Chapter Five Lucy
Chapter Five
Lucy
I’m manically chewing the edge of my thumbnail and tapping my toe on the floor of the bar where I’m drowning my sorrows.
I just don’t know how I’m going to tell Katherine that we didn’t find a house on the Cape.
Of course, Katherine will be entirely understanding—that’s who Katherine is.
Understanding. Sweet. Caring. But no matter her reaction, I’m going to feel like the hopeless little sister who can’t do anything right compared to her.
“What about something in the Hamptons?” Charlotte suggests.
Charlotte and I have been friends since we were three years old.
She’s seen me through every lost tooth and broken heart.
She knew me when I was a ragbag of lost schoolbooks and stained T-shirts.
And she knows me now, when I’m all spreadsheets and patent pumps.
Charlotte knows all the versions of me, and most importantly, she accepts them all.
She knows I’m not the same scruffy teenager I used to be—the one my mother still thinks I am.
Just like I know she’s no longer a Belieber.
Times have changed.
“There’s just so much more inventory there.”
“You know I love the Hamptons, but Katherine wants to be on the Cape. I think being in Massachusetts is the most important factor. Apart from being with Ed.” I sigh and tip my head back.
“We could look at a hotel, I suppose, but none of the fancy ones have enough rooms—I’ve already checked.
Even if they did, oceanfront rooms for a party our size would be cost prohibitive. ”
“Katherine will understand,” Charlotte says. “It’s all very last minute, considering.”
Considering Ed and Katherine have been together forever.
Ed wanted his business to be more established before they tied the knot, because he knows Katherine wants children as soon as they’re married.
He wants to be financially stable before they start a family.
Once he felt ready, everything started happening in fast-forward.
I’m happy for them that they feel ready for this next phase in their lives.
I just wish they’d given us all a little more time to plan.
“You’re right,” I say. “Katherine will understand. But that’s not the point. I wanted to be able to give her what she wants. She’s such a good person, who does so much for everyone else. She should have an incredible send-off into her marriage.”
Charlotte raises an eyebrow.
“What?” I ask defensively. “It’s true.”
“That might be part of the reason you want to throw the perfect bachelorette. But it’s not the only reason.”
I shrug. “So sue me for wanting people to see I’ve grown up.”
“Your mom’s going to be there?”
I nod. “Just for the dinner on Saturday. She’s not staying over.
Same for my aunt and her two daughters.” Charlotte wrinkles her nose.
She met my cousins years ago, but they haven’t changed.
They’re terrible snobs, ready and willing to look down their noses at whoever they don’t think is good enough.
“The only people staying in the house are Katherine and Ed, three of Katherine’s friends from college with their boyfriends, me, the best man, and two more of Ed’s friends. ”
“That’s a lot of people.”
“I know. And we still don’t have anywhere to stay. The best man is supposed to have come up with something. I gave him a deadline of lunchtime today, but I’ve heard absolutely nothing from him, despite me texting him at least nineteen times.”
Charlotte laughs. Even though I’m furious with Hunter for not returning any of my texts, I smile. I probably did go a little overboard on the text assault.
“What about glamping?” Charlotte suggests. “Do you think she’d go for it?”
The bachelorette party is so front and center in my mind that when I glance across the bar, I swear I see Hunter. I look back to Charlotte.
“I’m not sure Katherine would love it, but she’d go along with it,” I say. “But I don’t want Katherine to have to endure her bachelorette. She should get what she wants.”
“But if it’s impossible, it’s impossible,” Charlotte says, just as the guy I thought was Hunter turns in my direction and we lock eyes.
It is Hunter.
Hunter, who blew through my deadline of finding a beach house by today, then ignored each one of my nineteen requests for an update.
He was too busy planning his night out at the bar, by the looks of it.
“I can’t believe it,” I seethe.
“What?” Charlotte asks.
“It’s the drunk best man who’s supposed to be finding me a beach house.”
“Where?” she asks. “The hot one?”
“He’s not hot.” That’s a lie, but at this precise moment, he could look like Colin Firth had a baby with Matthew Macfadyen and I’d want to rip his face from his body.
I stand. Charlotte pulls at my hand.
“No, Lucy. Sit down. Don’t go over there.”
“Of course I’m going over there,” I say, fisting my hands and looking around for an appropriate weapon.
“I can’t just sit here and let him get away with .
. . with . . . not finding me a beach house.
” I sigh, trying to tamp down the anger that’s started to boil in my veins.
“‘There’s no one so capable as me.’” It’s an affliction.
“Are you quoting Persuasion? Be reasonable,” Charlotte says. “You said yourself finding a beach house was impossible.”
My heart is thumping in my chest, and I’m ready for war.
How dare he be out socializing when he hasn’t fulfilled his basic obligations as best man?
As far as I can tell, he hasn’t even put in the minimum effort to do his part.
“I have no notion of treating him with such respect. That is the way to spoil them.”
Charlotte groans and grabs my hand. She knows that if I’m bastardizing quotes from Northanger Abbey, it’s serious. I pull my hand from her grip and stomp over to where Hunter is happily chatting to his buddies.
“Sir, you are simply being disagreeable, socializing like this!” I blurt out as I approach the table.
It’s like the cork from the champagne has popped and I’ve bubbled over, but I have no idea why I’m talking like I’m in a Jane Austen adaptation, just like my mother has the habit of doing when she’s trying to impress someone.
Hunter turns to me, his expression thoroughly confused. All at once, the fight leaves my body. I realize his entire group is looking at me. Suddenly, I feel self-conscious. These men are older than Hunter, and it doesn’t look like they’re out to party. The atmosphere is more formal.
I’m an idiot. This is a business thing.
I want to skip back ten seconds and go back to the bit where Charlotte is tugging at my hand.
Then Hunter laughs. “This is Ed’s soon-to-be sister-in-law.
Very nice to see you here, Lucy.” He’s all formality—although he doesn’t launch into a Darcy impression—and professionalism.
He turns back to the group of five men. “We’re organizing the joint bachelorette/bachelor party together.
” He turns back to me, his eyes wide, urging me to comply.
“Perhaps I can call you tomorrow morning?”
I pull my mouth into the perfect grin and nod. “Sure, Hunter. Very nice to meet you all.” I find myself doing an inexplicable little bow before I back away from the table.
I head back to Charlotte, defeated and humiliated. Who the hell were those guys? And why am I so unhinged?
“I need a drink,” I say.
“I thought you might. I just ordered us both tequilas since my secondhand embarrassment is so strong I want to be unalive right now.”
“‘Angry people are not always wise,’” I say on a sigh. “Austen was right.” I clamp my hand over my mouth. I want to take back every syllable. “Charlotte, I’ve lost my goddamned mind.”
She nods like I just told her I have athlete’s foot. She’s all sympathy and understanding but doesn’t want to get too close.
“Am I becoming my mother?” I ask. I basically morphed into Elizabeth Bennet back there. Without the fine eyes. I think my mom must have passed it down in her DNA or something.
Charlotte gives a shrug that’s too close to “maybe” for my comfort.
“I’ve got to stop accosting people in public spaces. And when I say people, I mean Hunter. From now on, I vow to only scream at him in private. And,” I add at Charlotte’s cutting look, “rather than scream, I’m going to tone it down to a whisper-shout.”
“I’d say that’s real growth.” She tips her head to the side.
“From your starting point. But it’s probably not your final destination.
You could consider that he’s having as hard a time as you finding a place.
Maybe he dodged your texts because . . .
well, first off, there’s so many of them, and secondly, because maybe he doesn’t want to disappoint you. ”
I think back to Hunter, drunk at the engagement party. “I don’t think Hunter gives a rat’s ass about disappointing me. But that doesn’t mean I can scream at him in public.”
“For no other reason than it doesn’t seem to have any effect apart from . . .”
“My own humiliation?” I suggest.
Charlotte holds up one of the shots that’s just been placed in front of us. “If the shoe fits . . .”