Page 37 of Sweet Nothings

“Why did you ask me to meet you here?” Roe scrunches her nose and reads the bright, white sign hanging above the door behind me.

I try not to focus on the way her skin has paled since the last time I saw her in my apartment. Unlike then, her hair cascades across her shoulders, her loose curls framing her thin face. Without thought, my gaze falls to her chest where her chemo port is now connected, the silhouette of the small square visible under her black T-shirt.

Roe’s dark eyebrows are knitted as she lowers her gaze from the sign to me, but her eyebrows move from confusion, arching into realization.

“Laurel…” She says my name so quietly, it can barely be heard over the heavy flow of traffic behind her. Her eyes dance back and forth between me and the sign. “This is a bridal shop, Laurel.”

“Yep.” I nod, with a closed mouth grin. I cross my arms and move to stand beside her, joining her in looking at the sign. “You’re going to help me pick my wedding dress.”

“What?” This time her voice is loud enough to be heard over Boston traffic. She turns and latches onto my arm. Squeezingher fingers tightly, she forces me to face her. “What do you meanyour wedding dress? You’re getting married?”

“Yes.” I nod and shrug my shoulders. I’m suddenly nervous telling Roe about the wedding. “I’m getting married... in five days.”

“Five days?” she booms, her eyes practically bugging out of her sullen face.

“Yes.” I bite down on my bottom lip, shrinking further. I’m worried she’s going to be angry with me. I tell myself she can’t possibly when the reason I agreed to marry is to ensure my savings are available for her treatments should she need it. Excitement bubbles in my chest as I pull the white, shimmering envelope from my purse and hold it out to Roe.

Her eyes widen as she takes it from me. “I don’t understand,” she says, ripping it open. She isn’t gentle, not wasting any time to learn the details of my sudden impending nuptials.

“The invitation explains it all.” I scratch the back of my head. My sister’s opinion has always meant the most to me. Even if we might be competitive, and even when I feel her opinions aren’t warranted, I still value them. I’ve worked out how to tell Roe I’m marrying Lennon by the end of the week. Ultimately, I’ve decided to wing it. Sometimes the best strategy is to go into these types of situations without a strategy.

Roe doesn’t break her attention away from the invitation when she slides it out of the envelope. She turns it over and runs her fingers over the embossed black, purple, and red flowered border. What feels like hours but is probably only seconds pass by as she reads the black and gold lettered script printed in the middle.

“Oh, my God,”she breathes as she slowly and finally looks up from the invitation. “You’re marrying Lennon Harding?TheLennon Harding?”

I nod, the words getting stuck somewhere between my heart and my throat. I open my mouth, but all I can do is hold my breath, anticipating my sister’s reaction. My chest moves. I’m breathing but words fail me.

“Let me see the ring,” she squeals, grabbing for my hand. She flips it over, her face falling when she sees it’s empty.

I cover my hand and take in a shaky, nervous breath. “I don’t have it yet. Lennon said he’s taking care of it.”

“Okay.” She frowns, disappointed.

“It’s not a big deal.” I casually wave her off.

“When did you start dating Lennon?” She’s looking past me as if she’s mentally searching for a time when I would have mentioned dating Lennon. She catches on quickly, finding the answer. “Why didn’t you tell me? How could you keep this from me?”

Hurt and sadness flash across her face. I want to wrap my arms around her, but I don’t. She deserves an explanation—one I’m hoping will make sense and not make it sound like I’m making a huge mistake.

“Um.” My ability to speak returns. “We haven’t really been dating. We’ve only been engaged for a couple of weeks.”

“Wait.” She places her hand on her forehead, still looking down at the invitation. “You’ve been engaged for a couple of weeks, and you didn’t bother telling me? This is huge, Laurel.” Her watery gaze shoots straight for my heart. “Especially since I was telling you to go for him at the funeral. Is that why you were so against it? Because you didn’t want me to know?”

“No.” I shake my head, wrapping my hand around hers. “Not at all. I didn’t know he was going to propose then, and we weren’t dating yet, either.”

“Hold on.” She laughs but there’s no humor behind it. “You weren’t dating then? Laurel, the funeral was less than a month ago. Are you insane?”

“I know it was.” I can’t explain it, but the need to defend mine and Lennon’s engagement kicks in. I’m aware Roe doesn’t know all the details or know that, although my marriage to Lennon is strictly business, marrying him won’t be the worst mistake I’ll ever make. No, my marriage to David is still strongly holding first place in that race.

“Do you even really know him? I mean, besides the wonderful things you had to say about him and his family at his father’s funeral.”

She’s resorted to sarcasm. I ignore her comment, my non-strategy strategy finally kicking in. I’m diving headfirst into the truth.

“More than you think,” I confess. The floodgates have opened. “I first met him on our nineteenth birthday.”

“Nineteenth birthday?” Her eyebrows knit.

“He was a friend of the guy you were dating from Boston College. Lennon was sitting with their group that night,” I explain. I can tell she’s trying to remember which guy it was she was dating at the time. “After you and your date went out on the dance floor, I left. I was waiting for my ride outside the club when I accidently got into the wrong car. Lennon’s car. After an embarrassing exchange, he offered to give me a ride home.”

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