Chapter 18 #2
My heart melts a little at his disappointment. “We can go to her game next week.” It’s been a challenge to make them with all the wedding preparations, which has been unfortunate.
He offers us both an arm and nods. “I don’t want to keep missing them.”
“Me either.”
Connor walks us down the steps and helps us into the car. He stands there with his hands shoved into his pockets, looking stupidly delicious and equally worried as we drive off.
Meems and I sit in the back seat, while Hemi is in front with Lexi.
“When will we have book club again?” Meems asks on the short drive.
“Soon, hopefully. It’s been busy with all the wedding prep and season startup for Connor.”
“We’ll have to plan a date once the wedding has passed,” Lexi suggests.
The drive over is the fun part of this event, and it basically goes downhill from there.
Courtney’s smile slides right off her face when Meems and I enter her daughter’s home, but she quickly recovers and ushers us in with a forced smile.
I assume it’s the matching dresses. Or at least what they represent.
Connor’s family seems like a ball of wool unraveling, and I’m trying not to get tangled in the mess.
Portia waits until her mother is out of earshot before she whispers, “You and Meems look cute. This was Connor?”
“It was Connor,” I affirm.
She gives me an empathetic smile. “He should know better.”
I come to his defense. “I think he’s just trying to find a place to fit.”
She laughs. “He’s never tried to fit into this family.”
“Maybe he did, but it didn’t work, so he stopped trying,” I suggest.
“Connor has always done his own thing,” she assures me.
“It can’t be easy.”
Her expression shifts to confusion. “Connor has never liked to make things easy for himself or anyone else.”
“I imagine it must have been lonely for him, always feeling like he was on the outside, never feeling understood.”
Isabelle comes down the stairs and squeals when she sees me, effectively ending that tense conversation.
I’m grateful for Isabelle and her sweetness, and even more thankful when the rest of my friends show up.
They’re a huge ball of happy energy, insulating me from the haughty stuffiness of Connor’s mother’s friends. Everyone is so proper and stiff.
I’m not huge on being the center of attention, but I’m thrust into the middle of the room so I can open the endless gifts.
Three-thousand thread count sheets imported from Egypt, a collection of wildly expensive wines, designer embossed sweaters with Mr. and Mrs. Grace on the front.
Every gift is grander than the last, like it’s a competition to see who can give the best one.
So when the Babe Brigade—bless their wonderful, sweet hearts—present me with a spa day that they’ll all be joining me for, I almost burst into tears of gratitude. I could really use a girls’ day.
“You’re included as well, obviously,” Lexi says to Connor’s mom and sisters.
“I have someone who comes to the house monthly,” Courtney replies.
“I’d love to go,” Isabelle says at the same time.
Portia looks like she might explode from the sudden tension in the room.
Lexi just ignores it. “Great! It’ll be a fun day! Roman sends me there all the time, and they’re wonderful.” She turns to Courtney. “Maybe you could just join us for lunch. Your aesthetician is sort of like your stylist, right? Going to someone else feels a lot like cheating.”
Portia laughs shrilly, then sinks into her chair. I have so many questions about her.
I diffuse some of the discomfort by offering an embarrassing, pointless story.
“Once I trimmed my own bangs. I was between stylists because I’d moved.
” And I couldn’t really afford regular trips to the salon, but everyone is listening, and Portia is no longer receiving looks from her mother for her outburst of laughter, so I continue.
“But my ability to cut a straight line was not the best, so I had to keep trimming.”
“Oh no…” Isabelle covers my hand with hers.
“You see where this is going, right?”
“How short were they?”
“So short. It was around Halloween, so I really leaned into it. I dyed my hair black and went as the girl from Kill Bill.”
“What’s Kill Bill?” Courtney asks.
“A movie from the early two thousands,” I explain.
“That’s a real commitment to a bang cut gone awry,” Lexi says.
“I like to own my mistakes.” And apparently tell stupid stories because I didn’t put up a fight when my future in-laws said they were throwing a bridal shower. I am so lucky to have the friends I do.
“My mom used to cut mine and Flip’s hair, because of money,” Rix chimes in, obviously not wanting me to be alone in the land of embarrassing stories.
At Isabelle and Portia’s confused expressions, Rix offers more of an explanation. “We were poor.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.” Isabelle looks genuinely sad that this was the case.
Rix shrugs. “It’s all I knew, and we have great parents and a house full of love.”
I love how she unintentionally humbles these women, and how easily she talks about what her life was like growing up. “Except once Flip asked me to cut his hair, and it did not go well.”
“This is one of my favorite stories!” Essie claps and hugs Rix’s arm.
“Same! So, my older brother Flip, who is Connor’s teammate and Dred’s bestie, decided he wanted a special haircut for grade nine picture day, and despite my lack of hair-cutting experience—”
“—other than with our Barbies,” Essie chimes in.
“We thought we were so good,” Rix says.
“Bless our idiot selves.” Essie puts her hand over her heart. “We were awful.”
“So awful.” Rix smiles. “But Flip had misplaced faith that I could handle the task.”
“How old were you?” Hammer asks.
“Like, ten, right?” Rix looks to Essie for confirmation.
“About that, yeah.”
“I can’t believe Flip has never told me this story before,” I muse.
“Then you’d want to see his grade nine pictures.” Rix grins.
“Please tell me you have them.”
“Absolutely. I’m saving them for the photo slideshow at his wedding, if he ever gets married.”
“He’ll get married,” Tally pipes up.
Fee hides a smile behind her glass of soda.
Seems like that torch Tally has been carrying since high school is still burning brightly.
“How bad was the haircut?” Portia asks.
“So bad,” Rix replies.
“So, so bad. He looked like he’d gone a round with a weed eater and lost,” Essie adds.
“And then my mom came home.”
“You must have been in so much trouble,” Isabelle whispers.
Rix snorts a laugh. “My mom thought it was hilarious. It was Flip’s fault for encouraging me. After that, she taught me how to use the electric trimmer. He looked like a tennis ball for his photos. Ironically, or probably unsurprisingly, he rocked that buzz cut.”
Essie nods her agreement. “That was the year Flip got cute.”
“The girls were relentless after that.” Rix rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “He kept the buzz cut until winter, and then grew his hair back because Canadian winters aren’t kind.”
“Amen to that,” Hammer agrees.
Connor’s sister jumps in with a story of her own. “Portia and I tried to cut each other’s bangs once, too. Except our hair was dry.”
“Oooh, that’s a rookie mistake,” I say with empathy.
“It was so bad.” Isabelle turns to Portia. “Yours were better than mine.”
She grips her sister’s hand. “True, and I’m still sorry.”
“Remember when we begged Connor to help us fix it?” Isabelle smiles.
“He laughed so hard at us.”
“We deserved it.” Portia’s smile is wide. “But he brought us a whole pile of scarves and made us promise not to tell you he’d aided and abetted,” Portia explains to Courtney.
“Is that why he needed all of those scarves?” Meems slaps her thigh and laughs.
“Oh my goodness, Connor got them from you?” Portia’s jaw drops.
“That makes so much sense now,” Isabelle adds.
“How old were you girls? Junior high maybe?” Meems asks.
“I was grade seven. You were going into eight.” Isabelle looks to her sister for confirmation.
“That’s right. I was so worried I wouldn’t have bangs for picture day in the fall.” Portia nods.
“Don’t you remember the trunk full of old clothes you girls used to play with when you were young?” Meems smiles.
“It was the only thing you girls wanted to do when we went to see Meems,” Courtney says. Even she seems caught up in the memories.
“You’d dress Connor up,” Meems adds.
Isabelle and Portia laugh. “The things he tolerated.”
“You made dresses out of the scarves, and then he’d have to untie all the knots for you,” Meems says. “That day of the bangs disaster, he drove over, picked them up, and said he’d be back later to explain.”
“That’s right! He didn’t have his G2 license yet, but he took the car anyway,” Isabelle says.
Courtney blanches. “That’s why he took the car?”
The humor in Portia’s voice disappears. “He got in so much trouble for that.”
“He never told on us, though.” Isabelle shares a look with her sister. “He just accepted the punishment.”
“Which was what?” I ask.
“He’d been offered a placement at a hockey program in Sweden, but that was the summer he went to the Hockey Academy instead,” Portia replies.
“Ah. Well, he’s still close with those guys, and look where he is now.
Seems like it worked out in the end,” I say, trying to lighten the suddenly somber mood.
I’ve just opened their eyes, and hopefully they’ll start to see Connor differently, just like I have since I became his fiancée.
He’s damaged, but he’s loyal, even when he’s the one who gets hurt.
Meems, bless her amazing, but overworked heart, asks to go home shortly after that because she’s tired. Courtney tells me to leave the gifts, and she’ll have them delivered to the house for us.
The girls all hug me, whispering words of encouragement, and Lexi, Hemi, Meems, and I climb back into Lexi’s car. I’m sure my Babe chat will be blowing up later, but we spend the car ride back to Grace Manor talking wedding stuff.
“That was a good thing you did,” Meems says a little while later as I get her settled in her favorite chair in the guesthouse.
“I just want to open their eyes, so they see the same Connor we do,” I explain.
“You’re doing a wonderful job of that.” She squeezes my hand.
“Thank you. It means a lot to hear that from you.”
I leave Meems to rest and cross through the breezeway into the mansion, planning to stop in my room so I can check on Dewey and change before I go in search of Connor.
As soon as I enter my room, Dewey makes excited snuffling noises. He’s popular with the staff, and they’re more than happy to spend time with him while I’m at work. I open the cage and pick him up, cuddling him.
“How’s my cute baby?” I kiss his little face while he squirms and smile when I catch a hint of Connor’s cologne. “Has someone else been giving you snuggles?”
I arch a brow, and he wiggles around, a permanent smile on his adorable face.
“I think you have a new fan.”
I transfer him to one hand and pluck his water dish from his enclosure. There are woodchips in it, which happens on a regular basis. I cross over to the bathroom and stop short when I reach the threshold. The clawfoot tub is full of pink bubbles.
“What is all this?”
Dewey snuffles.
There’s a tray across the center with a stack of my favorite, well-worn books, a steaming mug of tea, and a plate of chocolate-dipped strawberries. A notecard sits on top. I set Dewey’s water dish aside so I can pick it up.
Flipping it open, I run my fingers over the pretty cursive.
Mildred,
My sisters and Meems had the most amazing time. They haven’t stopped messaging about how much they adore you.
Thank you,
Connor
Dewey nuzzles my neck, and I turn to kiss his head. “Maybe you’re not the only one with a fan.”