The Hating Game(87)
“You would be amazed by the damage to arteries caused by high-fat diets,” Anthony pipes up.
“Would you say the occasional treat is okay? I hope so.” I’m forking the cake into my mouth.
“Ideally, no. Saturated fat, trans fats, once they go into your arteries, they aren’t coming out. Unless you have a heart attack and someone like Elaine has to fix you.”
“He’s a little strict with himself,” Elaine assures me as I drop my fork with a clatter and press my hands to my chest. “Treats are okay. They’re better than okay.”
“She asked my opinion,” Anthony points out gravely. “And I gave it.”
I notice he’s got no cake in front of him. I’m reminded of the all-staff meeting. Josh didn’t eat any cake then, either. I glance sideways, and to my surprise Josh picks up his fork and begins eating cake too. It’s a great big giant fuck-you to his dad. Over and over we fork cake into our greedy faces until Anthony’s forehead pinches in distaste, clearly unused to having his sage advice ignored.
“Self-indulgence is a tricky thing. It can be hard to get yourself back on track once you begin indulging trivial little impulses.” Anthony is not talking about cake. Josh drops his fork with a clatter.
Elaine looks wretched. “Anthony, please. Leave him alone.”
“Come with me,” I tell him, and to my mild surprise he rises obediently and walks with me to the shadowed edge of the empty dance floor.
“Can you please explain what’s going on? This tension is excruciating. I’m sorry, but your dad is being a dick. Is he always like this?”
He jams a hand into his hair. “Like father, like son.”
“No, you’re not like this. He’s being bitchy and your mom is upset. His speech was so weird.” Every single time I feel protective of Josh, the realization pings me right in the solar plexus. I take his hand, which is folded into a fist, and smooth my hand over the knuckles.
He watches my fingers. “Dinner’s over. We’ve gotten through it. That’s all I care about.”
“But why does it feel like all eyes are on you? It seems like everyone in this room is looking at you, wondering if you’re coping okay. It’s like, Hang in there, sport.”
“I think they’ll assume I’m not suffering too badly.” He loops a hand around my waist, and the glow of his flattery hits my bloodstream, along with probably two thousand premium cake calories.
“They’re wrong. No one makes you suffer like I do.” I receive a smile for my cleverness. “Are you okay? Please tell me about this Big Scandal that they’re all whispering about. I cannot fathom that you deciding to not be a doctor could cause such a fuss.”
It’s rare to see Josh procrastinate, but he does now. “It’s a long story. Bathroom first.”
“If you climb out the window, I’m going to be really mad.”
“I’ll be back, I promise. I’ll tell you the whole sorry tale. Will you be okay for a minute?”
“I’ve had to make friends with half the people in this room, remember? I’m sure I’ll find someone to hang out with.” I watch him go and strike the most casual pose I can manage.
I haven’t actually spoken to Mindy yet. Outside, she was always being moved around by the photographers, but she’d smiled at me and I have the impression that she is nice. She’s nearby speaking animatedly to an older couple. When they move away, I smile and wave tentatively. I feel bad she has to have strangers at her wedding.
“Hello, Mindy, I’m Lucy. I’m Joshua’s, ah, plus-one. Thank you so much for having me here. The ceremony was lovely. And I love your dress.”
“Nice to meet you. I’ve been dying to.” She smiles broadly, her dark eyes lit with undisguised interest as she looks me over.
“You’re the girl who’s melted the ice man.”
“Oh! Um. I don’t know about melted . . . Ice man?” I’m at my articulate best.
“You know Josh and I dated for a year?” She waves her hand quickly as if it were nothing.
“What? No.” My stomach folds in half. And in half again. She puts one hand to her hair and smoothes the already perfect style. It’s blond. She’s tall, tan, and brown eyed. She’s Tall Blondie.
My mouth is probably a perfect circle. I am speechless. It is all dropping into place. How humiliating would it be to go alone to your ex-girlfriend’s wedding? Especially when she’s marrying your brother?
“How long ago did you meet Patrick?” I am trying to keep my voice modulated. I sound like my car’s GPS.
“I’d known him while dating Josh, of course. When all that business with Josh’s work going through the merger, I started talking to Patrick to try to understand why Josh was being so distant. He isn’t much of a talker, as you know.”
I look at all the strangers who have been staring at Josh all night. They’ve been wondering how he’s coping with seeing this beautiful woman marry his brother. A year. They would have definitely slept together. This willowy, immaculate blonde has lain in his bed. Kissed his mouth. I swallow acid.
“Patrick and I just clicked. It’s been a bit of a whirlwind; we only got engaged six months ago. I still feel bad about it, but Josh and I were not a good fit. I found his moods to be scary sometimes. I still hardly know what to talk to him about. I’m sorry, I’m being rude. Please don’t tell him I said that.”