Page 51 of Kiss My Glass
I’ve talked about my fears before, of being vulnerable, of being rejected. But my greatest fear is being forced to be someone other than my true self. And I would have to make so many compromises to fit in Danny’s life. His family might have accepted Shelby but I am a whole different ball game. Shelby wins even the most curmudgeonly people over because she’s relentlessly positive like Dad, whereas I tend to be cautious and suspicious and keep my distance.
And despite the fact she makes no effort at all, Shelby fits society’s conventions about attractiveness. She and Nate were the picture-perfect couple on their wedding day, like they might as well have been standing on the cake. Danny likes to look good, and he cares what people think of him. It’s possible that how I look and who I am might not measure up. And I refuse to be with someone whose life pressures mean they can’t accept everything about me. That they can’t recognize and honor my whole true self.
Danny noticed I was quiet on the drive back, but I told him I was thinking about what was involved with the crush. We sat with Nate and Shelby, ate our burgers, made jokes about the effects of spicy pickle. Danny was surprisingly low key about the sale of the Rolls, and now he’s off completing paperwork and I’m trying to focus on Lorelai and Rory.
“We should watchThe Lost Boysmovie,” I say. “Lorelai’s dad is the head vampire in it.”
“Ew no!” Shelby protests. “I can barely cope with the scary bits inGhostbusters!”
I laugh. “There are no scary bits inGhostbusters.”
“My point exactly!” says Shelby.
“Weirdo.”
“You’rea weirdo.”
Nate’s in the kitchen doing … something.
“Settle down, you two!” he calls out.
“Weirdo,” whispers Shelby. “And you can’t hit me! I’m an invalid!”
I might have lifted up a cushion.
“Don’t make me come in there!” calls Nate.
Shelby and I exchange a grin and settle down to watchGilmore Girls. Rory’s in a bad mood. Luke’s offering her pie.
“Does Luke remind you of Cam?” Shelby says.
“Apart from the flannel shirts, absolutely not,” I reply. “Cam would never run a diner, for one. He’d have to talk to more than one person a month.”
Shelby goes quiet. Too quiet. Something’s bothering her.
“What’s up?” I demand. “Spit it out.”
My sister screws up her face apologetically. “Cam thinks I should tell Mom right now about the pre-eclampsia. He says the baby’s birth will be more important to her than any pilgrimage, and because there’s a strong chance the baby will come early, I shouldn’t risk leaving it too late to tell her in case she can’t organize her travel back home in time.”
I don’t know why, but I’m suddenly furious. That’s not Shelby’s fault, so I take a deep breath before answering.
“Cam’s an expert on Mom now, is he?”
Not deep enough. I sound very snippy. “Sorry,” I mutter, ungraciously.
“It’s okay,” says Shelby. “I was cross at him, too.”
“You were?” Shelby being cross comes round about as frequently as Halley’s comet.
“Because I felt bad because he’s right. I’ve been super selfish,” says Shelby. “I’ve been using the importance of Mom’s trip as an excuse to put off telling her because I hate feeling bad about her feeling bad whenever she’s at the winery. But that’s my issue to deal with and I shouldn’t make it Mom’s problem, too. She deserves better.”
Unraveled, it’s a fair point. “So, you’ll tell her?”
On the TV, Lorelai and her mother are having a to-and-fro. Our mom is not the kind of person you to-and-fro with. She’s the kind who makes you herbal tea and threatens to read your aura.
“That’s what I’m worried about: I’m not sure how to tell her!” says Shelby. “She hasn’t got her phone with her, and she didn’t leave me a copy of her itinerary. This was meant to be a proper pilgrimage, with no outside distractions.”
“Did she leave an itinerary with Cam?” I’m back to being snippy.
