happening to me right now, likely something I’d caused because I was the only common denominator in these shit shows, and I didn’t know who I’d be when it was all over.

Grace said something but I wasn’t listening. Ben sighed like he’d been punched in the stomach. I didn’t really need to know what she’d said. It was sure to be ridiculous and dramatic, and probably featured an ultimatum or two. She drew a lot of inspiration from evil queens.

That was Grace’s style. She fashioned herself as something of a villain, and though that vibe suited her, she was hardly villainous. She just knew who the fuck she was and couldn’t be bothered to care whether anyone had a problem with that.

My style wasn’t so clear-cut.

If I knew Grace at all—and I did—I knew she’d burn her entire wedding down if I didn’t stop her. She’d do it, she’d have no shred of remorse, and it wouldn’t fix a damn thing. I’d still dissolve until I barely recognized myself. I’d still break until all those spots formed thick, leathery scars. But there was no way I was letting her cancel this wedding.

I could pull it together. I could do that. I’d find a way to deal with Teddy over the next few months. I’d put on a smile and get through it for Grace, and?—

No— no.

The pure wrongness shuddered through me. I wasn’t the one who had to shrink into the shadows with my scars. I didn’t have to hide behind my smeared mascara and broken heart. He was the one who’d done this. Let him stew in the discomfort he’d created. Let him see me wasting not a minute of my life mourning him, mourning us. Let him realize what he’d had and what he’d thrown away. Let him suffer.

“Grace, it’s fine,” I said, my voice dry, splintering over every syllable. “He’s a dick. There’s no reason to call off your wedding because a guy was a dick. I’m too tired to argue this with you so you just need to agree with me before Ben has a stroke.”

She crossed her arms as she studied me. After a moment, she turned to her fiancé and asked, “Why are you friends with a dick?”

Ben, with his brows high and his eyes hopeful for a smooth landing, shrugged. “I don’t know. He’s saved my life a couple of times, but that’s obviously unimportant to this situation.”

“Very unimportant,” Grace replied.

“Good, good,” he murmured, a hand rubbing the back of his neck. “Glad we’re clear on that.”

She stared at him for a moment, her lips pursed as she weighed the options. I knew she didn’t want to call off the wedding. She secretly looked at pics from the day she found her dress all the time. Our friend Shay had offered her family’s tulip farm as their wedding venue and Grace wouldn’t stop telling people about the farm’s weirdly cute features. And she loved Ben a whole lot. Even if it didn’t sound like it.

“What are you going to do about this?” Grace asked him.

“I was gonna call him and rip his head off for a few minutes, but I can tell him to stop having my back in burning buildings if you want.” Ben held out his hands, shrugged. “I’m good either way.”

These two. If I could’ve laughed, I would’ve. They needed to get married. They needed their big party and their special day.

And I needed to figure out how to put on a happy face while I melted into nothing, just like one of these marshmallows.