Page 4 of This Means War

Lydia responds by tossing me a scathing look. “You’re sure, are you? Well, unless you’re some sort of priest, I don’t care about your opinion.”

I know she’s trying to put me down, but honestly, I’m just glad to see she’s gotten some of her spunk back.

My phone dings and even in my distress my eyes automatically flit to the screen. Our flight has been rescheduled for 9:20 this morning. We’ll have to leave for the airport soon.

“Listen,” I try again, “our flight’s been rescheduled. Why don’t we pack up and get to theairport? Have some breakfast? I’m sure this all won’t seem so bad once you’ve eaten, and we’re on our way to Vegas.”

Her face pales. She squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head back and forth a few times. I get the feeling she’s trying to wish, or maybe pray, this whole situation away.

She opens her eyes one at a time, sighing when she sees me still standing there. “Fine,” she hisses, “we’ll go to the airport. But you listen here, Jacobson,” she steps forward, one hand shaking a finger at me, the other clutching the top of her sheet, “I don’t want to see or talk to you this weekend or ever again. Do you understand?”

I nod, even though clearly this can’t actually happen. Sure, this weekend we’re going to separate parties, so we might be able to avoid seeing each other. But in a month we’ll be going to the same wedding. A wedding where she’s a bridesmaid, and I’m a groomsman. I think of Josh and what he would say if he knew what had happened with me and his little sister.

“Don’t worry,” I tell her, “even if I have to walk you up the aisle, I will remain silent.”

Lydia’s mouth forms a line. “Good.” Without another word, she whirls around and stomps to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

Chapter 5

Lydia–One Month Later

“SO, WHEN WILL you be back again?” My roommate, Jamie, pops her head into my room just as I’m sitting on my overstuffed suitcase in order to zip it.

“Late Sunday,” I tell her as I tug the zipper across the teeth.

Jamie nods. “Okay, sounds good.”

I eye her with suspicion. “Jamie,” I say warningly, “you are not allowed to paint anything while I’m gone, okay? I like our wall colors, and we’ll lose more of our security deposit if you paint any more of the cabinets.”

Jamie crosses her arms across her chest with a huff. “Oh please, Stan was such a spoilsport about that! The cabinets looked so much better after I painted them.”

Stan is our building manager, and Jamie painted the cabinets pink. Bright pink. I’d never been happier to hear someone say, “You can’t do that, put it back the way it was.”

“Jamie.” I’m not backing down. If I back down I’ll come home to a bedroom painted fuchsia.

“Okay, okay.” She rolls her eyes. “I won’t paint anything while you’re gone.” It’s her turn to shoot me a suspicious glance. “That suitcase is awfully full, Lydia. There better not be anything of mine in there. Don’t think I didn’t see you furtively dousing my blouse with Shout when you got home from your last trip. I didn’t say anything because you clearly got whatever stain that was off, but I have since adopted a strict ‘no borrowing my clothes’ policy.”

I wince, her words reminding me of that night one month ago. I’ve been very careful to not think about Enemy Number 1 since that morning in the hotel room. I’ve also taken to calling him Enemy Number 1 whenever he does force his way into my brain. I say, if calling some diabolical wizard You-Know-Who, worked for hundreds of witches and wizards in Harry Potter, then calling one diabolical cyborg Enemy Number 1 should work for me.

“Right, sorry about that,” I say quickly to Jamie, slumping off my suitcase as I finally get the zipper all the way around it. “Don’t worry though, I didn’t take any of your clothes. My bridesmaid dress just has a massive skirt.”

“Oh.” Her face falls. “I was kind of hoping you might have changed your mind and stuffed Elliot in there.”

I force a laugh. Elliot Small–a math teacher at Faith Christian, the school newspaper’s advisor, and the coach of the boys’ track and field team–finallyasked me out last week after months of towing the friendship/flirting line. Jamie, who’d been hinting for months that she thought I should ask him to be my plus one at the wedding, threw a fit when she found out I turned him down. I couldn’t tell her the truth. How I’d been about to say yes to dinner with him, until I’d remembered that I am no longer a desirable future wife for a Christian man like Elliot Small. I’m damaged goods. I gave someone the milk before they bought the cow. I have brought shame upon my family. Although that last one was already true, but the point remains; if I had said yes to Elliot and things had eventually gotten serious, I would’ve had to tell him about my now sordid past. So, I said no. I said no to the first cute, funny,Christianguy to ask me out in years. And now I have to go to my brother’s wedding and walk up the aisle with the egotistical guy who ruined my whole life: Enemy Number 1.

“Lydia, you okay?” Jamie peers at me, and I realize I’m scowling.

“I’m fine,” I say quickly. “But sorry, I haven’t changed my mind about Elliot. The timing just isn’t right, okay?”

Jamie sighs, but doesn’t say anything more. She’s moved on, her eyes lingering on my dresser.

“Jamie!” I cry in alarm, though in truth I’m happy for the subject change. “You’re not painting my dresser either.”

Cole

I’m sitting in myrental car outside the church, trying to make myself go in. I’m already five minutes late, and I’m sure Delia is inside about to send out a search brigade if I don’t walk in those doors soon. I rub my bleary eyes, picturing what I’ll say when I see Lydia.

I haven’t gotten a full night’s sleep since I woke up next to her. I lie awake for hours, guilt wracking through my body. The first few days I tried to rationalize the situation, figuring that if I could just prove that I wasn’t to blame, then my guilt would go away. I’m a lawyer, this is what we do.

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