Chapter 19
I CURRENTLY LOOK ABOUT seven months pregnant. My belly is swollen, and I’ve eaten enough food to last me until the new year. Yet when the waiter places directly in front of me a plate stacked with medium-rare steak, rosemary garnished potatoes, roasted carrots, and a lobster tail, I don’t even hesitate.
“This is the kind of wedding planning I can get behind,” I say between chews. The meat is so tender it melts on my tongue. “Oh my God , Julie. This is so freaking good.”
When Julie bites into her pistachio-crusted salmon, her eyes flutter closed. “Holy shit.” When Julie swears, you know it’s good. “Hun, what do you think?”
Massimo bites into the steak. “ Molto bene ,” he says. An Italian’s approval, too? This meal needs to win an award.
The three of us are seated in the dining room at Eagle High Country Club. It’s an hour’s drive out of Ridgewood and the venue Julie and Massimo booked last week for their wedding. Everything here screams expensive—the floor-to-ceiling windows, valet car service, velvet armchairs, and mysterious lounge that is members only.
We’re in the middle of the food tasting, trying to decide how to narrow down the menu. Julie and Massimo were allowed to bring two people with them. It was supposed to be me and Jill, but she grumbled out some half-assed excuse that was obviously a lie and opted to stay home. I didn’t complain, since I get to eat her portion, too.
When the meal is finished, Angelika, the general manager, guides me and Julie to the bridal suite while Massimo is shown to the room reserved for the groomsmen. The bridal suite is in various shades of cream. A soft-as-cotton white carpet covers the floor, and a beautiful curved couch sits in the center, large enough to easily sit a dozen people. There are white velvet ottomans, gold-rimmed mirrors leaning against the walls, makeup counters, and a wall lined with white silk robes. It’s like entering a whole different world of luxury.
After Angelika leaves to give us a moment alone, we take a seat on the couch. We were advised to leave our shoes at the door, so we tuck our sock-clad feet beneath our legs, both of us naturally sitting in the exact same position. There are moments when our mannerisms mirror each other’s so starkly, it makes me pause.
“So...” Julie begins. “What do you think?” Everything about her—her facial expression, the permanent smile, the awe in her voice—tells me that this is the wedding she has envisioned since she was ten.
“I think it’ll be nearly impossible for any wedding to ever top yours.”
“It’s not a competition.” Julie pauses, a sneaky smile playing on her face. “But you’re totally right. No one can top this.” After a moment she adds, “I guess if Jill were here, that would top this .”
Just the mention of Jill makes me clam up. Somewhere over the past twenty-four hours I reached the decision that I’m going to confide in Julie about the whole Camilla-Jill situation. It’s way too much for me to handle on my own. Like one misstep will bring everything crashing down.
I think I’m doing a good job hiding how awkward I feel, until Julie points it out.
“What are you hiding?” she asks.
“Nothing,” I say too quickly.
Julie leans in, seeing right through me with that laser stare. “Spit it out right now, Jackie. You’re going to cave eventually, so you may as well save us the time.”
“I don’t think now is the right time—”
“Tell me,” she says. “Please.”
I sigh. “I found out something about Jillian.”
At that, Julie’s entire demeanor shifts, her posture stiffening. “Did something happen at work?”
Fine. Part of the reason I want to tell her is selfish, too. Because I am sick of carrying this information around alone. Tired of feeling like I’m walking on eggshells. There are moments when you just need a big sister, and right now I need Julie’s guidance more than I ever have. This problem has grown too big for me. I need an extra pair of hands—hands that are far more gentle than mine.
“Yes, something happened at work,” I say, wincing as I remember Jillian and Camilla’s kiss in the car.
“Well? What is it?”
“I think they’re dating.”
Julie’s voice drops frighteningly low. “Who is dating?”
“Jillian and Camilla,” I clarify. “I think they’re back together.”
“What do you mean you think they’re back together?” I know Julie is back there, too. Back experiencing those months when we watched Jillian suffer silently while she kept everyone at arm’s length.
I describe that day at The Rundown . “I saw them kiss,” I say. “I don’t know how to explain it, but after seeing them together, it all seemed so obvious. The way they act around each other at work, how Jill always stays late...”
Julie’s fingers are pressed to her temples, like she’s fighting off a raging headache. “This cannot be happening.” She groans. “When was this?”
“Last week.”
Her eyes narrow. “It took you a week to tell me?”
I shrink back into the couch. “I didn’t know what to do,” I say honestly. “I didn’t know if I should get involved or—”
“We get involved, Jackie. Of course we get involved! After what happened the last time Jillian dated Camilla, my biggest regret to this day is that I didn’t get involved sooner.” Julie stands, then changes her mind and sits back down. “We need to talk to her.”
“That’s a terrible idea.”
“What else can we do?”
“You know how Jill is with confrontation, or when anyone tries to tell her what to do. She shuts down, walks away, and it, like, fuels her to keep doing it,” I say. I remember the day Jill drove me home from Monte’s and I asked her to slow down—she was going fifteen over the speed limit. What did she do? She went thirty over the entire drive. She’s like a child: if you tell her not to do something, it makes her want it even more.
“I can’t sit back and— And wait, Jackie. Just wait for her to go through that heartbreak again,” Julie says, choking back tears.
“But how do we know it’s going to be the same as last time?” I ask, a thought I only just had. “Maybe it’ll be different. Maybe Camilla has changed.” When I see them at work, they seem pretty happy—like they make a good team.
“Cheaters don’t change. Ever. Take it from the girl who’s given them one too many chances.”
“Give her some time,” I beg. Jill only just found out that I turned down her interview, too. That may have already cost her the promotion. And if it did, this on top of it might be her breaking point. “Don’t confront Jill right away. Wait a week or two? Maybe she’ll confide in you.”
Julie snorts. “The only person Jillian confides in is herself. She won’t tell me anything, Jackie. Ever.”
“If you confront her, it’s going to cause a huge fight.” That’s the last thing I want. I hate when there’s tension in the house, especially between my sisters.
“I know that.”
“I don’t want it getting back to Camilla and costing me my job,” I say. That one is a bit of a lie. But I’m trying to find a good enough reason to convince Julie not to go home and storm into Jill’s room.
“You think it would?”
I nod. “I doubt Camilla will want me in the office if it seems like I’ve been snooping around, digging up dirt on their relationship.”
Julie’s sigh fans across my face. “You might be right. God, I hate this. So we’re supposed to, what? Sit back while Jill lets this girl ruin her life for a second time?”
I don’t want that. Not again. “No. But for now, let’s see what happens. I mean, I did only see them kiss. They might not even be too serious.” Even as I say it, I don’t believe myself.
Julie scoffs. “I doubt it that, but fine. For now we can lie low. But Jackie, the second I get the sense that something is off—if I so much as see them together or see Jillian hurt—I’m stepping in.”
“I won’t stop you if that happens,” I say.
Angelika knocks on the door. A second later, her head peeks through. “Hi, ladies. How’s it going in here?”
“Great! We’re ready to continue with the rest of the tour,” Julie says, transitioning back into composed bride mode so quickly it nearly gives me whiplash.
When dessert is ready, we return to the dining room. They’ve prepared a sampler plate, lined with all five dessert options for us to taste. There’s everything from pistachio cheesecake to strawberry shortcake to a mille-feuille —thin, crispy layers of puff pastry filled with cream. They were all mouthwatering, but Julie opted for the pistachio cheesecake. From the second we sat down, I knew she’d pick it.
As Massimo drives us home, Julie gushes on about the wedding. The flower arrangements, the late-night food stations, the debate between a live band or a DJ. It feels like our conversation about Jillian never happened. The weight on my chest begins to lighten. I’m thinking that maybe this will end up all right. Maybe Julie will let this go and Camilla really has changed. Maybe this new relationship will finally bring Jillian the happiness she so desperately searched for in their last one.
But then Massimo turns the car onto our street, and I hear Julie’s gasp even before I see the familiar Jeep Wrangler pulling out of our driveway. I look up fast enough to spot Camilla in the driver’s seat. The look on her face very much screams oh shit .
Before Massimo has stopped the car, Julie flings open the door. “Stay in the car, Massimo,” she says. Then she is up the driveway and barging through the front door and I am hurrying behind, struggling to catch up, going as fast as I possibly can and tripping over my own two feet in the process.
“Jillian!” She stands in the hallway, screaming her name.
I catch up, grab her shoulder, spin her around. “Julie— please. You just promised you wouldn’t do this.”
Her eyes burn with red-hot anger, a completely unfamiliar look on her face. “I promised I’d hold off until we saw them together, Jackie. She just left our freaking house .”
Jillian walks down the stairs, looking like she just woke up from a nap. Or she just finished—
Oh .
Oh, no.
Julie must realize it, too, because her anger multiplies by about ten thousand.
She lets out the most sarcastic, cruel laugh I’ve ever heard. “Well, at least now I know the real reason why you couldn’t make the tasting today, Jillian. Nice to know where my wedding sits on your list of priorities.”
Jillian pauses midway in her descent down the stairs. “What are you talking about?” In a flash, I see her defenses go up, like a fighter entering a cage.
I step farther into the house, placing myself between them.
“How long have you and Camilla been back together?” Julie asks.
The color drains out of Jillian’s face. “Excuse me?”
“We saw her pull out of the driveway,” I explain, my voice weak. It’s only a matter of time before I get brought into this.
I should’ve kept my mouth firmly shut.
“She gave me a ride home from work,” Jillian says.
Julie scoffs. “On a Sunday ?”
My heart is beating so fast I can feel it in my ears.
Julie is so angry her face has turned red. “Oh my God,” she screams. “Can you be honest for once? Jackie saw you two kiss after work! We know you’re back together, Jillian! The question is why in the world you would go back to her?”
I shrink when Jillian’s gaze narrows in on me. “You saw us kiss?”
I want the floor to collapse beneath me. “After work one day,” I say meekly. “You were in her car.”
Jillian looks so betrayed. “And your first instinct was to run and tell Julie instead of asking me about it?”
Julie speaks up. “Don’t try to pin this on Jackie. She didn’t do anything wrong here. And if she had talked to you, what would you have done? Lied to her? Denied it? ’Cause we all know how much you love talking about what’s going on in your life.”
That strikes a nerve. “So that’s what you two did today during the tasting, huh?” Jillian says, laughing. “You spent your time talking about me and my relationship, and how”—her voice goes high pitch, clearly mocking Julie—“Jillian is so closed off. Jillian doesn’t tell us anything. Jillian this, Jillian that.” She rolls her eyes. “Have you ever thought that this is the reason I don’t tell you shit, Julie? Because you butt your nose into everyone’s business and make it yours? You’re not our mom. Stop trying to parent us for two seconds.”
Julie’s eyes well up with tears.
“Guys,” I say, begging. “Please—”
“Well, I’m sorry that I care about you!” Julie retaliates. “Would you rather I be more like you? Stomping around the house, always in a bad mood? Refusing to talk to anyone ? Refusing to share any detail of your life with your family?”
Jillian’s lip quivers. But if there’s one thing about Jill, she will never, ever let anyone see her cry.
“I’m sorry you think so negatively of me,” she says, completely monotone. Like she’s dug deep inside herself and flicked off the switch that controls her emotions.
I never know what to do when this happens. When they fight like this. I don’t know how to console one of them without it looking like I’m picking sides.
“That’s not true, Jill,” I say, pleading with her. “You’re just different. We don’t hold that against you—”
“Clearly,” she scoffs, turning back to Julie. “Keep going, Jules. Any other flaws of mine you’d like to shed some light on?”
“You always do that,” Julie says.
“Do what?”
“Turn yourself into the victim,” Julie says. “This isn’t about picking you apart. This is about you going back to Camilla, the girl who cheated and broke your heart. Do you even remember how that broke you? And you’re making me seem like a bad person for caring? For not wanting that to happen again?”
“My relationship is none of your business,” Jillian grits out.
“We’re concerned,” I say, trying to explain. “We don’t want you going through that again, Jill.”
She snaps her attention over to me. “You’re concerned? Is that why you took the job at The Rundown , Jackie? To what—spy on me? Report back to Julie? God, what other shit have you told her? What I eat for lunch? How long my breaks are?”
Julie slaps her hands against her thighs. “You’re doing it again! Changing the subject and making it seem like we’re being evil! We’re concerned about you, Jill. Camilla is a cheater. She—”
“Don’t talk about her like that.” Jillian’s tone brings the conversation to a halt. If there was even one final shred of doubt left, it’s long gone. In those six words, it’s never been more obvious that Jill is back with Camilla. Not only that, but she loves her again, too.
I step closer to Jill, who sits down on the step. She buries her head in her hands.
“We love you, Jill,” I say. “After what Camilla did to you years ago—”
Her voice is muffled by her hands. “Camilla didn’t do anything to me. Please stop this. Just leave it alone.”
“She cheated on you,” Julie adds. “She broke your heart.”
“Please stop,” Jill says, curling her knees to her chest.
But Julie keeps going. “You sulked around for months. You were depressed, you were never here. We worried sick about you every single day, Jill. I went into your room every morning and saw an empty bed. I wondered if you were even alive .” Julie pauses, her voice thick with emotion. “I can’t let you go through that again. I can’t let Camilla ruin you again.”
“Camilla didn’t ruin me,” Jillian whispers.
“Stop defending her! She’s a terrible person that—”
Jillian stands up suddenly and begins to yell. “Camilla never cheated on me! I cheated on her ! She never broke my heart. I broke hers.”
I look to Julie, who looks to me. We are both shocked, our mouths hanging open.
“But you told us—”
“I lied,” Jillian says. “I told you she cheated because I couldn’t bear to have anyone else hate me.”
I don’t know how much time passes as the three of us stand there in silence, the weight of Jillian’s words settling into our skin like fresh ink. It’s the last thing I ever expected her to say.
“Jillian.” Julie walks to her with her arms outstretched, like she’s ready to hug her so tight the wounds will heal.
When Jillian looks at Julie, there is a coldness in her face that I’ve never seen before. “You want to know why I was at work today, Julie? Why I missed your tasting? Because I was up for a promotion, and Camilla wanted to tell me in person that I didn’t get it.”
My heart drops. I’m certain that if I look down, it’ll be right there, resting on the floor.
“I had no idea,” Julie whispers.
“Of course you didn’t,” Jillian says. “I’m too closed off, remember? I never tell you anything.” She doesn’t even pause to say goodbye before she grabs her car keys, heads out the front door, and just... leaves.
Julie begins to cry. “I had no idea,” she says over and over again. “Did you know she lost a promotion?”
“No,” I say, feeling like I’m in a daze. Only I did know. Or rather, I assumed she had. And it’s all my fault.
We stand there long enough that my parents walk through the door. “What happened?” they both ask.
I don’t even know what to say.
I sit on the floor and pull my knees to my chest.