“Look, I’m sorry,” he says. “Don’t take it the wrong way. I was—Where are you going?”
I’m halfway out of the room. “I need to put on some makeup before dinner.”
“Summer—”
“Please, can we finally table this? There’s really nothing more to say.”
I scurry up the stairs and shut myself in the bathroom, giving the door a forceful shove to close it. I pile my hair into a sloppy bun and dab on foundation and blush, stewing the whole time. Up until ten minutes ago, it had been such a lovely, perfect afternoon.
I’m not sure what’s pissing me off more: Gabe’s unwillingness to acknowledge that there might be something unsavory about Hannah or his hint—despite his attempt to backtrack—that he thinks I’m motivated by envy. Does he really believe I was so undone by the notion of Hannah shooting a Netflix pilot that I’ve lost sight of what’s important?
I nearly tear off the top of the lipstick tube and swipe color across my lips. I wish now that I’d never confessed to Gabe how annoyed I was by an actress who was a fellow guest at a dinner party we attended last year. She was a college friend of one of the couple hosting the dinner, L.A. based but in town to shoot a movie, and she totally monopolized the conversation, regaling us with tales about this actor and that actor, using the nicknames they use in real life—like Jen instead of Jennifer—to let us know she was a member of their secret club.
There’s a knock at the bathroom door.
“Babe, we need to go. They want to eat early since it might rain later.”
“Fine,” I mutter.
“I’m really sorry, okay?”
“Okay.”
I slap on a smile because I want this week to be special, and I’m certainly not going to let Hannah drive a wedge between me and Gabe. And you know what? I’ve done my part. If something valuable goes missing this week, it won’t be my fault.
We’re halfway up the path when I detect the delicious scent of food grilling over an open flame, and soon Henry comes tearing around the corner of the house, announcing he’s shucked twenty pieces of corn for dinner. We all head over to the large built-in outdoor grill, where Ash, with Nick and Marcus at his side, is gingerly rotating kabobs, some with chicken and vegetables, others simple vegetarian ones, obviously for Hannah.
“So tell me about the wines for tonight,” Nick says to Gabe and Marcus. “What are you treating us to this time?”
“We’ve got a really nice French pinot noir,” Gabe tells him. “I think you’ll like it.”
“Not white?” Nick asks.
Marcus shoots him a look. “The only people who still think you have to drink white wine with chicken are the ones who keep those tags on their pillows that say, ‘Do not remove under penalty of law.’”
“Oh, you know us philistines,” Nick says with a laugh and then turns to Henry. “If I use the wrong fork tonight, can you correct your old uncle Nick right away?”
It might be only good-natured ribbing—Marcus and Nick get into that at times—but I sense extra tension tonight. Ash seems to make a point of ignoring them, though, and asks Henry to let Bonnie know that the kabobs are done and it’s time to eat.
At the table, I park myself as far away as possible from Hannah and motion for Henry to sit by my side. Gabe leaves his phone at the place across from me and joins Marcus in pouring the wine. They’ve no sooner taken their seats when everyone’s attention is drawn to Blake, who’s tapping his wine goblet with a knife. We all focus his way as he rises from his seat.
“First,” he says, “I’d like to thank Mom and Dad for another wonderful day. They say living well is the best revenge and I suppose that’s true. But living well is also a testament to following your passion, working incredibly hard, and always striving for the best. And that’s what your lives have been about.”
People smile and Gabe calls out, “Hear, hear.”
“Second,” he says with a smile, “Wendy and I have an important announcement to make.”
Wow, seems like I might have been right about the pregnancy.
“I’m thrilled to tell you all,” he continues, “that we’re expecting. And needless to say, we’re over the moon about it.”
The whole table erupts in applause and shouts of congratulations. Gabe looks especially happy, and to my surprise, I even find myself blinking back tears.
As the others at the table barrage Blake and Wendy with questions—“When are you due?” (“December”); “Do you know the sex?” (“Not yet, but we want to and will let everyone know”); “Have you had any morning sickness?” (“A little”)—Henry tugs on my arm.
“Does expecting mean a baby?” he whispers in my ear.
“Yes, that’s right. You’ll finally have a cousin, sweetie.”
“Cool, though we’ll be nine years apart, right? So it’s not like we can go to Disney World together, or anything.”
“No, but it will be so much fun to have him or her in the family.”
As if on cue, Bonnie and her helper, the dogs trailing behind them, emerge from the house and set a huge blue ceramic bowl of potato salad on the table along with a platter of steaming corn on the cob, then return with two trays of kabobs.
Ash, I notice, is still beaming as we pass the food up and down the table—and though I can’t see Claire from where I’m sitting, I’m sure she’s in heaven, too. She sometimes plays her cards close to the vest, like Marcus, but I sense that she’s fretted about Blake and Wendy’s fertility struggles.
Speaking of Marcus, as I glance down the table, I catch him stealing a look at Hannah, his expression hard like it was last night. It’s so not a look that says, You know, she was never my type, but I’m really glad my twin brother seems to like her.
And then once again, there’s a tinkle of metal on glass, but this time it’s Nick who rises out of his seat.
“I want to express what I know we’re all feeling right now,” he says, grinning ear to ear. “Blake, we still have no idea in the world how you ended up as a dermatologist, and, man, a golfer to boot, but we love you to death and are incredibly happy for you and Wendy. And since this seems to be a good night for announcements, I have one to make myself. Or rather, Hannah and I do.”
The bottom falls out of my stomach. This can’t be happening. Everyone at the table seems to freeze, lips parted, utensils in midair.
“I know this may come as a surprise to everyone,” he continues, “and in some ways it’s even a surprise to me. But sometimes good things come at you when you least expect them.”
He pauses and I hold my breath.
“I’ve asked Hannah to marry me, and to my delight she’s said yes.”
6
What follows is a nearly deafening silence, except for the sound of Bella’s snorting as she noses around under the table. None of us appear to be breathing, let alone speaking. I steal a glance at Gabe, who’s staring right at Nick, his expression blank, but from the infinitesimal, telltale wrinkle of his brow it’s clear that the news has stunned him.
Though I manage to pick my stomach up off the ground, it quickly starts to roil. My adorable, charming brother-in-law, the kid brother I never had, is planning to marry a woman he’s known for only two months. And who might be a thief, and possibly a sociopath. Which means my life with my in-laws—every future family dinner at Gabe’s parents’ apartment, every group weekend out here, every family vacation—is about to be irrevocably altered by her presence.