Page 66 of My Favorite Lost Cause
MAREN
As far as I can tell, there is no one in the state of New York that my mother has not invited to this party—in our home which only possesses five bedrooms.
“Everyone thinks they’re staying here!” my mother shrieks, pacing the wide-plank floors of the kitchen. “Where do they think they’re going to sleep?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Mom, you know that when you saycome to our house in the Hamptons, people think you are literally inviting them to stay.”
“Well, I wasn’t, and now I’m short at least a hundred and sixty beds.”
“If the party is successful enough,” Roger says with a grin, “no one will need beds. Or they’ll only need thembriefly.”
Charlie would be cheerful in precisely the same way if I were panicking. And it probably wouldn’t work, just as it is not working with my mom, but it leaves me homesick for him already. “Roger, half the guests are over the age of forty. They are not going to be staying up all night, nor will they be using the beds for other purposes.”
“Apparently, I have more faith in our age group than you do, hon. Maren, you’ll stay up all night, right?”
I sigh. “It sounds like I won’t have much of an option.”
An hour later, Henry arrives. He pulls me out to the back porch before my mother can suck him into her madness. “How are things, kiddo?”
My smile is overly bright. One of those Anna Kendrick smiles that reeks of the force used to hold it up. “Just great. Thanks so much for your help with the dogs.”
He frowns, as if my gratitude pains him. “Maren, I’m your father. Of course I was going to help with the dogs. You don’t need to thank me. Is Harvey giving you any trouble? Don’t lie to me about it.”
My eyes sting. It’s always like this, when Henry is kind, and I don’t know why. Maybe because I have a batshit crazy mother whose only concerns are my weight and my income potential, and no matter what Henry says, I know he owes me nothing. “He’s been kind of a dick,” I admit, mostly to explain the tears in my eyes. “He’s texting a lot, accusing me of stuff…with Charlie.”
Henry narrows one eye and hesitates, as if he thinks I might admit what Harvey’s saying is true. When I’m silent, he lets his hand rest on my shoulder. “I’ll take care of it. You won’t hear from him again.”
I believe him. Henry never says anything he doesn’t mean, and he certainly has the power to make it happen.
My mother breaks up the conversation, hands flailing as she accuses us ofacting like guestsand tells us to go help Roger find houses for the overflow. She then begins to wail about some rare fish the caterer isn’t going to be able to acquire and gets indignant about the song list provided by the band.
I slip out of the house while she’s off to either yell at or seduce the catering manager into giving her what she wants and go into town, simply for a break from the hysteria.
I enter the tiny, overpriced grocer on the corner and have just grabbed a Diet Coke—though I should apparently be buying a sleeping bag, which they don’t sell—when someone calls my name.
I turn to find Andrew, tan and handsome, carrying a six-pack of Sapporo and a minuscule serving of prosciutto. He gives me a one-armed hug. “I had no idea you were in town.”
He says this without reproach. He is not a man who reads into silences or failures to text. He won’t pout and punish when he’s displeased. He’s so much better than Harvey.
“My mother is hosting a surprise engagement party for my sister and her fiancé. I just got in a few hours ago.”
He smiles and holds up the Sapporo. “Me too. Going to my buddy’s house and attempting to be a good guest. I had this whole idea in my head about what I’d bring, but they don’t have half of it so…” He shrugs. “I guess I’m showing up like this.”
A sweetly hapless male looking for a partner, one who won’t assume the favorite grocer in town will be fully stocked on a Saturday in high season.
“So…I assume the party is tonight?” he asks.
I should invite him, I guess, but God, that’d just open up another can of worms. Multiple cans of worms. Half of my mother’s friends would be texting everyone they know in Manhattan to say Andrew and I are a thing, and I’m not ready. “Yes,” I reply. “Just family and some friends.”
“Are you staying around afterward?”
Do I want to see him? I don’t know. Things are already so chaotic. It’s an impossible question to answer under the circumstances.
I nod. “Yeah. I’ll be here for at least another day.”
He gives me a half-smile. “I imagine that you’re pretty busy right now, but could we try to get lunch tomorrow?”
I tell him that sounds great, except itdoesn’t, and I don’tknow why. Wouldn’t ending up with someone like Andrew solve every problem I currently have? When I’m in Oak Bluff with Charlie, I forget the rest of the world exists. But it does, and it’s a world I’m about to return to. I need to figure out how I’ll move forward without the part of it that actually matters—him.
