Chapter 34
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
“Ouch!” I yelp as the tennis ball slams into my side. Glancing across the court, I catch Monica’s brief smirk before it morphs into fake concern.
“Oh, Charlotte, dear, I am so sorry. I thought you were ready,” she coos.
Of course you did. Trying to conceal my annoyance, I offer a curt nod, saying nothing as the match continues. It’s Thursday, which means another thrilling day at the Kessler Tennis Club—the social nexus for anyone who’s anyone within twenty miles of Somerville.
As for Monica hitting me with the ball? Let’s face it, she did that on purpose. Monica’s been trying to bully me since high school when I blossomed early and she…well, didn’t. Her resentment has fueled years of petty acts. Like the time she “accidentally” spilled punch on my homecoming dress, or when she started that vicious rumor about me and the chemistry teacher. All our friends turned against me for a while over that. Even now, it’s hard to think of those times, of how I dealt with the pressure from them and my mother’s constant criticism. It was Dad who helped me through it, got me into therapy when he found out I was cutting. I imagine I can feel the scars on my thighs itch when I think about them now. But years of therapy have helped me develop healthier ways to process my emotions.
So when Monica tosses out her backhanded compliments about my wedding plans or makes not-so-subtle digs about my figure, I can let it roll off my back. Well, mostly. Lately I feel like I’ve been stumbling back to my high school ways. Among all the stress about the wedding, the urge to cut myself has returned.
For now, I channel my frustrations into winning the match. My partner, Cara Dawson, and I have dominated today’s doubles game—much to Monica’s poorly concealed chagrin. I’ve always been a better player than Monica, and she knows it. I pull out a ball tucked under my pale blue tennis skirt and serve the final shot, which Monica leaps for and misses. She lands on the ground with a loud thud.
That’s karma, Monica. I don’t try to conceal the tiny smile on my face. A few minutes later, the four of us saunter over to the water station, and Monica sidles up next to me.
“Great match today, Charlotte.”
“You too, Monica,” I acknowledge coolly, sipping my cucumber water.
“So,” Cara chirps, flinging her light blonde ponytail over her shoulder as she stands next to us, “did ya’ll hear who Zach Caldwell is dating?”
My ears perk up involuntarily. Zach and I dated from our senior year in high school all the way through college. Everyone thought we would get married, that we were the perfect couple. But when he finally popped the question, I said no. I just couldn’t marry him; it didn’t feel right. Zach was crushed, of course. I second-guessed my decision to end things for months afterward.
That is, until that first date with Tucker. Then it all made sense. I could never have loved Zach the way I do Tucker. But I still keep tabs on Zach. Just in case.
“Oh yes, he’s been seeing that little baker, Reese Montgomery, for a few months. I heard he’s completely smitten.”
I nearly choke on my water. Zach’s dating Reese? It’s like a punch to the gut. Not only has Reese been flirting with my fiancé, but now she’s dating my ex-boyfriend too?
“Are you okay, Charlotte?” Monica asks, her eyes gleaming.
“Yes, I’m just fine,” I manage, my voice steadier than I feel.
Monica sets down her glass. “You know, I always thought Zach would never get over you. But it turns out all it took was a little cupcake for him to move on.”
Cara rolls her eyes. “Very funny, Monica.”
“I think that’s great,” I say, putting down my glass. “I’ve always wanted Zach to be happy.”
Okay, it’s not a complete lie. I do want Zach to be happy, but I did always like the idea that he carried a candle for me, even after we broke up. It was comforting, in a way, to think that someone out there still pined for me.
“See you all next week!” Cara says, breaking my thoughts. The four of us take her cue to split and head for the parking lot. As I settle into my car, I keep replaying the words over and over in my head.
Zach is dating Reese.
I should be relieved, right? If she’s dating Zach that means she has no interest in my fiancé. And with the way Tucker has been “dropping in” to the bakery, I was beginning to get concerned.
A few hours later, I step into my kitchen and freeze. There, on the counter, sits a white box emblazoned with the gold “Couture Cakes” logo. I stifle a groan. It feels like I can’t escape Reese’s presence; this woman has somehow managed to weasel her way into every aspect of my life—even my new kitchen.
Tucker appears beside me, planting a kiss on my cheek. His face brightens with a smile that doesn’t quite ease my tension.
“I thought you might like a little treat,” he says warmly. “I know things have been stressful lately with all the wedding planning.”
I force a smile in return, lifting the lid to peer inside. I suppose he meant it as a peace offering after our latest argument, but the sight of the perfectly frosted cupcakes only makes my stomach churn.
“Thank you,” I say, my voice carefully neutral. “Did you pick them up on your way home from work?”
Tucker nods, his gaze flickering away from mine for just a moment. “Yeah, I had a meeting downtown and figured I’d stop by the shop. Reese mentioned that she’d been experimenting with some new flavors.”
There it is again, that name. Reese. The way it rolls off his tongue so easily, like it’s been on the forefront of his mind all day. Jealousy flares in my chest, hot and sharp.
“How thoughtful of her,” I say, my tone just a touch too bright. “I’m sure she’s thrilled to have such a loyal customer.”
Tucker frowns, his brow furrowing in confusion. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I sigh, pushing the box away from me. “Nothing, Tucker. It’s just…don’t you think it’s a little strange, how much time you’ve been spending at the bakery lately? I mean, we’ve already chosen our wedding cake. What else is there to discuss?”
His eyes flash with anger. “For goodness’ sake, Charlotte, it’s just cupcakes. I’m just trying to support a local small business. Why do you have to read into everything?”
I can feel my own temper rising, the resentment that’s been simmering under the surface for weeks now threatening to boil over. “Because every time I turn around, you’re talking about her. Reese this, Reese that. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were more excited about the damn cake than you are about marrying me.”
Tucker slams his hand down on the counter, making me jump. “That’s ridiculous, and you know it. I love you, Charlotte. I wouldn’t be putting up with all this wedding crap, not to mention your mother, if I didn’t.”
His words sting like a slap across the face. Putting up with . Like our wedding is some kind of burden, a cross he has to bear. Tears well up in my eyes, but I blink them back, refusing to let him see how much he’s hurt me.
“Fine,” I say, my voice cold and clipped. “I’m going to bed.”
“Charlotte—” he says, reaching out to me.
I turn on my heel and stalk out of the room, leaving Tucker standing there with his well-intentioned box of cupcakes. I know he’ll come climbing into bed later, apologizing. Maybe this time, I’ll be the one pretending to sleep. When I take my first step on the staircase, exhaustion hits me like a wave—not just physical fatigue from tennis, but a bone-deep weariness from constantly maintaining this facade of perfection.
The wedding is barely a week away, and it feels like everything is unraveling at the seams. Is this normal? Do all brides-to-be feel like their fiancés can barely tolerate them? Like they’re one minor setback away from a complete breakdown?
I reach the bedroom door and briefly turn my head back toward the kitchen. I can’t shake the idea that Tucker is hiding something from me. I can feel it.