Wife?
“There she is. Come here, sweetie pie, and say hello to Caroline.”
“Hello, Caroline,” the prettiest girl in the world said to me. Blinking, I looked at Mrs. James Brown. Tall, blonde, young. Beyond pretty. She looked really sweet. “I’m Krissy.”
“Of course you are,” I said, then coughed to cover it. “It’s wonderful to meet you. When did you get married?” I asked James. I felt like I was reeling.
“Just a few months ago. We’re newlyweds.” He grinned and tucked her into his side as she giggled. “We met at the club. Her father is a client of mine, and the rest was history.”
“It happened so quickly, it was just like we were supposed to be together, you know? He proposed just three weeks later. Can you believe it?” She giggled again, showing her ring. It looked like a skating rink.
“I really can’t.” I smiled, trying to keep my eyebrows from flying right up into my hairline. Too late.
“Well, when it’s right, it’s right. Right?” James said, and Krissy’s answering laughter was like tiny silver bells. He grinned at her and reached over and patted her belly. Which I now noticed was noticeably round. She laced her fingers through his and they held her perfect little round belly together. Krissy was on the nest. James smiled smugly at me.
“How do you know Jimmy?” she asked.
“Jimmy?” I asked. Eyebrows were officially a lost cause; they were on the back of my head at this point.
“Caroline and I used to date when I was in law school, and then we reconnected when she decorated my apartment last year. How’s that going, by the way?”
“Fine, Jimmy. Great actually,” I said through my teeth.
“Oh, you’re a decorator! I love decorating. I took a class last year all about it. I love that tile you’ve got there. Are you decorating something for a client?” Krissy asked, referring to the black and neon-green geoprint tile I’d inadvertently picked up and was clutching so tightly my knuckles were turning white.
“This? No, just browsing. Actually, I’m looking for myself today. Just bought a house over in Sausalito, so yep. Tile. For my new house.”
“Oh, I love Sausalito! Jimmy and I go there all the time. He takes me over for pancakes sometimes on Sunday mornings.” Krissy giggled.
James looked at me more closely. “You bought a house? In Sausalito? With who?”
I love that he just assumed that it would have to be with someone, that I couldn’t have bought something on my own. The fact that I was years away from being able to afford a house in Sausalito on my own was my own damn business.
“Yes, I bought a house. With Simon, actually. You remember him, don’t you, Jimmy?”
“That neighbor guy?”
“Yes, that neighbor guy.”
“Wow. That’s great, Caroline, really great.”
“Yes.” I nodded firmly. “It is.”
“I’m surprised, though. Not what I expected.”
“What? Why?”
Krissy had stepped away by now; she’d found a shiny tile.
“You used to tell me no way were you going to live in the suburbs. Never going to settle down,” he said.
“I’m not settling down, and for God’s sake, Sausalito isn’t the suburbs,” I snapped, and his eyes danced. He always liked to stir me up. “I’ll have you know I’m not settling at all—it’s an amazing house. I love it; it’s exactly what I always wanted.”
“I didn’t say settling; you did. I said settling down. And really, all I’m saying is you used to say you never wanted—”
“James, shut up!” I said, my face boiling hot at this point. Krissy was prancing back over, and I needed to get out of here. “Congratulations on getting married and everything, and good luck with your tile.” I whirled around and ran right into a sales guy.
Throwing back my shoulders, I apologized, then said in a clear voice, “My boyfriend likes to fuck my brains out on our kitchen island. Which tile would you recommend for that?”
God bless him, the guy actually showed me some.
? ? ?
Turns out I was glad for the convertible, because the trail I blazed back over the bridge to non-fucking-suburban Sausalito was infinitely better in a high-performance automobile. Barreling across the bay in a clunky delivery van wouldn’t have cut nearly as dramatic a silhouette on the Golden Gate Bridge. Revving the engine as I cut down the tiny streets, I whizzed up onto our street and peeled into the driveway. I got out and slammed the door.
“Caroline?” Simon called out, and I turned. He was standing at the edge of the yard, chatting with Ruth from next door. The neighbor who gave us the keys when we first saw the house.