Because for one small moment in this life, I saw what could be.
Even if it was all just a beautiful lie.
42
Natalie
“So, are you excited?”
I shrug weakly. “Sure.”
Vivian shakes her head and slips her arm into mine as we leave the new, different dress shop where I’ve just been trying on wedding dresses.
Again.
She smiles as she tightens her grip on my arm and steers me across the street.
“Where are we going?”
Vivian grins. “Mother’s recipe for stress and hard decisions.”
I shoot her a questioning look and she rolls her eyes.
“We’re going to get drunk, silly. On gin if we really want to truly become our mother.”
Shit.
Vivian pulls me into an upscale cocktail place, and we breeze through the mostly empty bar room to two empty stools.
“Viv, it’s a little early.”
She shrugs. “Perfect. If only it was breakfast, than we’d really be following Lenore’s recipe.” She turns to the hipster-looking bartender wearing suspenders. “Gin martini, up with olives.”
He looks at me and I shake my head. “Just soda water, thanks.”
Vivian groans. “Nat, I’m drinking before noon on a Wednesday because I am your sister and you need me right now. But I am not doing it alone.”
She turns back to suspenders. “Another gin martini, and please make hers extra dirty,” she says with a flirty wink at the guy.
Shit. Double shit.
She turns to me. “This is going to sound terrible, given that you’re getting married in a matter of days, but…” She gives me a sympathetic look. “It’s only marriage.”
I choke out a laugh, looking down and picking at the cocktail napkin in front of me.
“I mean, look, Vince is…fine, right? I mean he’s never hit you or anything has he?”
“Viv, he cheated on me.”
She rolls her eyes, waving her hand dismissively. “Can I ask you an awkward question?”
I nod, and she purses her lips. “Do you love him? Vince, that is.”
“No,” I say it without hesitation.
No, because my heart’s already been stolen by the last man on earth I should have given it to. The man with the voice like leather and tobacco and honey, and the eyes like a wild forest.
Vivian smiles sadly. “Well, then, why stress about it? Look, everyone knows what this is - what this marriage thing really is between you and Vince.”
I almost choke on my tongue. “They do?”
Vivian rolls her eyes. “Nat, of course they do. It’s an arrangement - a convenience. Like Marnie Summers, or basically any of the other girls we grew up with. God, it’s what our own mother did. Twice.”
The bartender comes back over with our drinks, and I roll my eyes as Vivian bats her eyes and lets her fingers trails his as she takes the drink from his hand.
She turns back to me. “Look, it’s not about love, but then, that only exists in cartoon movies with singing woodland creatures anyways. This is the real world, and in this world, you need to do what you need to do.” She shrugs. “If that means marrying Vince Capra and having a kid or two before he gets bored and starts banging his secretary, then who cares? You don’t love him, and hell…”
She raises her martini glass to me and grins wickedly. “You can have your own torrid affairs. Now drink.”
I look down at the martini in front of me and shake my head.
Viv makes a face. “Natalie, I swear to God- just drink it.”
“I’m really okay, Viv.”
She makes a grumbling sound at me as she frowns. “Will you stop being such a baby and-”
And suddenly, I can practically see the lightbulb go off above her head.
“Oh. My. God,” she says quietly, her eyes wide. “Vince?”
I roll my eyes, pushing tears away as I feel my face start to crumple.
“Oh God, Nat.” She quickly wraps her arms around me, hugging me close as I shake my head.
“God no.”
“Austin?”
I sniffle out a groan. “Of course, Austin. God, who do you think I am?”
She pulls back from me, biting her lip and smiling. “Hey, just asking.”
She grabs a napkin from the bar and leans close to carefully blot at my wet eyes, her thumb stroking my cheek.
“He doesn’t know, does he.”
It’s not a question, but I answer anyways. “Neither of them do.”
Viv gives me a pained look. “Oh, God, you’re not going to play it off like it’s Vin-”
I look up and meet her eyes, and she stops.
“You are, aren’t you.”
I nod.
My sister sits back in her bar stool, shaking her head and wrinkling her face. “Well, that’ll work until the kid ends up being really good at football.”