Big Summer(47)

“I’m going to go check on Drue,” I said. “If I don’t see you again tonight, I hope I’ll see you tomorrow at the wedding.”

He smiled again. For a minute, I thought he’d kiss me. Instead, he squeezed my bare forearm, pressing his fingers against the skin. “Go take care of your friend,” he said, and nodded at my phone. “If you need any more pictures tomorrow, I’m your guy.”





Chapter Nine


I swung by the bar for a glass of ice water and two shots of tequila, and swiped a bottle of white wine from an ice bucket at the side of the bar. With the water in one hand, the shot glasses in the other, the wine under my arm, and two wineglasses tucked against my chest, I hurried up the stairs, the hem of my dress trailing behind me. In the big house, Drue’s bedroom door was locked. “Drue?” I called. I knocked and heard the creak of a bed, feet padding across the hardwood floors. “Here comes the bride,” called Drue, in a tear-clogged voice. When the door swung open, I saw that Drue had cried or scrubbed off all her makeup. Her hair had been pulled into a ponytail, and she’d swapped her party dress for a Harvard T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. Her feet were bare, and she’d taken off all her jewelry except for her enormous engagement ring. The man who’d given it to her was nowhere to be seen.

“Okay. Maid of honor here, with the world’s best ice water,” I said, showing her the glass. “I’ve got tequila. I’ve got wine,” I said. “And I can go back to the bar and get anything else you want. I’m so sorry about…” I paused, considering, and finally went with “…all of that. Are you okay?”

Drue stared down at the beverages. Then her face crumpled, and she started to cry, sobbing so hard that she could barely breathe. I set the beverage assortment down on her dresser beside a half-empty glass of champagne that Drue must have acquired at some point, and reached out to draw her into my arms. I patted her back, murmuring “It’s going to be okay” and “Don’t worry, everything’s fine.” It sounded as if she was trying to say something, but all I could make out was the word “dad.”

“Hey. Deep breaths. Come sit down.” I got her settled on the bed and let her cry against me. When her sobs slowed down, she lay on the bed and curled on her side with her back to me, clutching her pillow. I settled a light blanket over her and rubbed her back in circles. When her breathing calmed, I went to the bathroom, wet a washcloth, and pressed it against her forehead and her cheeks.

“That feels good.” Her voice was thick and froggy.

“My mom used to do it when I had a fever.”

Drue started crying again. “I wish… my mom…” she choked out between sobs. I kept patting her back, wondering exactly where Drue’s mother was, and why she’d decided it was more important to keep her guests comfortable than to check on her daughter. Drue’s father, I assumed, had left the premises. I wondered if he’d show his face at the wedding tomorrow. Then I wondered if there was even going to be a wedding tomorrow.

Drue pulled in a shuddering breath and pushed herself upright. She wiped her face dry with the hem of her T-shirt, grabbed one of the shot glasses, and nodded at the other one. I picked it up. “To better days,” I said. She clinked her glass against mine. We downed the booze, then I handed her the water. “Hydrate,” I instructed, and watched as she swallowed every drop.

She set the glass down and wiped her mouth with her hand. “It’s true,” she said. “It’s all true, what he said.” Her voice was raspy, and her face was splotched and flushed.

“What do you mean?”

“About the money.” She took another deep breath. “My mom was trying to spend as much on this wedding as she could. Not for me. But to get back at him. That was the entire point of this wedding. She wanted to stick it to him, one last time. They’re getting divorced.”

“Oh, Drue. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah.” She bent her head. “I just found out a few days ago. The whole time we were planning this, picking things out, my mom just kept saying that I should have everything I wanted. That it would be, you know, my big day, and how it was what my father wanted for me.” Her lower lip was quivering, and her eyes were welling again. She turned away, blinking, tossing the bright spill of her hair over her shoulder. “Things haven’t been great for my dad’s business the past few years, but I knew that I could pay him back, for whatever the wedding cost. There’s a trust fund from the other side of the family. I get it after I turn thirty, or when I get married.” She shook her head, trying to smile. “Gotta love the patriarchy. ‘You can’t have the money until you’re old enough to make good decisions, or until you marry some man and let him decide for you.’ I mean, what if I got married when I was sixteen, and my husband was seventeen?” She cleared her throat. “Anyhow. My mom was the one who wanted all this. She and my father eloped. Did I ever tell you that?”

I shook my head.

“Yep. Lily got knocked up, junior year of Sweet Briar. She and my dad got married at City Hall. When we were planning, I thought that was why she kept pushing. That it was sort of a makeup for the wedding she didn’t have. All of this—the party on the beach, the décor, the bed, the food, the car… she chose every single thing. She kept telling me to go for it, to make it fabulous, the party of the year, that he’d want that for me, and I thought…” Her voice cracked. “I thought he did. I thought he cared. I thought he was finally going to just show up for me. That he’d see how amazing it was, and he’d think that I was amazing, too. And he’d be proud of me. For the first time ever.”