Annabelle A Dot on the Radar Screen #2
I paused for a second, feeling nauseous again, realizing that, between work, Holden texting me every five minutes, now this Laura Anne thing, and not being able to get pregnant, my emotions were getting the best of me—and my stomach lining.
I sighed. “Fine. You’re right. I mean, I know you are.” I kept walking, wondering if the damp golf course grass was getting chemicals in my bloodstream.
“Does he know about every little fling you’ve ever had?”
I sighed again. “No, Cameron. He doesn’t know about every little fling I’ve ever had. Okay?”
“Well, then count your blessings that you were the one to finally tame that hunky, sickeningly sweet man and cut him some slack.”
“I hate you. I hate it when you’re right. And I need you to come visit immediately.”
“No way. Too boring.”
And with that, Cameron was gone. Some people would probably be offended, but Cameron was Cameron. You loved her or you hated her. And she couldn’t care less either way. I smiled, thinking back to our conversation right after I broke the news to her that Ben and I had eloped.
“I would like to be sorry,” I said, when she called seconds after receiving my text, “but I think we’re good enough friends that you can appreciate my overwhelming bliss.”
Cameron sighed. “I’m not that mad about Ben, but the fact that you didn’t let me be your maid of honor is totally unforgivable.”
I smiled and could picture a ten-year-old Cameron, blunt pixie cut, baggy jean shorts and 2 percent body fat, saying, “Gag. Who would ever want to have to wear one of those horrible dresses and be in a wedding? Don’t you dare ever ask me, because I will say no.”
I had reminded her of that moment outside our fifth-grade lockers, and she said, “I thought that was the beauty of best friends. I thought you knew when ‘no’ means ‘yes.’”
I had laughed at my friend and said, “When we have a big party to celebrate later on, I’ll have a special corsage made for you to wear around the party, and the favors will have a little card inside saying that you’re the maid of honor.”
“Ugh, I don’t want to have to wear some stupid flowers.”
That meant she was thrilled. Ben had wrapped his arms around me from behind and kissed my neck. I giggled, and he said, “I just finished a new song for you that I want you to hear.”
“How is it possible that you stole my life?” Cameron had said. “I mean, honestly, I am never taking you out ever again.”
“Well, the good news is that I’m married, so every other man now belongs to you.”
“Yup,” Ben said in my ear. “You’re mine all mine until the day I die.”
“I think someone else already wrote that line, sweetheart,” I said, kissing him.
“Gross,” Cameron said. “I need to go now. I have to go wedding dress shopping so that I can wear a big white dress to your party and steal your day like you stole my man.”
“Knock yourself out,” I said. “You’ll make it about ten minutes in that crinoline.”
Cameron sighed deeply like she’d been defeated. “You’re right. I’ll never survive.”
“I love you, sister I never had.”
She had sighed. “Fine. I love you too. But you owe me some serious nights out as payment for this life-altering slight.”
It occurred to me, walking through the golf course that day, remembering that call with Cameron, that I could use a serious night out too.
Before I could get through the front door of what had been a sex-filled love nest when I left and was now a frigid den of lies, “Why on earth didn’t you tell me about you and Laura Anne?
” was cascading out of my mouth in a tone that matched my crossed arms. I knew deep down that Cameron was right.
He married me. So why did anyone else matter?
But, probably because I had spent the day at a baby shower, I was sad and frustrated, and I needed to take it out on someone.
“Did Laura Anne tell you that?” Ben asked.
“No,” I said, pouring myself dramatically onto the couch. “That bitch Mrs. Taylor told me. And then I looked around the room and finally realized why I—me, the person who has always had a million friends in every corner—have yet to get close to one single person in this entire town.”
Ben sat down beside me on the couch and said, “Oh, TL, everyone in town knows that Mrs. Taylor is just a bitter old gossip. The only reason she would have said that is to get a rise out of you.” He squeezed my knee supportively. “And now you’re giving her just what she wants by letting her.”
He pulled me up, even though I was still limp as a week-old vase flower, and pulled me in close. He kissed my head and said, “You have plenty of friends here. It just hasn’t been long enough for you to get that close to any of them yet.”
I nodded and leaned my head on his shoulder. “I just don’t feel that initial ‘click’ with anyone, you know?”
“Oh, yeah. I know,” he said, raising his eyebrows suggestively. “I know all about what that click feels like.”
I wanted to give in to his dimples and sweet humor, but something inside me couldn’t let him off the hook that easily. “Why didn’t you tell me y’all dated?”
He shrugged. “It never came up, and it didn’t matter anyway. We said we weren’t going to talk about exes.”
“That’s technically true,” I said. “But, when Holden gave you a black eye, I didn’t say, ‘Oh, yeah, he’s just some annoying guy I went to college with.”
Ben rubbed my leg. “But, babe. Come on. Laura Anne didn’t punch you out by the pool.”
I rolled my eyes. “No, you’re right. She didn’t. In fact, I’ve yet to meet her. I’m not even sure she exists.”
Ben’s expression changed to that one I couldn’t resist. It was that look that reminded me, no matter what the circumstances, that he worshipped the ground I walked on.
“TL, I fell for you so hard and so fast I haven’t taken a breath to look back.
Why talk about the past when the present is everything you’ve ever dreamed of? ”
I rolled my eyes, but I could feel myself softening. He kissed me and said, “I wasn’t expecting you home for at least another hour, so I’m only about halfway through Die Hard.” Then he winked. “But I could be persuaded to pause it for later.”
I willed that prickle of heat up my spine to go away, not quite ready to make up this soon. “Ugh,” I said. “I’m going to take a bath.”
I walked down the pristine white runner in the hallway, glancing over at the sunset blanketing the pool, tucking in our little corner of town for the night. I could feel my anger beginning to dissipate when the phone I was still holding in my hand rang. And I was mad all over again.
“Oh, hi, Mrs. Taylor,” I said, as though she hadn’t totally shaken my world an hour earlier.
“Annabelle, darling, I wanted to talk to you about the Spring Fling, but you ran out before I got the chance.”
I could feel my eyes rolling toward heaven.
Maybe I was asking God to help save me from this woman.
I was supposed to “just pick the art” for this party, yet, somehow, I had managed to get so many jobs that the title of “chair” was affixed to my forehead with superglue, though no one ever actually asked.
In my head, I screamed: Leave me the hell alone. I can handle one damn fund-raiser.
But, instead, I said, “I’m so sorry I had to rush out.
Ben wanted me to come home. You know how it is with newlyweds, hard to be apart for even a second!
” It was a lie, but I hoped it emphasized to her that we were such a perfect couple that all of what he and Laura Anne had was totally eclipsed by a single night at home.
She laughed in that haughty way. “Well, I just wanted to let you know that I’m sure the gala has gotten to be a lot more than you bargained for—”
It had gotten to be a lot more than I had bargained for between soliciting corporate donations, getting auction items, negotiating with the band, the food, the flowers, the bar, the artists .
. . But I would never, ever have acted like I couldn’t handle it, so I said, “Oh, no. Not at all. I’m thrilled to do my part. ”
“Well, what I was saying is that it has been so much work for one person that the committee and I decided to get you a co-chair.”
I actually felt sort of relieved. “Oh, great! Who did you have in mind?”
“Only the best party planner in town, sweetheart.”
I could feel the lump growing in my throat, and that nausea rising again, this time coupled with a lump that meant I was in serious danger of crying. I knew who the best party planner in town was without even asking. But I thrust myself onto the sword anyway. “Oh, who is that?”
“Why, Laura Anne, of course.”