Page 50 of My Ex-Best Friend's Wedding

There’s a moment of hesitation. Then she says, “I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news.”

And just like that I go from never wanting to see my mother again to a litany of worst-case imaginings. She’s overdosed. Been in an accident. Dropped dead from a heart attack. “What is it? What’s happened?”

Spencer sits up. His eyes are on me as he tries to pinpoint the source of the panic that has turned my voice shrill.

“I’m glad I caught you.”

I hold my breath.

“There’s been an accident.”

“Oh my God.” My head is spinning. There’s not enough air in the car. “What, what’s happened?” I swallow. “It’s not fatal, is it?” My mind races through the plot points. Mother and daughter have a huge fight after which one of them dies, leaving the other forever bereft and guilty for not trying to repair the relationship in time. “Please tell me no one died. Should I go straight to the hospital? Do you want me to call a specialist?”

There’s another pause. Then Dee says, “Only if that specialist is a plumber.”

I notice the red light and barely mash on the brakes in time. “Did... did you say ‘plumber’?”

“Yes. Not five minutes after the cleaning crew finished in the Sandpiper room we discovered that a pipe’s been leaking in the wall. The wall is now ripped open and we’re trying to get things cleaned up, but the room’s not habitable and probably won’t be for a couple days.”

“But...”

“I’m sorry, Lauren. I know you were keen to move over today. I called around again but there’s a family reunion coming in tonight for the rest of the week. When are you heading back to New York?”

“Friday morning.”

“I’m sure your mother would be glad to have you both...”

“No.”

There’s another silence. I feel Spencer’s eyes on my face.

I’m shaking now with nerves and anger. “And if this is some attempt to get me to go back to her place... or force Bree and me to spend more time with each other...”

“I’ve always been fascinated by how your mind works. But this is not some elaborate plot or even a stab at fiction,” Dee says in a tired but wry tone. “It’s just plumbing.”

Heat rises to my cheeks as I end the call.

“Everybody okay?” Spencer asks as, with a shaky hand, I set the phone on the seat.

“It appears so.” I feel like a car that went from zero to one hundred in less than sixty seconds, sprang out of control, then somehow didn’t crash.

“So the plumbing will recover?”

I turn to meet his eyes. They’re dancing.

“I’m glad you find this amusing. It looks like we’re going to have to go back to Bree’s.” I snap the words out, but I’m beyond glad he’s with me.

“Should we call first and make sure it’s okay?”

I barely think about this, which, given everything that’s taken place between Bree and me, is a pleasant surprise. I know without hesitation that Bree won’t mind if we stay longer. “No, Bree’ll be at the store until six anyway. And I think she mentioned that Lily has some after-school thing, so it’s not like we’ll be in the way.”

“Do we need to stop and get a key from...” He stops mid-sentence. “Never mind. I forgot the come-on-in-and-take-anything-that-looks-interesting welcome mat is always out.”

I take a right and then a left on Wingina. Clay’s truck is parked in its usual spot, but the house looks quiet. We clomp across the front porch with our suitcases and carry them inside.

“I’ll just run them up.” Spencer hefts both suitcases and moves toward the stairs. Footsteps sound on the landing. It’s Clay. His hair is still damp as if he’s just out of the shower. He’s looking down, buttoning his shirt as he takes the first step. The surprise on his face when he glances up and sees us is comical. Or would be if the blonde behind him, who also appears freshly showered and not quite dressed, was Brianna.

Clay’s face goes white, but there’s an unattractive smirk on the blonde’s otherwise attractive face.

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