Chapter 27
Twenty-Seven
Brad
What was I thinking, bringing her here where people knew Mary Alice and would naturally ask about her when they saw me with another woman?
Honestly, it never occurred to me that there were people who knew us who haven’t heard she died.
Thanks to Angela’s proximity to the president and first lady, it was a big story when their brother-in-law died of fentanyl poisoning.
I assume the entire world knows about what happened to all the victims, but why would they pay that kind of attention?
What was a nuclear bomb in my life barely registered to others.
I’m out of sorts after Callie’s shock at seeing me with someone who isn’t Mary Alice, as if I’m cheating on my wife or something. Or maybe she thinks it’s too soon for me to be out with someone else.
“Do you want to go?” Angela asks quietly.
I realize I’ve been in a heck of a brood for quite a few minutes.
“No, I’m sorry. That was just…”
“I know. I get it. What’re you thinking?”
“Did she think I was cheating on my wife at a place we used to go together? Is she appalled that I’m already out with someone new? And why do I care what she thinks?”
“From everything I’ve read and heard, dating again is the most fraught of all the terribly fraught young widow challenges. Everyone has opinions, and they feel free to share them with someone who’s so tender and raw that the words lacerate deeply.”
I’m nodding from the first use of the word fraught. It’s all so fraught with peril and heartache and sadness and hope. “Don’t they know… We’d give anything to go back to who and what we were the day before? That we’d give anything to not have lost the person we loved the most?”
“All they see is someone who used to be married venturing out with someone new. They see blood in the water.”
“They need to get a life and stay out of mine.”
“Point of order… Callie didn’t do anything wrong. She was just surprised because she hadn’t heard about Mary Alice.”
“I wonder how that’s possible with all the publicity the story got.”
“Thanks to my connection to the first couple.”
“And because the fentanyl topic is one that gets a lot of attention, especially in a situation like ours.”
“Yes, that, too.”
“It’s astonishing to me that someone who knew us didn’t know she died. It never occurred to me that some people hadn’t heard.”
A waitress comes to the table, apologizes for the wait, and recites the list of specials and takes our drink order.
Angela asks for a glass of Chardonnay, while I have a draft beer.
“Brad.”
I glance at her.
“You haven’t done anything wrong. You’re doing everything you can to get through the worst tragedy of your life, and you shouldn’t feel guilty.”
“Do you? Feel guilty at all, being here with me?”
“Only in the sense that changing my mindset from married to single is taking more time than I thought it would. But despite that, I’m single and free to do what I want with whomever I want. As are you.”
“I’m trying to imagine what it would be like to be out with someone who didn’t understand what this is like.”
“It would be even harder than this is.”
The waitress returns with our drinks and takes our dinner order. I order enchiladas, while Angela requests the fish tacos.
“You know what the good news is?” she asks after taking a sip of her wine.
“There’s good news?”
“Always. And the good news is, you loved Mary Alice so much that it pains you to be moving on without her. I’d be concerned if that wasn’t the case, you know?”
“I get that and same goes. Hearing you talk about Spencer has helped me get to know you.”
She holds up her glass for a toast. “Enough of the hard stuff. We’re supposed to be having fun, so let’s get going with that.”
I touch my glass to hers. “I’ll drink to fun.”
“To fun.”
Angela
After the rough start, we manage to salvage our evening. Even though we’re relieved to have the break from our kids, we end up talking about them and sharing funny stories about things they’ve said and done.
I laughed as hard as I have in months when he told me about Drake bringing him the first poop he did in the potty, carrying it like a badge of honor.
On the way home, he reaches for my hand again.
“This was fun,” he says. “Thanks for helping me through the rough spot.”
“No problem, and it was fun. It’s nice to get a break from all the things.”
“I don’t know how you do it with three, including a baby.”
“Luckily, he’s an angel, and he’s made it easy on his single mom.”
“Still. Three’s a lot.”
“So is two. Hell, one is a lot.”
“You know what else is a lot? Five. Five is a lot a lot.”
I laugh at the way he says that. “Sure is, but we’re a long way from having five kids together, so let’s slow our roll, pal.”
“I’m just saying… If we were to go the distance, there’re five kids waiting for us at the finish line. Is that off-putting for you?”
“Not at all, but you’re the one who would be getting three more, so I should be asking you that.”
“I’m not put off. I already love your kids.”
“Likewise, but this is a heavy topic for a first date between two widows and single parents.”
“Yes, it is, but because we’re widowed single parents, it’s probably never too soon for any topic.
Lotta people involved in this friendship of ours.
If, say, one of us had an aversion to the idea of raising someone else’s kids, that might be a good thing to learn at the outset versus a few months down the road when everyone is more heavily invested. See what I mean?”
“I have no such aversion.”
“Nor do I.” He glances my way, grinning. “Good to know, right?”
“Indeed.” He’s so cute when he’s pleased with himself.
My phone rings with a call from Tracy that puts me on high alert, as she’d never call me unless something was wrong. “Hey.”
“So… a friend just texted me a picture of you with Brad tonight. She said she saw it on social media with a caption about how quickly you got over your dead husband.”
I’m going to be sick.
“What?” Brad asks. “What’s wrong?”
I put my phone on speaker. “C-can you say that again, Trace?”
After she repeats it, he says, “Oh my God,” and pulls over into the breakdown lane on 395 North.
I open the door, desperate for air as I deeply regret the fish tacos. “What do we do, Trace? Tell me what to do.”
“I called Sam, and she’s got Lilia and Roni on it.
They’ll put out a statement that the violation of your privacy is egregious in light of your tragic loss and anyone throwing shade at a widow ought to be ashamed of themselves.
Something to that effect. Also, she feels sick that this happened because you’re related to her. ”
“It’s not her fault that people can’t mind their own freaking business.”
When Brad hands me a tissue, I realize I’m crying, which makes me even angrier. I was having such a nice time.
“Are you okay with them putting out a statement?” Tracy asks.
“Yeah, it’s fine. Well, it’s not fine, but someone’s gotta say it. May as well be her.”
“She’s very upset. I’m sure you’ll hear from her when she calms down.”
“We’re almost home.”
“See you when you get here, and sorry to have to call you with this nonsense.”
“Thanks for the heads-up. My phone is vibrating nonstop, which means everyone I know is texting me.”
“Ignore it all for now. It’ll keep.”
“Yeah, okay. I will. Be home soon.”
After we end the call, I stare straight ahead into the odd fluorescent light that makes it look like daytime on the interstate that cuts through the District.
“I’m sorry that happened,” Brad says. “We should’ve stayed in.”
“No, we shouldn’t have had to worry about such a thing. People need to mind their own freaking business.”
“That’s true, but still… We gave them the opportunity.”
“We didn’t do anything wrong! We had dinner, for crying out loud. Since when are widows not allowed to have dinner with a member of the opposite sex?”
“You said sex.”
Laughter explodes from my chest. I laugh so hard, I see stars. I’m literally crying from laughing, which is much better than crying from heartbreak. “Ahhh,” I say after a long siege of hilarity. “Thank you for that. I needed it.”
“You’re beautiful all the time, but when you laugh… Wow.”
“Aw, thanks. You haven’t seen much of my laughter side. Used to be a lot of that once upon a time. It’s good to know I still can.”
“Let’s do more of that and less of the sad shit, okay?”
I look over at him and smile as I nod.
He crooks a finger to bring me closer and leans across the center console to kiss me—and I let him. It’s a good kiss, soft, sweet and full of the promise of things to come. And when we pull back from each other, he’s smiling. “Our first kiss was on the side of the road on 395.”
“Maybe we should post a sign to mark the spot.”
“I won’t forget it.”
“Neither will I.”
Iris
The furor that explodes around Angela and her friend Brad is horrific and disgusting.
Social media is on fire, and the whole world suddenly has an opinion about what constitutes “too soon” for a widow to begin a new relationship.
The Wild Widows are in an uproar over it.
Even Taylor has texted to ask if Angela is okay and if she can do anything to help.
Angela is most definitely not okay, but she’s keeping her head down, taking care of her kids and trying to mostly ignore the online dissection of her life and choices.
From what she’s told me, Brad is doing the same.
Her sister’s White House communications team has been outstanding with devastating take-downs of people who have opinions on a topic they’re lucky to know nothing about.
Some have gone so far as to suggest Angela should return the money raised by the GoFundMe since she was able to move on so quickly after the loss of her husband. And how is more than eighteen months considered “quickly”?
It’s disgusting and heartbreaking for all of us who understand what she’s been through and how taking that first step forward is such a big deal, only to have a nightmare unfold as a result.
She told me last night she’s still planning to attend the wedding and won’t let nasty people dictate how she lives her life.
However, she won’t be bringing Brad, as she’d originally planned.
That hurts my heart for both of them. I hope they can hold on to the friendship they were forming when all hell broke loose.
Gage comes into our room, where I’m curled up on the chaise, answering the multitude of texts that’ve come in over the last few hours as the Wild Widows went to battle for Angela—and themselves by extension.
I’m so proud of the comments they’ve left on some of the nastier posts about how lucky those people are to not have any clue what Angela and Brad have been through.
Our team is doing good work out there, and I couldn’t be prouder of them.
I’m staying behind the scenes so I won’t let this situation take over my life at a time when I should be focused on Gage, the kids and our wedding later today.
My hair and makeup team is coming in hot in an hour, but until then, I’m trying to relax and decompress while Mimi and Stan have Eleanor and the four kids out to lunch.
Naturally, Mimi has bonded with Eleanor and declared Carter to be her fourth adopted grandchild. I couldn’t love her more.
“How’s it going in command central?” Gage asks when he sits at the foot of the chaise. We debated spending last night and today apart out of superstition and decided to hell with that. We wanted to spend this day like we do all the others—together.
“Pretty good, all things considered.”
“And you’re staying offline and out of the fray?”
“I am but still getting a few reports here and there.”
“No reports allowed. This is your day, and the others are taking good care of Angela and Brad.”
“Yes, they sure are. I’m so proud of them.”
“Me, too. We’ve raised them well.”
I laugh and hold out a hand to him. “We’ve helped to give them the tools they need to fight back in a situation like this, and that’s why what we do with the Wild Widows is so important and necessary.”
“Does that mean you’ve decided to stay fully involved?”
“I have, and it’s because I want to, not because I feel I have to. Imagine Angela facing something like this without the support of our group.”
“I can’t.”
“Exactly. We can’t let these sweet, wounded people fend for themselves in this unforgiving world.”
“No, we really can’t,” he says, “and this situation with Angela and Brad has made me see that, too. Imagine if this had happened to us when we were first together and didn’t have the amazing support of the widows to prop us up. We might never have gotten to this day.”
“Oh, we would’ve gotten here one way or the other, but having their support definitely helped.”
“Would you have crawled naked into bed with me with a justice of the peace waiting at the bedside to entrap me into marriage?”
“If that’s what it took, but mad props for your vivid imagination.”
As he settles into my embrace, I run my fingers through his hair, which he had cut shorter than usual for the wedding. I like it longer and unruly, the way it usually is, but the haircut makes him look almost boyish, which is adorable. “You’ve inspired my vivid imagination with your shenanigans.”
“Whatever could you be referring to?”
“Gee, I wonder. Hey, babe?”
“Yes, dear?”
“I want you to know… I’ve had two other best days of my life when I married Natasha and had the girls, and I expect today to be the third one.
In some ways, this one is even bigger than the other two because, for a long time, I never imagined I’d have anything like what I do with you and the kids. Thank you for that.”
“Oh, Gage, my love… Thank you for everything. You not only overcame your fears of more loss to take me on, but you’ve become so important to the kids. They love you even more than I do, which I wouldn’t have thought possible.”
“How lucky are we in the great aftermath of disaster?”
“Luckier than most and smart enough to know it.”
He kisses the back of my left hand, on which I wear his ring. “What do you say we make it official?”
“I say yes to everything.”
“That makes you the best wife in history.”
“I can’t wait to be your wife.”
“I can’t wait either.”