Kate’s eyes followed mine, and then fastened on my hand, the engagement ring still perched there and sparkling away.“Is there something you want to tell me? And do you maybe also want to tell me why you couldn’t have told me it last night, or when we went out for drinks, or any freaking timewe talked in the last week?”
Where the hell to begin? I avoided even thinking about trying to untangle last night’s events for Kate’s benefit by casting an eye over the sea of newsprint Kate had dumped on my floor.
Splashed across the pages were photos of me with my mouth making a perfect‘o’of surprise, photos of Grant gazing into my eyes in an impressive pretense of adoration, photos of us both with our arms around each other, smiling like we had just stepped out of a fairy tale. PLAYBOY POPS THE QUESTION, one headline blared. ONE GALA NIGHT WE WON’T FORGET, insisted another. WHO IS THIS LUCKY LADY, wondered a third.“Did you rob a paperboy? Where did you even get all of these?”
“The pharmacy next to the bodega by my place, and don’t change the subject,”Kate answered promptly.“I got them after I heard about it on the radio when my alarm went off this morning, and after I heard three little old ladies and a teenage girl gossiping about it at the bus stop. Lacey! You did not say anything about this at drinks! You said basically the opposite of this when we went for drinks! You cannot go around saying the opposite of things you are going to do or I will know you are not Lacey Newman, and I will have to hold you hostage until you confess to being a Russian spy who has replaced Lacey in order to inveigle your way into my confidence and steal my lingerie designs.”
This was a long spiel even for Kate, and I could see in the way that she was rushing through her words that despite her bubbly, silly tone, she was trying not to show that she was hurt.
“Seriously, girl, I know my designs would do wonders for the Russian morale in this economic downturn, but you couldn’t say anything to your best friend? Even last night?”
“I didn’t know last night!”I hastily reassured her.“I swear, if I’d known anything about what that jackass had up his hand-tailored sleeve, I’d have been in that taxi to you in two seconds flat. He sprung this on me last night. It’s his idea of listening to my advice about PR.”
“Wow.”Kate took a second to process this.“Does he maybe want to look up ‘listening’ in a dictionary or something?”
“Tell me about it,”I sighed. I reached out and squeezed her hand.“I should have called you again when I got home from the gala. I didn’t think. I’m sorry.”
“Oh, apology accepted!”Kate said, and hugged me tight.“Just make up for lost time and spill. How are you doing with all this? How do you feel? Are you going to go through with it? Can I look at the ring up close?”
The last question was by far the easiest to answer, and I slid it off my finger for Kate to inspect. She oohed and aahed over it as she turned it over in her hands, and I contemplated again the headlines on all the local papers strewn over the floor— All the local papers strewn over the floor— All the local papers— “Oh shit,”I said out loud, interrupting Kate’s monologue about Grant’s excellent taste in choosing the round brilliant cut over the more trendy rose cut, which she personally felt was only an excuse to sell oddly shaped gems.“Kate, you said you heard people gossiping about this? Did you—is my family—does everyoneknow?”
“Er—”Kate’s eyes darted to the side.
As if to spare Kate from having to answer, my phone buzzed loudly enough that I could hear the vibrations through the purse on the other side of the room.
With a‘you have not gotten out of this that easily’mock glare at Kate, I ran to check the display and gaped. Sixty-two messages?! This poor little bargain basement cell had never worked so hard in its whole life. I scrolled through them, my eyes widening and my mouth slowly dropping in disbelief at their sheer quantity. ‘Congratulations, girl!’ ‘Sweetie, what good news! Call me so I can set you up with my favorite florist. Love, G-Ma!’ ‘Whoa!’ ‘Hey, babe, saw the news and I know you can’t really want that prick. Hit me up for some hot times.’ ‘Lacey, is this a joke?! Call me.’
And then, still buzzing like a kid on espresso with a chaser of caffeine pills, my phone started to ring. Worse yet, the ringtone was‘Imagine’ by John Lennon, the ringtone I had specifically chosen for my mom. I groaned.
“You gotta face her sometime,”Kate pointed out.“Besides, what are the odds she knows? Don’t your parents only read news printed with organic walnut ink on locally sourced hemp paper?”
“We can but hope,” I said, and took the call.