On the Rocks(53)

“What happened?” I asked, as she continued to hug me so tightly I could barely breathe. “Did you win the Lotto or something? Because we made that pact in high school that if one of us won, we’d split the winnings, and as far as I’m concerned that agreement is still in effect.”

“Better!” she screamed.

“The suspense is killing me,” Bobby said.

“He did it. He told his wife it’s over. He’s leaving her!”

Bobby and I didn’t move, stunned into silence. If it was true, then everything I thought about Johnny was wrong. If it was true, then Grace hadn’t been wasting all of her time on someone who could never be with her. If it was true, I had to seriously start putting money on the long shots at the track. “He did it? He’s filing for divorce?” I asked.

“Yup. He told her this morning, and then he left the house. He’s crashing at a hotel right now. I invited him to come here for the weekend, but he needs to call lawyers and deal with everything. Do you believe this is actually happening? We can finally be together.” She ran her hands through her hair and grabbed her skull, like she couldn’t believe it herself.

“I don’t know what to say! I’m shocked. I mean, I’m really happy for you, but I’m shocked. I didn’t think he’d ever do it,” I admitted. I guess some people did get their happy endings.

“I know you didn’t, but I did. I knew in my soul this was meant to be. I know it’s complicated, and the road was . . . what’s the word I’m looking for?”

“Untraditional?” Bobby offered. I was impressed with his diplomacy.

“Yes, good one! Untraditional. But it’s over. I don’t have to live a lie anymore. I feel like I’m going to explode.”

“Grace, congratulations. You went through hell, and I worried about what you were doing and how this would end, and I’m really happy you’re finally going to have this all legitimized,” I said, relieved.

“It’s a very, very good day. And I’m beyond pumped about the party tonight.”

“I am too,” I admitted. And I was. I only hoped it wasn’t too good to be true.



A FEW HOURS LATER, when Grace and I agreed that we were both perfectly accessorized, we headed over to the beach party otherwise known as the clam jam. Wolf and Bobby bounded through the parking lot toward the sand, already a bit buzzed from the beers they’d drunk at the house while Grace and I were primping. We discussed the fact that I had to head back to the city the following week for Katie’s final dress fitting and checked out our reflections in each other’s sunglasses to make sure that our hair remained straight after the hour we had spent using flat irons. As we approached the beach and the crowd came into view, I almost keeled over with shock. It was packed with people, all of them drinking, laughing, and having fun. I had found the motherland.

My phone rang right as we were about to join the party. I checked the caller ID. It was Katie, and since her wedding was only a few weeks away, I knew I had to answer it. I stopped at the foot of the stairs. “I’ll meet up with you down there, go ahead.”

“Okay!” they yelled in unison as they sped off in front of me, kicking their shoes into the pile of sandals that had accumulated on the sand.

“What’s up?” I asked as I watched my friends disappear into the crowd.

“Hey, Abby! How’s it going?” a happy Katie chirped in my ear.

“Pretty good, but I’m at a party, so talk fast,” I said, jamming my finger in my ear so I could block out the noise from the party and the breeze.

“I need a favor. Can you pick up my wedding undies and bring them to my fitting next week? I’m swamped, and I won’t have time to get them.”

“I’m sorry, did you say wedding undies? I don’t know what those are.”

“You know, the underwear with BRIDE written across the butt in rhinestones for my wedding day. I have them on hold at Intimacy in the Back Bay. Can you grab them for me?”

“Sure,” I said, hoping the sudden sadness I felt didn’t resonate in my voice. “I’m coming home on Wednesday, so I’ll pick them up on the way.”

“Great! I don’t mean to be a pain, but please, please, don’t forget. I will just die if I don’t have them.”

“Why? It’s just underwear. It’s not your dress.” I didn’t mean to sound snippy. I just could not believe that I was now reduced to picking up her underwear. How the mighty had fallen. And hard.

“You’ll understand someday, Abby,” she said, the words stinging like I had been attacked by a swarm of jellyfish. I was aware of how important the little things were to brides. What I didn’t understand was why she thought this was a normal thing to ask me to do from across state lines.

“I’ll bring your underwear, Katie. I’ll see you next week.” I hung up on her and felt my mood begin to turn. I had been really looking forward to this party, and now Katie’s reminder that the wedding was fast approaching and that I wasn’t the bride, only the maid of honor who had to fetch underwear, was depressing.

I walked past the crowd of people gathered around various kegs and grills and wandered aimlessly off down the beach, my little sister’s request still ringing in my ears. I wasn’t sure why I was having such a strong reaction to her phone call, but I had had enough mood swings over the past year to know that sometimes they came when you least expected them and that when they did, it was better to work through them alone.