Nearlyweds (10 page)

Marissa’s face turned bright red as she glanced from the sauce simmering on the stove top to me.

“Marissa! Hurry! It’s your favorite part!”

“Go ahead,” I said, waving her toward the door. “Go. Don’t feel bad. I’ll just…do everything myself.”

And I did. While
It’s a Wonderful Life
segued into
Miracle on 34th Street
(another fond childhood favorite, as it turned out), I slaved over the turkey and the trimmings. I let Cash out of the laundry room and he sat loyally by the stove, waiting for me to reward his patience with munchies. Three hours later, the turkey was dry, the potatoes were lumpy, the stuffing was singed, and the gravy had congealed into a brown paste, but dinner was as ready as it was going to get.

“Okay, you guys!” I yelled toward the family room. “Dinner is served.”

All I heard in response was the sweeping violin from the movie’s sound track. So I set the table and arranged the food artfully on the starched linen tablecloth. Even Casey would have been proud of my presentation.

“Hel-looo!
Dinner is served!
” I hollered down the hall.

Still nothing.

Trying to think charitable, holiday-appropriate thoughts, I marched into the family room. Mark, Marissa, and Taylor were watching the TV with slack-jawed fascination while snacking from a plate of cheese and crackers they’d somehow smuggled in from the kitchen, presumably while I’d been on a bathroom break.

I gasped. “You’ve spoiled your appetites!”

“No, no,” Mark assured me, brushing crumbs off his sweater. “We just needed a little something to tide us over. Because, uh, everything smells so good.”

“
So
good.” Taylor smirked. “I gather you charbroiled the turkey. Very nouvelle cuisine.”

I dug my fingernails into my palms. “Let’s just eat, okay?”

“Okay.” Mark nodded. “As soon as this scene is over.”

I snatched the remote out of Taylor’s hand and snapped off the TV. “Now.”

Mark couldn’t have looked more shocked if I’d slapped him. “Stella!”

“What? I’ve worked very hard to make a nice dinner for us, and I would like us to please sit down before it gets cold.” I paused, searching for one of those academic phrases he was forever throwing around. “I.e., right now.”

In the long pause that followed, we heard it—the clinking of china from the dining room.

“What the hell?” Mark led the charge down the hall, where we found the shredded turkey carcass lying on the rug, the bowl that had previously contained mashed potatoes empty, and the bread basket overturned. Under the table, Cash rolled over onto his back, wagging his tail as he licked his chops.

“My food.” Tears flooded into my eyes. “My dinner. All my hard work.”

Behind me, Taylor started to snicker.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Mark put one arm around me. “I’m so sorry.”

This just made me tearier.

He cleared his throat. “But, you know, I did ask you to put the dog outside.”

W
hen the doorbell rang on Thanksgiving Day, my heart soared as I ran to answer it. Nick had come back! He’d finally decided to put me first! Finally—we could start behaving like a real married couple.

“Hang on,” I called as I wrestled with the shiny security chain. When I finally got the door open, I found…“
Erin?”

“Hi.” She was leaning against the porch railing wearing loose black pants, her puffy green parka, and a scowl that suggested she’d chugged a whole quart of vinegar on the ride over.

“Uh-oh. What happened?” I stepped back into the entryway and motioned her inside.

The scowl deepened. “Thanksgiving with Renée. That’s what happened. Listen, I’m sorry to barge in unannounced like this, but if I stayed in that house one more second, I was going to do
something that would cost me my medical license. And my family’s in California, and all my other friends are in Boston, and I don’t want them to know that David and I are…well, that we’re spending Thanksgiving like this.”

“No problem. Think of me as the newlywed halfway house.” I shut the door and held out a hand for her coat. “Did Renée start with the peanuts again?”

“I didn’t have time to find out.” Erin’s hands shook a bit as she shucked off her parka.
“She’s moving in.”

My eyebrows shot up to my hairline. “I thought you said David—”

“He talked to her. I talked to her. Everyone talked to her, but there’s no stopping the mother-in-law from hell. Our guest room is filled with her luggage right now. And once she’s in…” Erin shuddered. “We’ll never get her out.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. She wins.” Erin’s eyes were bleak. “I lose. She’s got my husband, my house, my Thanksgiving dinner…it’s all over.”

“You’re in shock.” I walked her over to the sofa and made her sit. “But it’s not over between you and David. Everything’s going to be fine.”

Erin shook her head. “No, you don’t understand. Once Renée’s in the house with us…I’d heard all those clichés about you don’t just marry the man, you marry his whole family, but…” She slumped back into the cushions. “The power. The evil. My God, I had no idea.”

There was only one appropriate response to this. “I’ll make coffee.” While the Colombian roast brewed, I arranged some of my homemade Christmas cookies on a hand-painted seasonal plate and brought them out to Erin.

“You need to eat,” I said firmly.

“I can’t.”

“You have to.” I thrust the plate toward her. “Come on now—have a gingerbread man. One hundred percent peanut-free. You need your strength to plan your counterattack.”

While Erin nibbled the arms off a gingerbread man, I sat down on the ottoman next to her. “I’m glad you came over. Thanksgiving just isn’t the same unless I get to play hostess.”

She stopped nibbling and looked around. “Hey. Where’s Nick?”

I folded my hands primly in my lap. “Detroit.”

She waited for me to elaborate, and when I didn’t, she ventured, “Is there something you want to tell me?”

“No.” I laughed bitterly. “I have the perfect husband, haven’t you heard? I landed the catch to end all catches. He just happens to prefer spending Thanksgiving in Michigan to spending it with his wife.”

“But I thought you two were going over to his parents’ house?”

“We were. But then his friends called up yesterday morning and said they had extra tickets for the Lions game in Michigan
today and anyone who wanted to see ‘football history in the making’ should pile in for the road trip.”

Erin whistled. “Oh boy.”

I smiled pleasantly. “‘Oh boy’ is right.”

She handed the cookie platter back to me. “I think you need these more than I do.”

“He hasn’t even called to check in since he left. It’s a ten-hour drive, and I know he brought his cell phone.”

“Well…” She took another bite of gingerbread to stall. “You know how guys are. Maybe he just forgot?”

I snorted. “Has David ever forgotten to call you on a major holiday?”

Erin shrugged. “It’s never been an issue. Ever since we moved in together, we’ve spent the holidays together. Us and Renée.”

“At least he doesn’t leave you to explain to his family why he couldn’t be bothered to show up for your first married Thanksgiving. His mom and dad are
livid
that he took off; I tried to smooth things over, but they just went off on this rant about how he hasn’t been the same since he quit law school.”

“They sound lovely.”

“No, they are, actually, but Nick was supposed to get his JD and take over his dad’s firm and marry Julia, his girlfriend from law school, and instead, well, he quit after his second year and married me. It’s a little embarrassing for them.”

Erin cocked her head. “Why on earth would they be embarrassed?”

“Because I’m, you know.”

“What?” she prompted.

“You know.” I lowered my voice. “White trash.”

“Casey, don’t be ridiculous!”

“Says the woman with the Harvard MD. It’s easy for you to laugh, sure, but I grew up in a trailer park with my mom, her assorted live-in boyfriends, no dad, clothes from Goodwill, and a sister who slept with literally every single member of the football team. The Nestor girls are legendary in this town, and not in a good way.”

Erin shook her head. “But you’re not your mom or your sister. Just because they made mistakes—”

“Let me ask you something. You’re a fancy Ivy Leaguer like Nick’s parents; is my family the kind of family you’d want
your
child marrying into?”

She couldn’t maintain eye contact. “Your family doesn’t make you who you are.”

“But they’re part of the package. You said it yourself—you don’t just marry a person, you marry their whole family.”

“I can see how it would be hard to grow up in a small town like this with a family like that, but don’t you think you’re being a little too sensitive? I mean, look at you now! You’re a pillar of the community! You went to college, you own your own business, you do volunteer work for the local animal-rescue groups—”

“I married a nice boy from a nice family,” I finished for her. “Only problem is, he’s too good for me and everyone knows it. Including him.”

“Is that what you really think?” Erin asked incredulously. “Nick Keating is too good for you?”

“Let’s look at the facts: I initiated moving in together. I’m the one who kept bringing up marriage. I had to…” I wanted to confess that I’d sort of had to propose to him, but that sounded too pathetic, so I said, “I had to buy my own engagement ring.”

She helped herself to a chocolate macaroon and jabbed it toward the tiny diamond sparkling on my left hand. “You paid for that?”

“Pretty much.” I gnawed the inside of my cheek. “He was paying off a lot of debt at the time, and—”

“And
he’s
too good for
you
?” Erin spewed a few cookie crumbs in her vehemence. “Do you hear yourself?”

I started to shake this off, saying, “You don’t know the whole story,” but she was having none of it.

“Casey, I don’t care how hunky he was in high school. That was twelve years ago. He should be down on his knees kissing your feet!”

“We balance each other out,” I insisted. “I’m controlling and judgmental. He’s a free spirit. I’m incredibly hard to live with—”

“And he’s not?”

I thought about the pipe wrench on the rim of the tub.

“I guess,” I said grudgingly. “I just always wanted him so much. He didn’t even look at me when we were teenagers; I was twenty-seven when he finally asked me out—”

“When he finally smartened up, you mean.” Erin snorted.

“He had just moved home after he left law school and happened to be driving by when my truck got a flat out by Waronoke Pond. He stopped to help me change the tire, and he looked at me and I looked at him…it was straight out of a movie, I tell you.” The memory still made me smile. “I knew exactly who he was, of course, but he didn’t remember me. He didn’t realize we’d gone to school together until I told him, on our third date. I was so thrilled to finally be with him—”

“Okay, you need to stop with the hero worship. If you aren’t an equal partner in the relationship, you’re screwed. Reality check: he’s just a
guy.
A cute guy, I’ll give you that, but a
guy.
With plenty of faults and questionable commitment to his marriage.”

“Not true.” I shook my head. “Nick would never cheat on me. I worry about a lot of things, but that’s not one of them.”

“He doesn’t have to cheat to check out of the relationship,” she pointed out. “He’s in
Detroit.
What did he say when he found out you guys weren’t legally married?”

I leapt to my feet. “Coffee’s ready! Would you like cream and sugar?”

“Don’t insult me with these transparent diversionary tactics. What did he say?”

“Not much, actually.”

Erin furrowed her brow. “Did you guys already make it official at the courthouse? Jeez, you’re so efficient.”

“No, we haven’t made it to the courthouse yet.” I retreated to the kitchen.

“Wait!” She jumped up and followed me. “What is going on with you?”

I turned my back on her and stared into the cupboard at the orderly rows of matching blue mugs. “Here’s the thing. I haven’t exactly told him yet.”

I heard her sharp intake of breath.

“Don’t be all—” I imitated her scandalized gasp. “It was hard enough getting him down that aisle the first time. And now whenever we have a fight, whenever we have to scramble to pay the rent and the heating bill and the lease on the store, he breaks out the same old line:
‘You’re the one who had to get married.
’”

She made a face. “And why do you want to be legally bound to this guy, again?”

“Because I love him!” I exploded. “And he loves me. In our own twisted way, we make each other happy.”

Erin looked like she was struggling to hold her tongue.

“And don’t give me that look,” I added. “Because yes, we are happy. Or we were, anyway. Before the wedding.”

“If you say so.”

“I do say so.” I poured piping hot coffee into the mugs, spilling a bit with uncharacteristic clumsiness. “I can handle my own husband. Besides. Don’t you have your own faux marriage to save?”

Erin wrapped both hands around her coffee mug as if trying to absorb the warmth through the ceramic. “Don’t remind me. Listen, have you eaten yet?”

“Nope. I made a pumpkin pie for Nick’s parents, but his mom was going to cook most of the meal.”

“I’m starving,” she declared. “Absolutely famished.”

Suddenly, I was starving, too. “I have a homemade lasagna in the freezer,” I volunteered.

“Sounds delicious.”

While we were waiting for our makeshift Thanksgiving dinner to defrost in the oven, we flipped on the TV and watched the tail end of
Miracle on 34th Street.

“Just think,” Erin said, tucking her stocking feet up under her on the couch. “All over America, normal, happy families are watching this and getting along and eating turkey and stuffing.”

“No, they’re not,” I replied. “They’re all bickering and criticizing each other and sneaking secret gulps of booze in the garage. There’s no such thing as a normal family.”

As soon as Erin heard the words “bickering and criticizing,” she sat bolt upright. “Oh, crap, that reminds me—I have to
call my parents.” I excused myself to the bedroom to give her some privacy while she dialed her cell.

I collapsed into the smushy down comforter on the bed and mulled over what Erin had said. Maybe she had a point. What was more important: marriage or football?

The frustration that had festered inside me all day surged into fury. Who did he think he was, anyway?

I grabbed the cordless phone lying on the nightstand and punched in Nick’s cell phone number. He didn’t bother to pick up, but that was fine: I could say my piece to his voice mail.

“Hi, honey, how’s your trip?” My tone stayed relentlessly upbeat. “I’m calling to give you some news: remember how you didn’t want to get married? Well, surprise, you’re not! Legal glitch, blah, blah, blah, long story short, we’re still technically single! And you get to stay that way, you lucky boy! You always manage to get your way, don’t you? I’ll have your things packed and waiting on the porch when you come home.”

Then I hung up, wrenched off my diamond engagement ring and gold wedding band, and slammed them into the nightstand drawer.

“Casey?” Erin called from the front room. “You okay in there?”

“I’m fantabulous,” I announced, storming down the hall to show off my newly naked left hand. “I just broke a few of the chains that bind me.”

“Viva la revolution.” She raised her fist in solidarity. “Now let’s eat. Is the lasagna ready yet?”

We both jumped when we heard the knock at the door.

“Who’s that?” Erin whispered.