Chapter 5
MY FIRST INSTINCT IS to look for the camera, like I’m back on LovedBy.
My roller bag is still in the foyer, and for an instant, I think about running. Back to the Jeep, back to Atlanta, all the way back to LA. I might not have an apartment at the moment, but I could go live in my storage unit. Or on Sybil’s couch. Anywhere but here.
My mom pulls free of the hug and must catch the look of near terror on my face. Understanding, or maybe sympathy, flashes briefly across her face, but it’s quickly replaced by determination. “Nikki, can you say hello to Cara, please? Make sure she feels welcome?”
Make sure Cara feels welcome? Why aren’t they pushing her out of the house and salting the earth behind her? Did they all know she was coming? How did no one think to tell me, to warn me? A scream claws its way up from stomach and through my rib cage, but I choke it down once it reaches my throat.
“Cara,” I force myself to say. “It’s so nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too,” she says, not actually making eye contact with me. “I was really looking forward to it!” It’s probably the fakest-sounding enthusiasm I’ve ever heard, and that’s coming from me. I’ve heard plenty of fake niceties in my life.
I want to whirl on my family and demand an explanation for all this, but I can’t—not with my mom standing there with her “don’t you dare” eyes fixed on me.
Besides, this is not my first rodeo. I’ve seen enough girl fights on LovedBy to know that if I cause a scene now, I’ll be the villain.
So I bottle up the betrayal and the urge to bite Cara’s head off and lean into every Good Southern Girl’s secret weapon: passive-aggressive charm.
“I wish I’d known you were coming!” I say, giving her a big, theatrical smile, one that physically hurts my face. “You really love last-minute surprises, don’t you!”
I widen the grin another notch and see Cara’s own smile falter slightly. She knows exactly what I mean. The last time this girl “surprised” me, it was by coming out of the woodwork to reveal she’d secretly been dating my fiancé.
An awkward silence descends. Then Cara clears her throat, her eyes raking over me. “That’s such a cute short set, by the way. Is it from your clothing line?”
I glance down, remembering the car oil stains. Wow. The cattiness of that comment is next level, and we’ve literally just met. I guess Cara knows the Good Southern Girl’s tricks too.
“Aw, this is just a beta. But bless your heart, you’re too sweet,” I say. Then I turn away from her decisively. “Can I get everyone something to drink?” Any excuse to leave the room would do. I need to process. I need to… get the heck out of here.
The question spurs my mom into action, and she herds Cara and Cooper out to the porch where my dad is standing guard near his smoker. In all the commotion, I still haven’t had a chance to say hello to him.
“There’s some champagne in the fridge, hon,” my mom calls back to me, before I get the chance.
Champagne? That seems a little much. Since when did my parents start stocking champagne in the fridge?
“Sure!”
I allow myself three deep, calming breaths alone in the kitchen. What is going on, why have I been ambushed, why is this woman who is the face of the worst scandal of my life suddenly here in my home?
Okay, so they aren’t very calming breaths after all. I start assembling a tray of champagne flutes. Giving myself an immediate task is keeping me from totally losing my shit, and I am a master of not losing my shit, especially around this many people. Especially around family.
Sure enough, in the fridge are six bottles of champagne. My eyes narrow. I pull two out and fill a glass for each of the adults, tucking the remaining half-full bottle back in the fridge. My grip on the tray is tight.
On the porch, the breeze carries the mingled smells of pine, lake water, and grilling charcoal.
I walk down the wide wooden steps to the stone patio, where Pete’s husband, Tripp, stands beside my dad at the smoker.
Tripp, with his dark skin and even darker hair, stands nearly six inches taller than my dad, who is no shrimp himself, and seems to be consulting him on the temperature of the
pork.
“Hey, Daddy.” I lean over to give my father a kiss on the cheek and am engulfed by the smell of woodsmoke. The familiarity of it settles my panicky, confused energy at least a little bit.
“Good to have you home, kiddo.”
“Here, let me help you with those,” Tripp says to me, turning away from the smoker and taking a few flutes of champagne from the tray to help pass them out.
Linney rejoins the group with Anna Carol in a lopsided tiara and William wrapped in a fluffy yellow towel, looking unhappy to be out of the water.
“Hi, Aunt Nikki,” he says glumly.
“Hey, buddy,” I say back sympathetically. He looks about as miserable as I feel.
Everyone gathers on the porch—the kids scrambling into the wooden rocking chairs with Linney standing between them, Pete and Tripp leaning against the railing with their backs to the lake.
Dad comes over to give Mom a peck on the cheek as they stand near the doors to the house with Cara and Cooper.
I sit on the steps down to the lawn—putting as much space between myself and the happy couple as I can.
Once everyone has a glass of champagne, Cooper lifts his, like he’s about to make a toast.
Which is completely weird. He’s never made a toast in his life. It’s so… formal. I’d never made a champagne toast either before going on LovedBy.
As I watch his face, my stomach drops. A champagne toast… on the day we’re all meeting his girlfriend.
No. There’s no way…
“I’m so glad the whole family could be here this weekend,” he says. “And not just because the Fourth is my favorite holiday, but because I have some big news to share with y’all…”
Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.
Because this has to be a nightmare, right? Surely the thing I think is happening can’t actually be happening.
But then, it does.
“Cara and I are engaged!”
The announcement unleashes a flurry of congratulations and hugs from my family. My mom starts to cry. Tripp claps Cooper on the shoulder.
And this time, no amount of embedded manners can move me to politeness. I gape, looking from Linney to Pete to my dad. They all have the grace to look chagrined.
Chagrined, but not surprised.
None of them seemed surprised, and they’re not asking for details.
They’re not asking how Cara and Cooper met, or where Cara grew up.
It’s as if they already know these things.
As if they already know her. Instead, they’re asking about the drive over from Nashville, and the jewelry business, and how her dog is…
I know why I know these things. I have spent hours stalking her online presence, but there’s no way my dad should know this much about Cara’s bearded dragon, Ralph.
They’ve all met before, haven’t they? My brain whirs quickly… And there were six bottles of champagne in the fridge.
Six bottles means my mom knew something was up. And didn’t tell me.
“Have y’all set a date?” Tripp asks.
Cooper shakes his head. “We were thinking maybe next summer, but Cara’s planning to launch her retail location then, so we’ll see. Would be great to do something here at the lake though.”
Mom lights up at that, her whole face softening with a kind of glowing joy—and very clearly already planning the wedding in her head.
“We’re going to go freshen up before the Lancolms get here,” Cooper says, reaching out to thread his fingers through Cara’s. I notice for the first time a stunning yet simple engagement ring on her left hand.
When the screen door thwacks shut, I jolt back to life.
“Um, I’m sorry, but what the actual fuck?”
“Nicole!” my mother admonishes. “Language!”
“Hey, guys,” Linney says, clapping her hands, “why don’t you go get changed out of your suits for dinner.” She ushers William and Anna Carol into the house.
I blush, embarrassed to have dropped my composure—and an f-bomb—in front of the kids. Sorry, I mouth to Linney. She just shrugs and waves a hand as if to say, Girl, I get it.
“But seriously,” I hiss, coming to stand with my family on the porch. “You all knew? You’ve met her before?”
“Just once,” Linney admits. “Mom and Dad have met her a few times…”
I look to my mother, feeling a stab of betrayal. Her gaze remains fixed on the champagne glass in her hand.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“Cooper asked us not to,” Pete says. I feel another flare of anger, and it must show on my face because Pete adds, “I think he didn’t want to upset you.
They had just started seeing each other.
It didn’t seem worth all the drama of telling you, since things might not work out between them anyway.
But I guess…” He winces. “I guess they did end up working out.”
“How long have they been together?”
“Five months,” my mother answers, meeting my eyes for the first time since Cooper shared the news.
“Five!?”
“And I did tell you your brother was getting serious…”
“Yeah, all of five minutes before she arrived. And you didn’t tell me who he was getting serious with,” I fire back.
A wounded look flashes across Mom’s face, and I force myself to take a deep breath.
“Okay,” I say, even though nothing is remotely okay.
“Fine. Let’s set aside the… you know”—I gesture vaguely—“Cara of it all. Are you guys really okay with Cooper getting married? To anyone? Especially someone he’s only known for a few months?
That’s not enough time to fall in love and know if you want to spend the rest of your life with someone. ”
“Isn’t that exactly what you did on LovedBy?” Pete says, unhelpfully. Tripp elbows him in the ribs and throws me an apologetic glance.
“Yes,” I snap at my older brother. “And look how that turned out.” I spin around and stomp back into the house, letting the door slam behind me.