Too Good to Be True(64)

I just wished I could stop thinking about it.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

IT WAS QUITE A RELIEF to have Julian back as a regular feature in my life. And not only did I have him, but also the handsome and debonair Tim Gunn, since Project Runway was on. Margaret had deigned to come downstairs, I’d made popcorn and brownies, and it was the happiest I’d felt in a good while.

This week had been tough at school. The kids were dying to do anything but learn, and the seniors’ year had basically ended once they’d heard from the colleges. I understood, had shown Glory instead of making them work, but still. I couldn’t do nothing, either, which was what Ava was doing…letting the seniors text their friends and gossip, despite the fact that classes wouldn’t end for weeks.

Speaking of Ava, her presentation to the board had been (from her own account, anyway) dazzling. The fact that she was sleeping with the chairman (according to Kiki, seconded by Paul and hinted at by Ava herself) certainly wasn’t hurting her cause. My presentation was soon, and I’d been going over it feverishly, wondering if I should pull back on the changes I wanted to make, stick with the status quo a bit more.

On the dating front, eCommitment had offered up a mortician whose passion was taxidermy (understandable, I guess, but that didn’t mean I had to date him) and an unemployed man who lived in his parents’ basement and collected Pokémon cards. Come on! I was tired of looking. Granted, I hadn’t been at it very long, but I wanted a break. I’d break up with Wyatt and just tell my family he was a workaholic, the end. Then I could relax and just enjoy life. I thought it was a great plan.

“Which one is that again?” Margaret asked, stuffing more popcorn into her mouth. She was supposedly working on a brief and did indeed have a yellow legal pad next to her, but it was forgotten as she succumbed to the siren call of my favorite show.

“That’s the one who made his mother a gown when he was six,” Julian answered, stroking Angus’s back. “The prodigy. He’s cute, too. I think he might be g*y.”

“Really,” Margaret said. “Hmm. A guy who designs women’s clothing. Gay. Who knew?”

“Now, now. No need for stereotypes,” Julian chided.

“Said the g*y male dance instructor,” Margaret added, grinning.

“Replied the angry, driven, heterosexual female defense attorney,” Julian countered.

“Retorted the man who spends thirty minutes on his hair each day, owns three cats and knits them sweaters,”

Margaret said.

“Sniped the beautiful, bitter workaholic who walked out on her mild-mannered husband, essentially castrating him,” returned Julian. They grinned fondly at each other.

“You win,” Margaret said. “The angry hetero concedes to the dancing fairy.” Julian batted his impressive eyelashes at her.

“Children. Stop your bickering or there’s no ice cream for you,” I said, spreading my middle-child peacekeeping karma among them. “Oh, look, Tim’s giving them the challenge.” We fell silent, hanging on Tim Gunn’s every word. Of course, that was when the phone rang.

“Don’t get it,” hissed Julian, turning up the TV from the remote.

I disobeyed after glancing at the caller ID. “Hey, Nat.”

“Hi, Gissy! How’s it going?”

“I’m great,” I said, trying to listen to the show. Ooh. Dresses out of materials found at the dump. This would be a good one.

“What are you doing?” Natalie asked.

“Oh, um, we’re just watching Project Runway,” I answered.

“He’s there? Wyatt’s there?” Natalie squealed.

“No, Julian’s here. Wyatt’s in, um, Boston.”

Julian’s head snapped around, and he scootched closer to me so he could listen. Project Runway went into commercial.

“Well, listen, I wanted to ask you a favor. Andrew and I are going to come up on Friday for a family dinner. You know, the Carsons and you guys, and I wanted to make sure you could make it. With Wyatt.”

I winced.

“I think he can finally get away, don’t you, Grace? I mean, there are other doctors in Boston, right?” She chuckled.

“Uh, dinner? With the Carsons?” Margaret recoiled at the name, Julian looked stricken. They remembered the Carsons. I simulated shooting myself in the temple.

“Um…Friday?” I gestured to Margaret and Julian for help. “Gee, we, um…we sort of have plans.”

“Grace, come on!” Natalie said. “This is getting ridiculous.”

You have no idea, I thought.

Margaret jumped up and pried the phone out of my hand. “Nat, it’s Margs.” Margaret listened for a second. “Well, shit, Nat, did you ever think that maybe Grace is afraid Wyatt will fall for you, too?”

“Stop! That’s not nice. Give me the phone, Margaret.” I wrestled the receiver out of my older sister’s hand and spoke soothingly to my younger sister. “I’m back, Nattie.”

“Grace, that’s not true, is it?” she whispered.

“Of course not! No!” I glared at Margaret, then lowered my voice. “I can tell you this, because I know you’ll understand.” Margaret sighed loudly. “Nat,” I continued, “you know how Wyatt and I don’t get to spend too much time together. And I told him I was losing patience. So he made these special plans…”