Page 42 of Feels Like the First Time
“No point.” Bridget took a sip of her coffee. “After the other night, we decided to move the wedding to Florida.”
“After the other night?What does that even mean?” Ali said, her head spinning from the whiplash of being blindsided. Her heart was suffocating under the weight of her guilt. Because she was pretty sure she knew exactly what it meant.
“It just wasn’t our kind of scene,” Bridget said, taking a serene sip from her mug and confirming Ali’s fears. Her sister wasn’t moving the wedding to Florida to please Jamie’s parents, she was doing it to get back at Ali because of the kiss.
Only it wasn’t Ali who would suffer, it would be Marty.
“Right, because when I think of yourdreamwedding, I think pink flamingos and muumuus.” Ali took a deep breath, tried to calm the anger surging through her body. It didn’t work. “Wow, in that humidity, your hair will frizz like a Q-tip.”
“So I’ll wear it up,” Bridget said, smoothing out her cuticle. “It’s closer to our honeymoon destination, and will be easier for Jamie’s family.”
“But it will be harder on Dad.”
Bridget’s hands stopped, and Ali saw her hesitate, but as quickly as she’d considered the option, she dismissed it.
“It’s a six-hour flight,” Bridget said, as if six hours were no big deal for a man who hadn’t so much as driven to Seattle in a year. “He will be fine. Plus Jamie’s parents already offered to let him use one of their guest rooms.”
“And will they be so accommodating if he has to go to the hospital because he isn’t sleeping well in the heat?”
“How do you know what is best for him?” Bridget challenged. “Maybe a chance to get away from all of the smothering that goes on here would do him some good. You’re worse than Mom sometimes.”
Ali’s heart thumped so hard against her rib cage, it physically forced her to take a step back. Is that really how people saw her…as smothering and controlling?
Everything she’d done for her dad this past year, done for him since their mom had left, had been out of love. At times, she’d even put her life on hold to make sure their small family remained mighty.
“I guess I never thought that me loving Dad was holding him back from experiencing other kinds of love,” Ali deadpanned.
“All I meant is that you don’t have exclusive rights on Dad,” Bridget said, regret softening her words, but it was too late. Softening the truth never softened the blow. “Other people love him, too. I’m not asking you to stop being you, just back off a little so he can share moments with the rest of us.”
“Well, thank God you aren’t asking me to give up being smothering and controlling, I don’t know if people would recognize me,” Ali said, wondering why she was always the one who had to share. She’d been receiving leftovers for years, and was starting to wonder if maybe, for some people, that was just how life went.
“I do love to see you two talking and being sisterly, but the chill in the air is making the eggs cold,” Loraine said as if she were a daily domestic goddess and doling out quality family bonding time was her superpower. Then she looked Bridget up and down. “You can have a few slices of my bacon, but don’t get greedy.” Loraine looked at Ali. “It’s the skinny ones you always have to look out for. Now sit. Both of you.”
“No thanks.” Ali grabbed a single slice and headed toward the fridge. “I think I’ve had enough sisterly bonding for today. I’m just here to bring Dad some groceries and check for chocolate contraband. Then I’ll get out of the way so you can get your daddy-daughter time in, and I can get to my meeting.”
Which was between her, the Pacific Ocean, and a paddleboard. A strict no family, no drama kind of event.
“You’ll miss the celebration,” Loraine said, placing a big plate of eggs on the table.
“We already did that. Two nights ago,” Ali said, quickly putting the groceries away, relieved to find that Marty hadn’t filled the fridge with off-limits foods. “Big party. The groom arrived in golf gear. The bride still said yes. I have pictures if you want to see.”
“It was croquet knickers,” Bridget defended, as ifthatmade it manlier. “And he’d just come from a game with some business associates.”
“Never trust a man in knickers,” Loraine said. “Shelly Lynch, from over on Tenth Street, caught her husband in a pair of knickers. The next thing she knew, her lipstick was disappearing, and when she kicked him out, she was missing her favorite pumps.”
“You can take your bacon to go, too,” Bridget said, pointing to the door. “I’m sure people are waiting to get their mail.”
“Mail! I nearly forgot. This came for you.” Loraine reached into her purse and pulled out an envelope.
It was white, contract-size, had a green note attached to it with the United States Postal Service logo at the top, followed by Ali’s name, and a line for a signature.
“Oh my God!” Ali snatched the envelope. “It’s fromArchitectural Digest?”
“Signature required,” Loraine beamed. “I brought it by your shop earlier, but you didn’t answer.” She had been taking out her frustrations on a piece of steel. “And since signing for you was illegal, I just stuck it in my purse.”
“It could be nothing,” Ali said, knowing that the only reason they’d send a package with a signature was if they needed permission from an artist.
Bridget gave an apologetic smile. “Or it could be something. Open it, Ali.”
