Chapter 9
EILEEN
Jason is... interesting.
On the one hand, his physique and beer choice scream trust fund frat boy.
On the other hand, he spent an hour last night at one of my favorite bars talking about the best way to arrange centerpieces with the kind of sincerity and knowledge most dudes wouldn’t give to anything, let alone a cousin’s wedding.
His eyes lit up when, upon leaving, he asked what my coffee order is and I said, “preferably espresso, but anything as long as it’s strong enough to wake up the dead.”
I showed up to brunch this morning not expecting a flight of espressos to sample.
“Are you serious? Is this some kind of challenge?” I ask him, trying to suppress a grin.
He smirks. “It’s only a challenge if you make it one.”
We’re buzzed by the time Charlie and Marek arrive. Charlie wrinkles her nose at the sight of coffee. I catch Jason’s gaze, rolling my eyes subtly. He nearly chokes on his orange juice.
It’s fascinating watching him switch from giant goof to serious businessman once Charlie and Marek get settled. As he goes over the job he’s helping Marek get, I study his profile.
Masculine nose, sensual mouth, strong, chiseled jaw with a pair of high cheekbones framing those warm brown eyes that keep staring at me when he thinks nobody is watching.
“I have a job,” Charlie snaps when he turns his attention to her.
Of course, she just got hired at Neiman Marcus three weeks ago. How long until she quits?
“You said it yourself. Once the baby arrives you can’t do retail,” I remind her. “Consider your options, Charlie.”
“Easy for you to say. If you were pregnant, you’d be fine,” she says, adding a pout. “You have a job that will give you maternity leave and benefits.”
Sure, let’s talk about how my low-income job is suddenly much better than any other job in the whole fucking world. Poor little Charlie, she has it rough.
“What happened to your benefits?” I ask instead.
“They’ll be gone once I quit,” she says.
Make up your mind, Charlie. Do you have a job or not?
I take a deep breath and then say, “Then don’t quit. Or get hired by someplace that has more competitive benefits. Doesn’t Marek have insurance?”
Jason gives me a look that feels like “we’re screwed, aren’t we?”
Okay, let’s handle this another way.
I grab a pen and my journal out of my purse. “Let’s start with what we absolutely have to get done today. Housing, jobs, and preliminary wedding details. Alright?”
“Please, you have to help me with the last one,” Charlie whines. “Did I tell you Mom wants me to wear her dress?”
Well, I guess we’re shifting priorities. Why not? It’s not like having a roof over your head and a way to support your kid matters.
“What’s their budget for the wedding?” I ask.
I’ve been dodging Mom’s calls for the past couple of days. There’s not a snowball’s chance in hell I’ll call her to ask that. There’s too high a risk of hearing everything about yesterday’s reunion-slash-meeting.
“They said it’s small,” she says with a soft voice.
Typical Charlie, she’s about to give me a sob story to convince me that I have to do something to make her dreams come true.
“You know what that means, right?” She sighs. “Ceremony in the backyard, honeymoon in Idaho Springs, and if I’m lucky, she’ll make some corned beef casserole surprise and seven-layer-bean-cheese dip.”
I glare at her. Sometimes she makes us sound like a cheap version of some crazy sitcom. Yes, Mom tends to be frugal. But she does it mostly with family who doesn’t care.
If there’s a wedding where she has to show everyone that she’s Lorena McBean, then it’ll be a high-end event.
Which we can’t afford!
Either way, we’re screwed.
“Look, I canceled the trip and got a full refund,” I lie. “Why don’t we plan the wedding with it?”
“That was less than ten thousand dollars, Eileen. The dress I want costs twenty thousand.”
“We’ll find a cheaper dress, a better one,” I suggest, sounding convincing.
I make a mental note to check online for used dresses or maybe an outlet. Do they even exist?
“Honey,” I say, reaching for her hand to squeeze it. “As much as I’d love for you to have a wedding as close as possible to what Meghan Markle had, we can’t. Our resources are limited.”
“I can help with some of the expenses,” Jason offers.
Seriously, you have no idea what you’re getting into, buddy, I think. But I only glare at him.
“Within reason,” he corrects.
My sister’s smile brightens, and she pulls out her phone. “Make sure you choose everything based on what’s on our wedding Pinterest board, Eileen.”
“What?” I say. I expected to have to plan the wedding but— “Why the Pinterest board?”
“You’ve said it yourself a million times,” she explains. “I’m terrible at sticking to a budget. If you’re going to limit me, you’ll have to put in the work. Besides, everything I like is on there. It’s not like you need me micromanaging you when my dream wedding is all there.”
Charlie tucks a strand of hair behind her ear casually. As if she didn’t just tell me to use “our” –really my—dream wedding plans to do all the dirty work for her.
“When’s the wedding, anyway?” I ask numbly.
She looks at the calendar on her phone and says, “May twenty-seventh.”
“What?” I say in disbelief. “You can’t be serious. That’s my—”
“Eileen, could you please stop thinking about yourself,” Charlie shouts so loud everyone in the restaurant stops talking. A few women glare at me. “Look at me. I’m in the middle of a crisis. You can reschedule whatever you had penciled in for some other time.”
Cool, let me grab my time machine, go back twenty-seven years and make sure that Mom waits a day or two to have me.
While I’m at it, I’ll make sure to force my university to change graduation dates. Because Charlie always comes first. What she wants, she gets. Everything else is just a fucking afterthought.
I clear my throat. I ignore Jason’s confused gaze, instead fixating on the short stack of pancakes in front of me.
“Sure, Charlie,” I say quietly. “Whatever you want.”