Page 373 of The First Time
Chapter Thirty
Lizzy is not happy about this dinner.
Or about my continuing arrangement with Blake.
Or how I'm "lying to myself."
She spends the afternoon in her room making alternating claims of doing homework and picking out an outfit.
I knock at five. It's at least half an hour on the subway to Midtown. I don't want to make it harder for her by taking a cab.
My jaw drops as she pulls the door open. She looks so pretty. So grown up.
Her hair is swept into an elegant updo. Her makeup is soft and subtle. Her chic black dress suits her perfectly.
"You look beautiful," I say.
"Thanks. You too." She reaches for her purse. "Should we go?"
"In a minute." I take a long look at my sister. We've barely talked since the fight at the boutique. I miss her. I miss having camaraderie.
I check my phone for word from Blake.
There are a few days ofsweet dreamstexts. And there's a reminder with the restaurant's address. That's it.
Maybe he doesn't want me. I don't know. It's confusing.
I throw my sketchbook in my purse. It's a new habit. In case inspiration strikes. I still have a lot of work to do for my portfolio.
"Listen, Kat." Lizzy looks at her foot. Presses it into the ground. "Never mind. We should talk about it later."
"You sure?"
"Yeah, totally." She pulls the door open. "About the other day… I know I should have—"
"It's okay. I understand."
I follow her out the door.
* * *
The restaurant is beautiful.Romantic.
Black walls. Flickering candles. Roses bouquets.
It's the perfect place for a date. Or a proposal. Or a declaration of undying love.
It's perfect for a panel. The happy moment where the couple falls in love or the miserable one where everything falls apart.
I swallow the lump that rises in my throat. There's only a week until Blake and I marry.
In one week, I'll be the wife of a man who will never love me.
It feels more real every day.
The hostess leads us to a private room in the back of the restaurant. It's just as romantic, though it's brighter. Ornate lamps in the corner offer plenty of illumination.
Meryl is sitting at the end of the table, nursing a glass of wine.
