“I could use some air,” he mumbles. “So I’ll just go.”
“Coward,” Shannon says with a chortle.
He clears his throat meaningfully. “I prefer the term ninja.” A swift peck on the cheek and a flick of the wrist and Declan’s out the door before she can argue.
Smart man. All the IQ points must have gone into him and his older brother, Terry. Andrew was left with a hot ass, that sultry grin, and a coal-covered soul that whispers evil sweet nothings to his conscience.
Kiss her in the closet in your office, it says. Kiss her in the hospital closet, it murmurs. Kiss her to shut her up, it hisses.
Bet it wasn’t expecting my little slap.
“I should feel triumphant,” I whimper as Marie rushes over, glass of white wine in hand, offering it to my lips like she’s a priest giving First Communion. “I stood up for myself. I made it clear in no uncertain terms that I am not a woman to be trifled with.”
“And it only took you two years,” Marie says, nodding. I guess that’s supposed to be comforting. Marie can be kind of hit-or-miss like that.
“And three kisses!” I groan between guzzles of white Zin.
Shannon does a double take. “Three? There was a third incident?” She scrunches up her face, making her cute little rabbit nose poke out. “When did you—”
“Was it that time Jason and I saw you at the hospital during Poopwatch?” Marie asks. She’s wearing this gorgeous, flowing lilac silk wrap and her eyelashes are so long it looks like she contracted them out to an asphalt company. She leans forward on the counter between the kitchen and the living room, eyes wide and fascinated.
Shannon gives me a deadly stare. “You made out with Andrew while I was in the emergency room choking to death?”
Busted.
And then she turns on Marie. “And quit calling it Poopwatch.”
“Honey, that’s what everyone calls it.”
“No, Mom, that’s what Jessica Coffin called it.” Shannon frowns. “Wait. You just used the present tense. Calls. Not called. She’s still making fun of my...of the...of you know—”
“Poopwatch,” Marie and I say in unison.
Her hands go up in the air in a show of exasperation. Either that, or she’s turned into a gospel singer. “That’s not funny!” Jessica briefly dated Shannon’s ex, Steve, and had the hots for Declan. As a trend setter in the Boston social scene, Jessica’s tweets can make or break a restaurant, though she has lost some of her power. Humiliating Shannon online seems to be Jessica’s favorite hobby.
Marie and I look at each other and burst into giggles. We can’t help it, even though we shouldn’t. Marie places one perfectly manicured hand on Shannon’s shoulder, her fingernails a deep purple with a lilac tip.
“Poopwatch will never, ever not be funny, honey.”
Shannon’s eyes narrow like she’s at the OK Corral and ready for a showdown. “You have one word that pushes my buttons. I have one for you.”
Marie laughs even harder.
“Elope.”
Marie stops laughing and blanches.
“You wouldn’t!”
“Try me.”
“But honey, Poopwatch is—”
“Elope!”
Marie’s mouth tightens like a drawstring pouch. Her nostrils flare. Her eyes go small and she looks like one of those apples carved and dried to look like a shrunken head.
Except one with the smooth, shiny forehead of a Botoxed woman.
“Fine,” Marie says with a sigh. “No more Poopwatch jokes.” She reaches for a To Do list with a mad rush of scribbles and cross-outs, additions and arrows. “Does that include the pre-reception slide show?”
“WHAT? What on earth would you have in a slideshow about my...about the ring getting caught in my...about Poopwatch?” Shannon screeches.
Marie smirks. “Gotcha to say the word.”
“Elope.”
Marie’s face falls.
“And you know Declan will jump at the chance if I even whisper that word once,” Shannon adds.
“I don’t know what to do with you!” Marie says with a sniff, playing the wounded mom. “You’re so selfish that you won’t have a bridal shower—”
“Selfish? I asked everyone to donate to charity in lieu of gifts and a shower, Mom!”
“—and now you’re joking about elopement. It’s as if you don’t want a big, fancy society wedding with all the glamour and mystique and thousands of eyes on you.”
“I don’t! That’s the point!” I can see Shannon’s getting wound up in a way that only Marie can wind that key in her back.
Marie turns to me and, as if it weren’t at all a non sequitur, asks, “Andrew is stringing you along again?”
I burst into tears.
Marie is a pro. Shannon’s so outclassed.
“I slapped the CE—, er, a major client! Greg is going to explode when he learns what I just did to Andrew!” I wail, my tears curling down my jawline as I shove a cookie from a tray that Marie made into my mouth.
That’s it. I am done. He has firmly taken every cell of my body, melted it, turned it to dust and shaken it so hard I am now just particles on the wind, clinging wherever I land.
“Greg?” Marie and Shannon exchange a look, then burst into laughter. “Your boss?”
“Honey, Greg doesn’t explode,” Shannon says with a quiet mirth. “He’ll just bumble along and say nothing about it. Besides, Andrew kissed you without your permission.”