Page 40 of My Ex-Best Friend's Wedding

“Listen, why don’t you two have something cold to drink?” She throws open the mini-fridge that’s always stocked so guests can help themselves—and pulls out two bottled waters and a Coke. “And maybe a snack.” She motions toward the triple-chocolate cake under a glass dome on the counter that I recognize as one of my mother’s, and my lips quiver. “Well, at least a cold drink.” She puts a bottled water in each of our hands. “You’re welcome to hang out in the living room. Or maybe you’d rather sit outside on the porch? It’s a gorgeous day.”

I nod numbly and she holds open the kitchen door for us.

“Give me a few minutes to make some calls and see what I can come up with,” she says as Spencer and I drop into rockers across from each other.

I’m vaguely aware of the sunshine and the chirping of birds and the soft breeze that wafts through the porch, but I’m still slightly detached and floating above it all. Cocoa springs up intomy lap, pads around my stomach, then curls into my arms. I stroke him absently as I rock and stare into the unlit fireplace. If I had a lap to curl up in I’d be in it.

“Are you all right?” Spencer asks.

“Not really.”

Spencer runs a hand over his face, scrubs at his eyes.

“You don’t look so good, either,” I observe.

“Yeah, well. I’ve never felt quite this helpless. I hate how blindsided you were today. I keep flashing on how I’d feel if my parents suddenly told me I was adopted. Or, I don’t know, that they stole me from a hospital nursery or something.”

“You look exactly like your father.”

“Yeah, well, you look a lot like yours, too.”

I rock a bit faster as I try to come to grips with what’s happened. How despite my hair-trigger imagination and all the things it has dredged up in my lifetime, it never even suspected anything remotely like this. “The thing I keep thinking is how could my mother have done this? And how could I not have known? I mean, she’s the one person I’ve never doubted. If you had asked me, Who do you know who always does the right thing and puts others first, my answer would have been ‘my mother.’ I’m starting to doubt my instincts. Maybe I’m not the judge of character I’ve always thought.”

“I hate that you’re looking at me right now when you’re saying that.” His tone is gentle but nowhere near teasing. “But it seems she did do what she thought was the right thing.”

“I don’t see how keeping a child from knowing its father is the right thing—even if others could be hurt by it. And if I could be this wrong about my own mother how many other people have I been wrong about? For all I know you could be a serial killer. Or maybe the doorman at my building really is a spy.”

He laughs. “I’ve met Tom and he’s no spy. Unless they’ve started teaching that Long Island accent in spy school.”

I smile and rock a little slower. I watch Spencer from insidethe thin rubber sides of my deflating balloon wondering how after all the bad boys I was attracted to I ended up with someone so sweet and well intentioned. If he weren’t here right now I’d be... I can’t even let myself think about how that would feel. I draw a deep breath. “I... I really can’t believe this.”

He nods and rocks and I love him even more for not arguing one side or the other.

“I honestly have no idea what I’m supposed to do next.”

He rocks a time or two then says, “I don’t think you’resupposedtodoanything. I think we just stay here for the rest of the week so that you can show me around and start getting to know your father.” He’s watching my face. “And then maybe we can go see your mother and sit down so that you can talk this out.”

“No.” I don’t even let him finish. My refusal is a half bark that sends Cocoa vaulting off my lap. Even thinking about it makes my stomach roil. She made me feel as if I were her confidante, that we were a unit, in this life together. Only she didn’t share the most important information of all. And then there’s the fact that I can’t stop thinking about what my life could have been with a father in it. Grandparents. I churn with what might have been, but wasn’t. “I don’t see what she could possibly say that could justify what she’s done.”

A car door slams out on the street then footsteps sound on the porch behind me. Cocoa looks up from his spot near my feet then returns to licking himself. Spencer smiles slightly, and I turn to see Brianna approaching. Her step falters as our eyes meet.

The kitchen door opens and Deanna walks out, but my eyes remain locked with Bree’s.

“What are you doing here?” My tone is sharp and accusing. Whatever inroads we’ve made today are no match for the cauldron of emotions bubbling inside me.

“I called her.” Deanna steps up between the rockers.

“Why?” I try to back off the accusatory tone but I’m beyondvocal control or, it seems, control of any kind. The walls of my protective balloon burst, leaving me singed and exposed.

“I told you this wasn’t a good idea,” Brianna says to Deanna. “Why don’t we just forget about it and...”

“I called her because there are no available rooms in Manteo at the moment,” Deanna says. “I did find something in Kill Devil Hills, but I know you’d like to be here in town so that you can get acquainted with your... um, with Jake.”

I don’t speak as I get to my feet. I can’t.

“I’d be glad to have you stay in my cottage with me until the wedding party leaves,” Dee continues, “but I’ve turned the second bedroom into an office. You’d be sleeping on a pull-out couch.”

Bree steps closer. “Deanna only called to see if any of Clay’s rental houses over near the sound might be open, but everything’s booked up.” She hesitates briefly. “Then I realized we have an extra bedroom. And I’d, we’d, be glad to have you.”

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