Chapter 9
Nine
Home Sweet Home
It should feel ugly, the cold satisfaction that curls in my belly when Mrs. Jacobson sees me walk into the rehearsal dinner.
But I love every second. The double take, the flash of shock and anger before her perfect mask is back on.
Unobtrusive for once, Eris trails behind me.
My presence alone was enough to make her facade crack, just for a second; my chest glows in delight.
The Cheery Chicken (the bar where every large gathering in Solberg is held, because it’s the only restaurant that rents out the back patio that overlooks the river for private events) is a few blocks from our hotel.
Even that short walk was a reminder that I no longer belong here.
Between the bemused looks from people who pretended not to recognize me, and the comments about the weather that strangers exchange in lieu of greetings, Eris quickly agreed with me that Solberg is a small town rendition of The Stepford Wives.
So the Jacobsons fit right in. Rushing through the crowded patio, Matt’s mom greets me too loudly, too friendly to be genuine. “Blake! I had no idea you would be here!” She gives me an air kiss, her fingers gripping tight on my forearms.
“Last minute addition.” I return her faux-enthusiasm in kind, my own hands forming claws around her wrists.
After a lifetime of being her neighbor, my fake side comes naturally.
My forced smile turns simpering, so Mrs. Jacobsen can’t ignore that I’m putting on the same airs she is.
“My invitation must have been lost in the mail. Happened to my parents, too!” I screw my face up in dramatized confusion.
“Strange, I wonder how that could have happened?”
Her eyes flash, but her plastic smile stays put. “Yes, well. You showed up anyway!”
“I wouldn’t miss this for the world!” Causing any hint of this woman’s anger fills me with delight.
The spiteful shell that protected me from Mrs. Jacobson’s passive-aggressive suggestions and backhanded compliments my whole childhood is no longer mere armor.
My resentment has grown petty roots in my heart, nearly as nourishing and motivating as my parents’ love.
Mrs. Jacobson’s eyes slide over to Eris, who comes around to stand next to me in zis full genderfuck glory.
Her perfect smile slips in shock. To my surprise, my gut reaction isn’t that cold satisfaction.
In its place, a surge of protectiveness makes my stomach clench.
How dare this bitch look at Eris with disdain?
Despite the curl of her lip, Eris stands proudly. A smirk teases the corners of zis mouth as ze and Mrs. Jacobson stare at each other.
Her sneer hits harder because Eris looks positively classy for once, with a sleeveless black turtleneck, neatly trimmed mustache, and a turquoise pendant and earrings that match zis septum ring.
The tattoos on Eris’s skull are sharp and vibrant thanks to a fresh undercut.
Zis tight black jeans, tucked into heeled boots, emphasize the shapeliness of zis thick calves.
Eris’s makeup is immaculate, the flower in zis chignon charming.
I wrap my arm around zis waist, pulling zim close. “Oh, where are my manners! This is Eris. Eris, this is Matt’s mother, Mrs. Jacobson.” Twenty years as neighbors, and I’m still not allowed to call her by her first name.
“Pleasure to meet you, ma’am.” Eris holds out a hand, which Mrs. Jacobson gingerly shakes. Her nostrils flare in a sharp sniff as she reads the “And I Say, Fuck It!” script tattooed on zis forearm. “Blake has told me so much about you.”
“Good things, I hope,” Mrs. Jacobson’s fake laugh is as annoying as ever.
Eris merely shrugs, which I deeply appreciate.
Mrs. Jacobson’s smile dims. “So, what do you do for work, Eris?”
“I’m a drug dealer.”
I choke, sputtering out, “You are not a drug dealer!”
“I sell cannabis for recreational and medicinal use, Blake. Pretty sure I’m a drug dealer.”
“Ze manages a licensed dispensary,” I cough out, trying to reassure Mrs. Jacobson that Eris is not a criminal.
Her very strong opinions on marijuana haven’t changed since the Reagan administration.
She is the reason my parents grow and smoke exclusively in the basement; she would absolutely call the DEA.
Even though it’s legal…now. I think. Actually, my parents are probably over the legal limit with how many plants they have.
Instead of engaging further in that conversation, Matt’s mom looks to the entrance. “Oh, there’s the happy couple! Finally!”
That’s all the warning I have before Matt knocks into Eris and me again, like an overeager puppy. “Oh my god, you guys look so hot! You even dress alike!”
Eris and I exchange a confused look as Matt hugs us. I’m wearing a black linen button-up, adorned with a gold chain between the collar studs, and pleated shorts that hang past my knee. I guess we’re both in black, and for Matt, that’s apparently enough.
“Matt, I’m not sure you should call anyone but your bride-to-be ‘hot’ the night before you get married,” Mrs. Jacobson hisses through a gritted smile. “Especially your ex!”
Matt smiles blankly, his usual answer when his mom says something he disagrees with.
A shriek of my name makes me turn just as another ball of energy collides with my middle, squeezing me tight.
This ray of sunshine is all blond curls and vanilla perfume.
White maxi dress swirling, Allie bounces in excitement.
She steps back from crushing her face to my chest to give me a once-over.
“Fuck, you look good! I missed your sexy ass!”
Before I can respond, she whirls to face Eris, enveloping zim in a hug before ze can react. “Oh my god, you must be Eris! I’m so jealous Matt got to meet you first!”
“Matt, Allie, darlings, your wedding isn’t for socializing with your…friends.” Mrs. Jacobson pries Allie away from Eris and nudges her towards Matt. “Go, mingle with your other guests! You’ll have plenty of time to catch up with Blake and her friend. Later.”
Allie’s smile falls, and I want to punch Matt’s mom.
“Their,” Eris says, breaking the silence. “I’m their… Well, friend isn’t the right word, but I’m theirs. Not hers.”
My curl of satisfaction from the vein twitching in Mrs. Jacobson’s temple twists into a glow of euphoria.
Matt, despite correcting everyone else, has never corrected his parents.
I’ve always been my own guard dog—and his—when it came to the Jacobsons.
I have never expected anyone else to take up that mantle, especially not Eris.
I take Eris’s hand and shoot zim an appreciative smile. “Weddings are to celebrate with loved ones, right? I’m sure people will understand if they spend some time with us.”
“No, it’s all right!” Allie insists, her smile twisting. She and Matt exchange a loaded glance when he puts a hand on her back. “We should go greet everyone, but I’ll be back to hear all about you soon, Eris!”
Mrs. Jacobson herds them away. Matt and Allie send us twin exasperated looks over their shoulders, but follow her anyway.
“So that’s Allie.” I turn to Eris, who stares at me with a perplexed expression. Thanks to zis heels, ze’s almost at eye level, and my self-consciousness blooms under zis close inspection. “What? Do I have something on my face?”
“Everything makes so much more sense now.” Ze turns and heads to the bar.
“What does that mean?” I hurry after zim, careful not to let my gait dip; Matt would give me so much shit for barely doing my PT since I’ve moved.
As we weave through the crowd, I recognize some of Matt’s friends, but they pretend not to see me.
Which I’m totally fine with. I’m more interested in debriefing with Eris than forcing a conversation with people who’ve barely spared me a thought in two years.
Eris ignores my question to order a glass of wine from the outdoor bar.
The only other free option is beer, so I order the same.
The place is crowded, as far as Solberg goes, and everyone has formed circles to socialize in.
Joining them is always awkward, so Eris and I unspokenly weave around the cliques to find somewhere out of the way.
When we’ve found a corner along the railing to occupy, I ask again. “What do you mean, it makes sense now?”
“Look, they’re golden retrievers.” Eris shrugs, taking in the sight of the small town clinging to the riverbank with interest. The waterfall upriver rushes over the dam.
Ze jerks zis back toward Allie and Matt across the patio.
“They’re goofy, and cute, and eager to please, and want everyone to be happy, and they’ll take it personally if you don’t.
No wonder you felt you had to prove you’re not a sad fuck. ”
“I’m not a sad fuck,” I lie. Because I am a sad fuck.
Eris gestures across the patio, where Matt and Allie have been roped into a conversation with his high school football coach.
“These two ridiculously attractive sweethearts looked at you, with their puppy dog eyes, and begged for reassurance that they weren’t ruining your life by getting together.
And you pretend to be nice, so you had to make them stop feeling guilty for putting themselves first. It’s all clear now! ”
I smack zis arm. “I am nice!” I want people to think so, anyway.
Ze grins and smacks my arm right back. “In some ways, maybe. But you’re no Matt and Allie.
Which is good, because they must have the worst anxiety.
” Ze slurps zis wine. “And his mom is a piece of work. Gotta love control issues! Reminds me of my mom,” Eris laughs.
Zis loud, high-pitched cackle draws quite a few gazes.
I meet their looks with a set of my chin, daring them to say anything. Almost everyone looks away, because they’re all small-town Lutherans. Avoiding conflict is a cultural norm here.
But one person looks back, her eyes narrowing.
If I hadn’t already seen Allie, I would have done a double take. But this woman is wearing a blush pink version of Allie’s white maxi dress, and the expression on her face is anything but the eager, bright-eyed grin that always made me feel like I belonged.
“Oh, god, incoming,” I mutter, forcing a smile as Allie’s bitchy twin sister makes a beeline for us. Eris slides zis hand into mine, lacing our fingers together. Zis reassuring strength helps me breathe a little easier as Jessica scurries between the clusters of people.
“What are you doing here?” she hisses in lieu of a hello.
“Jessica! How lovely to see you!” I repeat my fake-nice song and dance like I did for Matt’s mom, my forced smile cold. “This is my… Eris! Eris, this is Allie’s twin sister! And the maid of honor, right? How exciting, being the maid of honor for your twin!”
“You aren’t supposed to be here.” Jessica doesn’t play along.
She never does. Allie and Jessica are from Edina, but Allie fell in love with the quiet of Solberg.
She dreaded moving home so much that my parents offered her the spare bedroom at our house, so she could stay longer.
Not that she dislikes her sister—I doubt Allie could dislike anyone, and she loves her sister dearly—but college was the first time she could escape her family’s smothering embrace.
“Allie and Matt invited me.” I glower, dropping the nice act since Jessica isn’t pretending either. Despite Allie’s insistence otherwise, her sister has never liked me. From Jessica’s perspective, I stole her twin. “Because someone stole my invitation.”
Jessica crosses her arms, blue eyes cold. “You should have known better.”
I shrug as Eris’s hand squeezes mine in reassurance. “Their wedding, their guest list.”
“Maybe Matt wants you here, but Allie doesn’t,” Jessica snips.
“Weird, it must have been a different Allie who mailed me a handwritten letter, begging me to come.” I roll my eyes.
Jessica scoffs. “Allie doesn’t know what she wants—”
“How old were you?” Eris interrupts.
“What?” Jessica glares at zim.
Eris smiles sweetly, cocking zis head. Voice bright and airy, ze asks, “How old were you when you realized you were the ugly twin?”
I snort as Jessica bristles. “We’re identical,” she says.
“On the outside, sure.” Eris nods with a sympathetic pout.
Jessica huffs. “I don’t know what game you think you’re playing, but you need to leave.”
“No, Matt and Allie want us here,” I say, relieved when Allie notices us and rushes over to run interference.
“You won’t get him back,” Jessica snaps.
“What?” My heart drops; how could anyone possibly think I’m here to get Matt back?
“You’re here to steal my sister’s happiness, and I can’t let you do that. This,” she waves at Eris, “must be part of the plan to get him back.”
“This is a person, thanks,” Eris deadpans.
But I’m looking at Allie, who freezes a few feet away, staring right at me. Her blue eyes widen as her sister’s words sink in.
Disbelief paralyzing me, I only manage to shake my head. Willing Allie to understand I would never want anything but the best for her and Matt, that I’m not there to cause trouble.
But Allie just looks back, her brow furrowed and her lips parted, trembling.
“Who would pick you over Matt? There’s no way this is real.”
Eris opens zis mouth to retort, but I break first. “Shut up, Jessica!” My eyes burn with hurt that Allie is listening to her sister’s bullshit, from the anger at myself for lying in the first place.
That ugly defensiveness for Eris rears its head, and my emotional turmoil gratefully takes a backseat.
“Don’t you dare talk to zim like that! Eris is incredible, and gorgeous, and funny.
Just because you’re jealous and bitter doesn’t mean I am. ”
Jessica sputters. “I am not jealous!”
“You were jealous that Sigurdsson rejected you, jealous of any friend Allie’s ever had, and now you can’t stand that Allie’s happier than you.
” The cold venom leaking into my voice is luscious.
I might regret exposing my ugly side to Solberg’s ridicule later, but right now I couldn’t stop myself if I tried.
“This wedding looks more like the one you’ll never have than hers.
Allie fucking hates pink, and if you cared about her more than yourself, you would get that by now.
” With a glare, I push past her, pulling Eris along behind me by the hand. “Let’s go.”
In my rush to escape, I stride right through the closed circles of conversation instead of going around, ignoring the mutters of how rude I am, comments on our appearance, questions of why Matt’s ex is here.
When I glance over my shoulder at all the judgmental eyes watching us leave, Allie is nowhere to be seen.