Chapter 2
Chapter Two
The restaurant Makayla chose was the kind of place intended for women whose primary occupation was ‘ladies who lunch'.’ The tables were small and widely spaced, the lighting forgiving, and the menu offered six varieties of mineral water before mentioning anything a person could eat.
Abby found Makayla already seated in the back, wearing oversized sunglasses and a camel-colored coat Abby had never seen before.
“You look like you’re hiding from photographers,” Abby said as she reached the table, bending to kiss Makayla’s cheek.
She settled into the chair opposite her and studied the dark lenses, which concealed nearly half her friend’s face.
“If you’ve become famous since yesterday, I’m going to be annoyed that I heard about it from no one. ”
“I look like I cried in an Uber and then tried to repair the damage with a concealer I bought because a twenty-two-year-old on TikTok said it was life-changing.” Makayla removed the sunglasses and folded them beside her phone, exposing faint swelling beneath carefully applied makeup.
“My life remains aggressively unchanged.”
Abby resisted the urge to tell her she still looked beautiful, because compliments went into a deep, dark black hole of insecurity, and only caused Makayla more anxiety.
Her beauty had always seemed both natural and vigilantly maintained, the result of features she had been born with and an attention to detail sharpened by years of never wanting anyone to guess how much work she spent looking effortless.
“This coat is new,” Abby observed as she accepted a menu from the waiter. The wool looked soft enough to sleep beneath, and its simple, precise cut suggested an extravagance that Makayla did not usually allow herself. “Did you finally replace the one with the broken lining?”
Makayla’s hand moved to the lapel before dropping into her lap. “I found it on consignment. It was still wildly irresponsible from a financial standpoint, but apparently that’s our theme for the afternoon.”
“You’ve been wearing that other coat since we were twenty-four.
” Abby opened the menu and tried not to react to the price of the salads, although Hudson had chosen restaurants where the wine cost more than everything listed on this page.
“Replacing something after six years doesn’t qualify as a moral failure. ”
“It does when Evan and I are supposed to be saving.” Makayla looked toward the window, where pedestrians passed in coats considerably less elegant than hers.
“There’s always something we’re supposed to be saving for.
The wedding, a house, another six months of payroll if his next funding round falls apart. ”
The waiter returned, and Makayla ordered a glass of white wine without consulting the menu. Abby asked for sparkling water, partly because she still had work waiting that afternoon and partly because the smell of Makayla’s wine seemed unexpectedly sour when it arrived.
“You could set a date without having everything else settled,” Abby said after they ordered.
She reached across the table and turned Makayla’s phone facedown when the screen lit with an email notification.
“And a wedding doesn’t have to be expensive just because you have excellent taste. Simple can be stunning.”
Makayla smiled, though her fingers remained around the stem of her glass. “Easy for you to say, since your wedding has no official ‘budget’.”
“Kayla,” Abby said with weary affection, and leaned back as the tightness around Makayla’s mouth eased. “That budget is because it’s as much a business event for the Covingtons as it is my wedding. I’d honestly prefer something simpler.”
Makayla lifted the wine but did not drink, watching Abby over the rim. “Would you really have a small wedding if Hudson wanted one?”
The question caught Abby by surprise. Makayla had helped her compare venues, argued with the stationer over paper weight, and built a private spreadsheet ranking photographers by talent and likelihood of becoming irritating during the reception.
She knew the wedding had grown because the Covingtons considered marriage a family event with social consequences, not because Abby had once dreamed of feeding four hundred people miniature crab cakes.
“I’d marry Hudson at city hall,” Abby said, and the answer came easily because she had given it before. “His mother would arrive in mourning clothes and make sure every newspaper printed that we’d eloped during some kind of mental breakdown, but I’d do it.”
Makayla’s gaze lowered to the table. “It must be nice to know the wedding is the least important part.”
Abby heard the wistfulness and mistook it for fear. She reached across the table, resting her fingers over Makayla’s hand until the tension there softened.
“Evan wants to marry you,” she said. “He may have convinced himself he needs to hand you a finished life first, but that’s because he loves you, not because he’s uncertain.”
“You always make him sound better.” Makayla gave Abby’s fingers a small squeeze before withdrawing her hand to make room for their plates. “Sometimes I think you understand him more than I do.”
The suggestion was so absurd that Abby laughed before she noticed Makayla had not.
Evan was handsome in the absentminded way of a man who owned good clothes because someone else had once told him which ones to buy, but Abby had never thought of him as anything except Hudson’s most academic friend and, later, the man Makayla dated.
“Thank God Evan had the good sense to fall for you though. Evan and I would last three days,” Abby laughed as she unfolded her napkin.
“On the fourth, he’d discover I’d reorganized whatever terrifying system he uses for his coffee, and my body would never be found.
But that’s why Hudson and I work. He appreciates it when I manage his life. ”
Makayla’s smile shifted, losing some of its warmth. “Hudson does appreciate being taken care of.”
The remark was true enough that Abby did not immediately recognize the criticism inside it.
Hudson had grown up in a house where clean shirts appeared in his closet and dinner arrived beneath silver covers, but he could be thoughtful in ways Makayla rarely witnessed.
He remembered how Abby liked hotel rooms too cold at night and warmed her side of the bed before she climbed in, and he never passed the bakery near his office without bringing home the almond cookies she loved.
“He takes care of me too,” Abby said, hearing the defensiveness in her voice and wishing she had hidden it better. “This morning he was the one who told me to cancel the florist and come see you.”
Makayla’s knife stopped against the plate with a faint scrape. “You told him we argued?”
“You called while he was there.” Abby watched color rise beneath Makayla’s makeup and assumed it was embarrassment. “He didn’t hear much, and I didn’t give him details.”
“Good.” Makayla reached for her wine and took a longer drink than before. “Hudson already thinks I’m a disaster. I don’t need him knowing I spent the morning crying because my fiancé forgot an anniversary I invented.”
“He doesn’t think you’re a disaster.” The lie formed almost automatically, protective of both of them.
Abby could not repeat the things Hudson said without hurting Makayla, and she could not admit how often she allowed him to say them without challenging him enough.
“He thinks you and Evan are under pressure.”
Makayla looked at her for a long moment, as though trying to decide whether Abby believed herself. Then she set down the glass and smiled with enough brightness to close the subject.
“Tell me about the napkins,” she said, reaching into her bag for her phone. “If I’m going to ruin my face over a man who can’t remember dates, I at least deserve to judge your fabric choices.”
Abby showed her photographs of the ivory and cream samples, and Makayla chose ivory without hesitation.
She moved on to flowers, music, and the final alterations to Abby’s dress, asking the right questions and remembering details Abby had forgotten telling her.
By the time their plates had been cleared, the morning’s tears had become a story they could mock, another instance of Evan failing to notice the calendar while trying to build the future Makayla claimed to want.
“You should both come over Friday,” Abby said as Makayla divided the remaining wine between their glasses. “Hudson has been complaining that he never sees Evan anymore, and we haven’t had all four of us together in months.”
Makayla’s hand tightened around the bottle before she put it down. The movement was slight enough that Abby noticed only because Makayla was usually graceful even when drunk.
“Evan will probably be working,” Makayla said, smoothing her thumb over a drop of condensation on the glass. “He’s preparing for another investor meeting.”
“Then we’ll order late and wait for him.” Abby picked up her phone and opened the group chat that had gone mostly silent over the past year. “Hudson can survive eating after eight, regardless of what his mother taught him.”
Makayla opened her mouth as if to object, but Abby had already sent the invitation. Hudson responded first with a thumbs-up, followed less than a minute later by Evan’s apology that he would try but could not promise anything.
“There,” Abby said, turning the screen so Makayla could see. “He’s trying.”
Makayla stared at Evan’s message before glancing at Hudson’s reply above it. Her expression changed too quickly for Abby to identify what had passed through it, and then she lifted her glass with a smile that looked almost like relief.
“To trying,” Makayla said, touching the rim of her glass to Abby’s. “Apparently that’s what all of us are doing.”