Chapter Twenty-Seven Lucy
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Lucy
The rehearsal dinner is being held at Mom’s favorite restaurant in Boston.
Tonight, my hair and clothes are back to “normal.” The fact that Mom came into my bedroom first thing this morning to check on what I was wearing and “casually” inquired about how I’d be styling my hair didn’t make me feel better about my choices for the club last night.
The fact that Hunter couldn’t keep his hands off me definitely did.
“So Lucy, when are you coming back to Boston?” Mom’s oldest friend, Yvonne asks. We’ve all gathered in the small bar at the restaurant before taking our seats. Hunter’s across the room with Ed’s parents, and I’ve barely seen him.
“You mean after the wedding?” I ask, confused.
She laughs so loud I swear the entire restaurant turns around to stare at us. “No, silly. I mean for good. You need to find your husband and bring him home to Massachusetts with you. Like your sister.”
“Katherine never left Massachusetts.”
“Exactly. You’ll be hitting thirty before you know it. New York isn’t made for people past thirty.”
It suddenly strikes me that everyone is expecting me to move back home. It’s not just Mom. Everyone’s just assuming that’s what will happen. The thought hits me in the stomach like a fist. I can’t think of anything worse than leaving New York. It’s my sanctuary. “I like New York.”
“Oh, I love to go for the shows. You can’t beat Broadway for the musicals. But to live?” She recoils from her own words. “And the traffic. Where’s the green space?”
“We have Central Park.”
She laughs like I’m Jerry Seinfeld at his peak. “I’m serious. You don’t want to bring up kids without space for them to play.”
“Well, I have no plans for children at the moment.”
“Yes, dear, but you will one day, and you’ll want them to be close to their grandparents, won’t you? You’ll be able to have weekends on the Cape. You just need the man to make that happen.”
Is that what everyone’s been waiting for? Me to see sense and move back to Boston?
My dad makes the announcement that our table is ready and we should find our seats.
I head to the opposite end from my parents, but everyone finds a place before I do.
There are about twenty of us, and eventually, I find a seat in the middle.
The chair next to me is free, and I look around for Hunter.
I find him heading toward me, but just as I nod at the empty seat next to me, Uncle Ralph plonks himself down.
It’s so frustrating, having Hunter so close but not having any time, just the two of us. He takes the seat opposite me, and we trade what feels like a secret smile.
Everyone finds their places, Ed’s parents taking up the two chairs at one end of the table and my parents taking up the two chairs at the other.
Maybe it’s me, but shouldn’t Ed and Katherine be at the end of the table?
Or maybe it’s because the parents are hosting this dinner?
It feels like the spotlight should really be on the happy couple.
My dad stands and clinks his fork against his water glass.
“Just a few words before we break bread with each other. It’s been a delight to have Ed become a part of the family over the last few years.
Katherine is such a sweet and precious daughter, I never thought there’d be a man worthy of her, but she found him in Ed.
Congratulations to Mr. and Mrs. Franklin on raising the perfect son for our perfect daughter. ”
I try not to roll my eyes at my father’s description of his perfect daughter. Katherine’s the perfect one. I’m the imperfect one. That’s how you distinguish the two of us.
Someone nudges my foot under the table. My head snaps up to find Hunter grinning at me.
“Anything you want to say, darling?” Dad says to Mom.
My mom shakes her head but stands just the same. “Just to say that Katherine, we’re so happy for you. You’ve found your Mr. Bingley, darling. And rightly so. You’re such a kind, caring, devoted daughter, and I know you’ll be a wonderful wife.”
Everyone claps. I wonder if it’s just me who thinks that toast was .
. . off, somehow. It was all about Katherine and how she performs as a daughter and a wife.
Not who she is in her heart. Katherine is kind and caring.
But she’s not just a daughter. Maybe I’m being oversensitive.
Being under the same roof as my mother for the last few days is slowly driving me crazy.
Thankfully, Ed’s parents pass on the speeches, and the appetizers are served. Hunter is seated next to Uncle Ralph’s wife, my Aunt Maude. It’s literally my idea of hell. Ralph is almost completely deaf, and his wife more than makes up for his silence.
“Your Ed’s friend, I hear,” Maude says.
I chase a shrimp around my plate and try to keep my head down in case anyone pulls me into conversation about moving back to Boston again. But obviously I’m listening in to Hunter’s conversation with Maude.
“That’s right. We’ve known each other a long time. You’re Mrs. Jones’s sister?”
“Yes. Two peas in a pod. Not like Katherine and poor Lucy.”
I take a breath and stab a shrimp with my fork.
Hunter just nods and takes a sip of his wine.
“Me and my sister did everything together,” Maude says. “We even dated brothers one time. And we had the same interests. The same outlook on life. No two sisters have ever been closer.”
“But Katherine and Lucy are close,” Hunter says.
Maude pauses. “Yes, I suppose so. Like cousins more than sisters. They’re so dissimilar. Katherine is such a homebody—a nurturer.”
Hunter’s gaze slides to mine, and I pretend I haven’t heard. Except I have heard, and my cheeks flush bright red. I chew my shrimp like it’s made of molasses.
“Is that good?” I ask Uncle Ralph, who seems to have the vegetarian option. I’m trying to distract myself from Aunt Maude’s withering verdict on my character.
“Food, yes, of course it’s food. You think they’d be serving up bricks?” he barks.
I sigh and turn to my left. It’s a member of Ed’s family who seems engrossed in conversation with whomever’s on his left. I’m left in the middle to listen as Aunt Maude tells the guy I’m sleeping with that I’m not nurturing.
“Lucy’s never been . . . Well, she’s obviously not as clever as Katherine,” Maude says as I continue to shrivel in my chair.
“But she’s a paralegal, isn’t she?” Hunter asks in the gentlest way.
“Yes, but honestly, I have no idea how. I think those people do a lot of shredding. You know those huge shredding bins? I bet she does a lot of shredding. She was never any good at school.”
“Aunt Maude,” I say. “You do know that I can hear you, don’t you?”
“What?” she asks oblivious. “I’m just saying you were never any good at school.”
“I got a 1430 on my SATs.”
“Did you?” she asks, looking surprised. “But what did Katherine get?”
I sigh. “1480.”
“There you go. Katherine was more academic. But it was bound to be the case. She was more organized that you. You remember that time when you forgot to let the cat out and she ruined your mother’s curtains?”
“I was thirteen.”
“The cat tore those curtains to shreds.” My aunt leans forward and tries to get my mom’s attention at the head of the table. “Do you remember when Lucy forgot to let the cat out?”
Mom shrieks. “Oh, God. Those curtains were so expensive, and they were just ruined.” She shakes her head. “But I shouldn’t have relied on Lucy. It was my own fault.”
“I’m keeping a list,” my dad says. “Your husband will get a bill when you finally walk down the aisle. All the things you ruined. All the messes we had to clear up.” He chuckles, and my mom joins him.
I’m the joke of the family.
“I always said you’d be trouble, Lucy. I knew it when I was giving birth to you.”
I groan. I don’t want to hear about how I cried coming out of the womb. Not again. Can I leave the table without people thinking I’m making a scene? Sometimes I just tire of being the joke of the family, the runt of the litter, the kid who just can’t get it together.
“That’s not how I see Lucy at all,” Hunter interrupts.
“Maybe it’s because I didn’t know her as a child.
But as a woman, she’s not the person you describe.
Not at all.” My heart lifts in my chest at the way he’s going to bat for me.
Katherine sticks up for me, but Hunter doesn’t have skin in this game.
He doesn’t have to be in my corner like this.
“She’s incredibly well respected at her job.
She’s kind and self-sacrificing. Beautiful.
Positive. She wants everyone around her to be happy. I think she’s . . . wonderful.”
Hunter turns to me and smiles. His grin is all warmth and sunshine, and I’m so grateful that he’s here, staring at me, sticking up for me, on my side.
“Well, of course she’s much better now,” Mom says. “But she and Katherine are still like chalk and cheese. Did you even see what she went out wearing on Wednesday night?”
Hunter’s eyes flare and he nods. He’s answering Mom, but he’s staring at me just like he did on Wednesday, his eyes filled with fire and lust.
“Katherine looks lovely,” I say, breaking Hunter’s gaze. “And I can’t wait to see her as a bride.”
“Yes,” my dad says. “She’ll be the perfect bride.”
The conversation turns to the wedding. I see my opportunity to leave the table for a few minutes and gather myself.
I knew this wedding week was going to be full of comparisons between Katherine and me—comparisons in which I inevitably end up on the losing end.
I’d mentally prepared myself. But it’s still hard hearing it sometimes.
I head out to the front of the restaurant, so I can watch the water and take a few deep breaths. The next thing I know, Hunter is standing next to me, his hands pushed into the pockets of his linen suit.
“Meeting your family is . . . something,” he says as we both lean against the small brick wall in front of the restaurant.
“You’re starting to see how much better Katherine is in every way?”
“Absolutely not. But I’m starting to understand why you’re so hard on yourself. How could you not be when your parents are even harder on you? Is every family function like this?”
“You mean the jokes about what a mess I am? The unflattering comparisons between me and my sister? The put-downs? The mean comments.” I nod. “Pretty much, yeah.”
“No wonder you moved to New York.” He leans over and presses a kiss to my head. I lean against him.
“Yeah. But now that Katherine’s getting married, I’m going to be expected to move back. My mom’s best friend literally just asked me when I’m coming home for good.”
“Like you’re playing at having a life in New York? Just because that’s what they expect doesn’t mean that’s what you should do.”
“I know. But it’s just another thing I have to fight against. The comparisons to Katherine. The stories about how I ruined things and was a mess when I was a kid. And now it’s them all telling me it’s time to move back to Boston.”
“You want to move back?” he asks.
“Are you kidding me? New York is more a part of me than Boston ever was. And why in the hell do they want me back if I’m such a walking disaster?”
“I think it’s just an easy narrative they’ve fallen into.”
“I think they still believe it. Even though I planned the perfect bachelorette weekend. None of it matters. They only see the bad stuff.”
Hunter slips his arm around my waist. “Did you tell them about how your boss wants you to go to law school?”
“As if. They’d probably ask whether I misunderstood, or they’d think I was lying to impress them.
It’s not like I can actually do it anyway.
I can’t study and work and become a lawyer.
” I fold my arms in front of myself and lift my head from Hunter’s shoulder.
“I love my sister, but I can’t wait for this wedding to be over. ”
“Then the pressure will be off you.”
“Mom and Dad will go back to whatever it was they were doing, and I can go back to New York. Ed will go back to focusing on work, and—”
“And then Katherine will get pregnant, and Ed will be distracted by Katherine’s pregnancy and eventually a baby, and then it will be a second baby and croup and chicken pox and school districts and every possible thing.”
I try to take in what Hunter’s saying. He’s worried about Ed’s ongoing distraction. It’s not just the wedding he’s frustrated about, but the whole idea of what married life will mean for his business.
“Portis is doing well, though, isn’t it?”
Hunter nods. “Yeah. For sure. But the Boston office is really Ed’s domain.”
“Your financials are separate?”
“No, but I don’t know what goes on there on a day-to-day basis.”
“You mean you don’t know the clients in Boston?”
“The big ones I do. Most of them actually. But as we grow, I’m not going to be able to keep track in the same way I do now. I’m not going to be able to cover everything.”
“Does Ed need to be covered?” I ask.
“He does if he’s going to take his eye off the ball.”
“Doesn’t sound like Ed.”
“No. But people change. Isn’t that what you wish your family could see? You’ve changed for the better. But Ed . . . He missed a client meeting.”
His voice isn’t resentful—it’s full of worry. But why? Ed is the most dependable man on the planet. Then I realize that his concern is buried deep. It’s decades old. I turn to him. “Ed’s not your father.”
He frowns and takes a step back almost as if I’ve struck him. “I never said he was. But I’m not going to make the mistake of blindly trusting someone again.”
I shiver at his words, and my insides drop. Believing in your father and finding out he was a liar must be the worst kind of betrayal. At least my parents have been consistent in their disappointment in me. “You can trust Ed,” I say. “And me.”
He sighs. “We’ll see.”
For the first time since Martha’s Vineyard, I feel a distance opening up between Hunter and me rather than the horizon closing in.
“We should go back in,” I say.
“Yeah.” He pushes off the wall to stand. “We don’t want you to be the sister that disappears during the rehearsal dinner.”
“That will be the story at Thanksgiving, no doubt,” I say on a sigh.
Hunter scoops up my hand and presses a kiss to my knuckles, the chilliness between us dissipating like early morning fog. “I’m here for you, Lucy.”
“And you can trust me,” I say. Except I’m not sure he hears me, because he’s already heading back into the restaurant and pulling me behind him. Even if he had been listening, I’m not sure whether he’d believe me. I’m not sure Hunter will ever believe he can trust anyone ever again.