Chapter 39
BILLIE
By three p.m., the bridal shop was empty of customers the only sound coming from the light hum of the steamer in the alteration’s alcove.
I pretended to review the day’s invoices in my office, but my eyes kept darting up to the oversized clock above my door, where the second hand made its little jerky revolution.
If I were still living with Adam, I would be pulling up to the elementary school now, wedging my car between a silver Toyota Sienna and the deeply dented Odyssey that always seemed to materialize first in the pick-up lane.
Andi would already be watching for me, her backpack on, standing on the footprints painted on the sidewalk, while Joey would be weaving her way through the line, having negotiated trades of her unopened string cheese for someone’s Cheez-Its or Goldfish.
Instead, I was in my office, staring at my computer, the scent of lavender essential oils and the faintly metallic tang of steam.
I wondered if they’d had a good day. If the twins remembered to hand in the permission slips for the conservatory field trip.
If Andi got moved to the advanced reading group.
If Joey were still insisting on eating only jelly and pickle sandwiches for lunch, which she’d started after finding out her dad used to eat them.
I wondered if Mrs. McDonald was actually letting Andi use the restroom when she needed to go.
Also, I wondered why Adam hadn’t called.
Every day this week, I’d pulled out my phone dozens of times to reach out to him.
I’d type out a text, then delete it, then scroll to his contact to call, then put my phone down.
I’d check the cloud-based school portal and my email just to see if there was any communication from him.
But there wasn’t. Not a word. Not a single photo of the girls, not even an emoji.
It was like I was out of sight, out of mind for him.
The sound of the door chime at the front barely registered, I was so deep in my own spiral it could have been a tornado siren and I wouldn’t have moved. Birdie appeared in the doorway, balancing a mug that said “Brides are my Tribe” in one hand and swatch samples in the other.
“Okay, I’ve tried to stay out of it, but you haven’t left your office for lunch in five days.” She sat across from me with her usual grace. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I lied, but Birdie’s gaze was the kind that could see through drywall. She set the swatches down and waited, her foot tapping an erratic Morse code against the tiles.
“I’m fine,” I doubled down and then, because the room was too quiet, added, “I promise.”
She reached over and nudged my phone with her knuckle, the way you’d poke a shell to check if there was a hermit crab inside. “Is it Adam? The girls?”
I wanted to tell her no, that I was a fortress, impervious and had zero emotional attachment to them. But I wasn’t. I was a sandcastle, and every minute felt like a new wave.
“Is it because his girlfriend is back in town?”
“His girlfriend?” I was his wife, technically, I should know if he had a girlfriend.
“Genesis Milan, she is in San Francisco. I figured that’s why you moved back to your place.”
I shook my head. “No, I told you. I moved back because Adam’s better and there’s been no more incidents.” I paused, still trying to process the information I’d just been given. “Wait, how do you know Genesis is here?” Because I certainly wasn’t aware.
“It’s been online and all over her social media.”
She pulled her phone out and scrolled through something with the flicky, hyper-efficient movements of a professional blogger who could probably launch a shuttle mission while steaming a ball gown. She turned her phone around and presented the screen to me, thumb poised like a magician’s reveal.
It was Genesis Milan’s Instagram page.
The top post was a filtered selfie of Genesis on a cable car, latte in hand, her perfectly tousled hair catching the late-morning light.
The caption: “San Francisco = DESTINY. #GIJOE” Then she turned it back around tapped on the screen and when she flipped it back there were paparazzi photos of Genesis kissing Adam at his front door.
A sour taste rose in my throat and I wanted to throw up.
I stared at it for a long time, not moving.
I didn’t even know she was in town. The fact that Adam hadn’t called suddenly felt less like an oversight and more like a message written in flaming skywriting.
I imagined Genesis walking the waterfront with the twins, teaching them about macrobiotic snack options and Italian fashion.
I pictured her doing the girls’ hair at night, tucking them into bed, and putting on their Band-Aids when they scraped their elbows and knees.
We sat in silence as my heart knocked against my ribs so hard, I wondered if it was going to leave a bruise.
I tried to focus on the twinkle of light through the showroom window, or the faint scent of fabric softener lingering in the air from the morning’s fresh delivery, but my mind kept circling the same drain: Genesis was here.
Adam was with her. The girls—my girls—were with her, too.
I’d left the ring, Adam’s mom’s ring, my ring, in the guest room. It didn’t feel right bringing it home with me. I wondered if he’d give it to her. If she’d wear it when she became Mrs. Knight.
I didn’t even realize I’d spaced out until the familiar sound of the front door chime startled me. I expected a delivery, or maybe a walk-in bride seizing her chance in the last few hours of business, but instead I heard the unmistakable cadence of a rolling suitcase careening over tile.
Bailey, tan lines and wedding band glistening on her left hand, swept into the office with an air of someone who’d just spent two weeks drinking breakfast mimosas and swimming in the Mediterranean.
Her hair looked like it had decided to take a vacation of its own—naturally beachy now, not a hint of salon-gloss.
She looked happy, blissfully so, living up to our last name.
She greeted Birdie first with a bear hug then flung her arms around me with the same force she used to shut down bridezilla meltdowns.
“I missed you guys!” She squeezed her arms around my neck, and I could feel the smile pressed into my shoulder.
I hugged her back with as much enthusiasm as I could muster with the current mental state I was in.
“You look so—so—” She leaned back, searching my face. “Like someone who’s not happy to see me?”
“I’m always happy to see you, it’s the rest of the world that’s a letdown.” I pasted a smile on my face and hoped it read as the fine line I liked to walk between happy and sarcastic.
Birdie, sat opposite me sipping her coffee, shot a withering glance over the rim of her mug. “She’s been like this for a week,” she stage-whispered to Bailey. “Refusing to go out for lunch, eating nothing but protein bars and the sad veggie sushi from the corner store.”
Bailey’s face filled with concern. “Did something happen? Another note? Another break-in? I knew I shouldn’t have left.”
“No. Nothing. No note. No break-in,” I assured her.
“She moved back to her apartment,” Birdie commented.
Bailey’s eyes ping-ponged between Birdie and me, finally landing on me. “You did?!”
I nodded.
“Why?”
“Adam’s back is better and like I said, no note, no break-in, the threat is clearly over.”
“You don’t know that!” Bailey exclaimed.
“I can’t live there forever. I can’t put my life on hold because of this. Whatever it was, whoever it was has moved on and I need to too.”
“Adam’s girlfriend is also in town,” Birdie felt the need to share.
Bailey’s head spun back to our baby sister. “Genesis Milan?”
“Yep,” Birdie confirmed.
“She’s in San Francisco?” Bailey whispered, as if it was a secret.
Birdie nodded.
“Is that why she moved out?” Bailey jumped to the same conclusion Birdie had.
“She is in the room, so you can ask her directly,” I said, loudly. Of course, it was a practice in futility since both of my sisters ignored me.
Birdie shook her head slowly. “No, she didn’t even know she was in town until I told her just now.”
Bailey turned her attention back to me. “Are you okay with Adam’s girlfriend, or ex, or whatever she is being back in the picture?”
I wanted to give some snarky reply but she asked it softly, her eyes already brimming with the sisterly concern that always seemed to make my chest tighten.
I opened my mouth, but only a tiny, involuntary noise came out, like the sound you’d make stepping onto a cold bathroom tile at two a.m.
In truth, I was in a state of psychological vertigo, uncertain which direction hurt more, the ache of missing them, or the acid glow of knowing Adam was living so easily without me.
I couldn’t tell if I was relieved that my worst-case-scenario had come true, the other shoe had dropped, the Band-Aid had been ripped off or if I was devastated that I’d been so easily replaced.
The reality settled over me with a strange, layered effect: it was comforting to know the girls and Adam were fine without me, but also excruciating, like the world was moving on without any need to consult me.
Still, a part of me couldn’t help what wonder what Adam was thinking.
If he was relieved I’d left, or if he missed me at all.
Probably not. He was always better at moving on and letting things go than I was.
“I’m fine,” I finally said, but it landed like a lead balloon. “Really, I’m just exhausted and catching up on work. How was the honeymoon? Do you have pictures?”
“We can talk about the honeymoon later, this is more important.”
“There is no this,” I stated with finality.
Birdie’s phone dinged and she glanced down at it. Her face dropped, which could only mean one thing. Dylan Douchebag Hart.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
“Yeah, it’s fine.”
Bailey and I shot each other a silent look to see who was going to field this one. She gave me the nod that she’d handle it and I gave her the floor.
“Are you and Dylan going to check out venues when he’s in town this weekend?” Bailey turned the inquiry spotlight onto our baby sister.
This weekend? Why was Dylan going to be in town this weekend? Was I missing something?
“That was the plan if he ends up coming,” Birdie replied.
Ends up coming?
“It’s The Vow issue release party. Of course he’s going to come,” Bailey insisted.
Fuck me. I totally forgot that was this weekend. Since we weren’t the ones throwing it, I didn’t have anything to do with arranging it. All I’d done was respond to the e-vite over a month ago. With everything else going on, I had totally forgotten about it.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I was going to have to go to a party where there were photos of me. Not just me, me and Adam in bridal outfits and poses.
Oh shit. He was going to be there. And now he was probably bringing his super model girlfriend as his plus-one. Was that why she was in town?
Panic began to fill me from my feet all the way up to my head. There was no way I wanted to face Adam, not right now. Not when the wound of leaving was so fresh and he was clearly just going on living his life.
I wasn’t going to go. I would just say I was sick. Or dead. No, not dead. It wasn’t worth faking death. But sick, I could be sick.
No. I couldn’t do that to Birdie for the same reason I had to put all those dresses on in the first place. This was too big of a deal for her.
Not only was this her big debut in The Vow, she’d also learned that she was up for Designer of the Year, which would be a huge deal to her career. I could not bail on her.
She already had one person in her life who was supposed to love her who was flaking on her, she didn’t need two. We didn’t have parents, our grandparents were gone. My sisters and I were all we had. This wasn’t about me, I had to show up for her.
I stood so fast my chair rolled back and hit the wall. Bailey and Birdie jumped at the noise. I grabbed my purse and rounded the desk. “I’ll be out for the rest of the day.”
“Are you okay?” Birdie twisted in her chair.
“Where are you going?” Bailey spoke at the same time.
“Shopping.” If I was going, I definitely needed a new dress.