home, Miss Ivy.” He pulls back and gives me a once over proudly. “Italy looks good on you.”
“Thanks, Harold.” I reach up on my tiptoes and give him a soft kiss on his cheek, smiling as he blushes. “I’ve missed you too.”
Behind me, Genevieve haughtily clears her throat and waits for Harold to open the door. I step out of her way and give Harold an overdramatic eye roll as I climb in after her. Now, more than ever, I am thankful for his years of service to our family and to the old friend he has been to me.
As we pull onto Lake Shore Drive, Genevieve’s phone shrills to the tune of church bells. “Hi, baby,” she coos into the receiver.
I turn to look out the window and give her as much privacy as the backseat of a town car can afford. Outside, the path along Lake Michigan is filled with runners and cyclists soaking in the beautiful weather. What I would give to escape the insanity of my family and join them in their free afternoon.
“What do you mean you can’t make it?” Genevieve exasperates. “Damn it, CJ! You have to be here today. We’re finalizing the centerpieces. I can’t do this without you.”
I want to tell her that she is fully capable of making these kinds of decisions without him, that he likely doesn’t give a shit about these kind of things, but I hold my tongue. It’s not my problem.
“You’ve got to be kidding me. Tell him that there are plenty of other fish in the sea. Tell him … tell him that life is tough and to wear a helmet.” She shuts up momentarily, finally listening to what he has to say. “Fine,” she growls. “You owe me.”
Genevieve dramatically throws her phone into her clutch. No good-bye, no I love you, no nothing. For the first time ever, I look at my sister and feel an overwhelming sense of pity. If she is going to handle her marriage like that, like our parents did, she is in for a lifetime of disappointment. Assuming they even make it that long.
She releases a weighted sigh and turns to face me. “I’m so sorry, Ivy,” she croons sweetly at me. “Apparently, CJ is unable to join us this afternoon. It appears that one of his groomsmen is having girlfriend troubles and started drinking with breakfast. My darling feels it’s necessary to interfere and do damage control before things with him get worse. Rain check on meeting the love of my life?” The plastic smile on her pretty little face is a perfect match for her plastic life.
It’s revolting.
“Yeah, that’s fine,” I reply.
“It’ll probably be a few weeks before you get to meet him now. He is heading out of town on business,” she tells me, swearing under her breath.
I can’t help but think she has a thing or two to learn about love. My thoughts are interrupted by her detailing a recent rift she had with the florist about her tropical flowers. It seems as if this florist reassured her that tropical flowers flown in from Hawaii would be more sustainable than the tropical flowers she demanded from Tahiti.
First world problems.
If she put half as much effort into her relationships as she did with this wedding, she would be set for life.
As we drive through the city, I can’t help but wonder what Phoenix is doing today. I grab my phone and fire off a quick message his way.
Ivy: Thanks again for Saturday night. I hope you’re having a good day! Catch up soon?
I toss my phone back into my purse and brace myself for what will inevitably be the world’s longest afternoon.
By the time we finally get home I’m exhausted. Not only did we spend three hours at the florist, but we also dropped off the name cards at the calligrapher’s studio, stopped by the seamstress to make sure that my monstrosity of a dress fit, then ran to a local bakery to design a groom’s cake as a surprise. To top off our day, we had dinner at my favorite pizza joint in the entire city where Genevieve proceeded to order a salad—a criminal offense in the presence of deep-dish lovers, but I
“Thanks, Harold.” I reach up on my tiptoes and give him a soft kiss on his cheek, smiling as he blushes. “I’ve missed you too.”
Behind me, Genevieve haughtily clears her throat and waits for Harold to open the door. I step out of her way and give Harold an overdramatic eye roll as I climb in after her. Now, more than ever, I am thankful for his years of service to our family and to the old friend he has been to me.
As we pull onto Lake Shore Drive, Genevieve’s phone shrills to the tune of church bells. “Hi, baby,” she coos into the receiver.
I turn to look out the window and give her as much privacy as the backseat of a town car can afford. Outside, the path along Lake Michigan is filled with runners and cyclists soaking in the beautiful weather. What I would give to escape the insanity of my family and join them in their free afternoon.
“What do you mean you can’t make it?” Genevieve exasperates. “Damn it, CJ! You have to be here today. We’re finalizing the centerpieces. I can’t do this without you.”
I want to tell her that she is fully capable of making these kinds of decisions without him, that he likely doesn’t give a shit about these kind of things, but I hold my tongue. It’s not my problem.
“You’ve got to be kidding me. Tell him that there are plenty of other fish in the sea. Tell him … tell him that life is tough and to wear a helmet.” She shuts up momentarily, finally listening to what he has to say. “Fine,” she growls. “You owe me.”
Genevieve dramatically throws her phone into her clutch. No good-bye, no I love you, no nothing. For the first time ever, I look at my sister and feel an overwhelming sense of pity. If she is going to handle her marriage like that, like our parents did, she is in for a lifetime of disappointment. Assuming they even make it that long.
She releases a weighted sigh and turns to face me. “I’m so sorry, Ivy,” she croons sweetly at me. “Apparently, CJ is unable to join us this afternoon. It appears that one of his groomsmen is having girlfriend troubles and started drinking with breakfast. My darling feels it’s necessary to interfere and do damage control before things with him get worse. Rain check on meeting the love of my life?” The plastic smile on her pretty little face is a perfect match for her plastic life.
It’s revolting.
“Yeah, that’s fine,” I reply.
“It’ll probably be a few weeks before you get to meet him now. He is heading out of town on business,” she tells me, swearing under her breath.
I can’t help but think she has a thing or two to learn about love. My thoughts are interrupted by her detailing a recent rift she had with the florist about her tropical flowers. It seems as if this florist reassured her that tropical flowers flown in from Hawaii would be more sustainable than the tropical flowers she demanded from Tahiti.
First world problems.
If she put half as much effort into her relationships as she did with this wedding, she would be set for life.
As we drive through the city, I can’t help but wonder what Phoenix is doing today. I grab my phone and fire off a quick message his way.
Ivy: Thanks again for Saturday night. I hope you’re having a good day! Catch up soon?
I toss my phone back into my purse and brace myself for what will inevitably be the world’s longest afternoon.
By the time we finally get home I’m exhausted. Not only did we spend three hours at the florist, but we also dropped off the name cards at the calligrapher’s studio, stopped by the seamstress to make sure that my monstrosity of a dress fit, then ran to a local bakery to design a groom’s cake as a surprise. To top off our day, we had dinner at my favorite pizza joint in the entire city where Genevieve proceeded to order a salad—a criminal offense in the presence of deep-dish lovers, but I
Similar Books
