Page 75 of The Pucker and the Princess
I mull that over, trying to think about what Marissa might want.
And then my phone vibrates with a text alert.
Marissa
God, I wish you could go with me. That’d make it so much easier.
I show Nick the screen, and he grins. “I think you have your answer.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Marissa
I feelsick to my stomach as we drive to the party. The only saving grace is that there are too many of us to all fit in one car, so I at least got to choose whether to ride with my parents, my brother, or my sister. While I love my nephew and think he’s adorable, I wasn’t in the headspace to ride with a toddler, so I opted to go with Gabby and Jonathan in their rental car, which of course Dad had to grouse about over breakfast when they announced one was being delivered. “The three of you can just ride with us,” he’d grumbled.
“Aw, thanks for the offer, Dad,” Gabby said, kissing him on the cheek. “Jonathan can get carsick, though, so him being able to ride up front is essential. And we wouldn’t want to make you or Mom feel uncomfortable in the back seat.”
He’d wound himself up with a response, but she just smiled and left before he could spit it out, leaving me burying myself in my bowl of cereal and hiding my smile. He’d grumbled to himself some more before stalking off.
“We’ve got an exit plan ready to go if we need one for any reason,” Gabby informs me from the driver’s seat, glancing at me in the rear view mirror.
Jonathan turns from his spot in the passenger seat and grins at me. “This is pretty standard for us. If we’re out in public, we always have a signal that means we need to leave now.” He runs two fingers on his right hand across his right eyebrow, then rubs the tip of his nose two times with his thumb. “Did you catch that?”
I raise my eyebrows. “We’re giving each other third-base coach signals?”
Gabby laughs. “Only if you need to escape right away. Show her the one that just means you need rescuing from a conversation.”
“Oh, right. Yeah. That one’s probably more useful tonight.” He runs his hand through his hair, then coughs twice.
My eyebrows climb higher. “What if my head itches and I have to cough?”
He shrugs one shoulder, giving me a lopsided smile. “Then we’ll ride to your rescue.” His smile fades. “Seriously, though. If you’re stuck in a conversation you don’t want to be in, catch our attention and do that, and one of us will come over. We’ll either join the conversation and deflect so you can make a polite escape, or we’ll need you for something. It doesn’t matter what it is, we’ll just help you escape without being rude. And if you need to get out of there entirely, do the first signal”—he repeats the eyebrow and nose thing—“and we’ll have a sudden emergency. And since you’re riding with us, you’ll of course have to leave too.”
I arch an eyebrow at his last assertion. “Except there’s plenty of room for me in two other cars. I’m not sure either of y’all having an emergency will constitute a need for me to leave.”
“Let us worry about the details,” Gabby says. “We’ll make sure to hustle you out of there before anyone can stop us.” She looks at me in the mirror again. “Seriously, Marissa. I know you said you’re fine, but I just don’t believe you. Between Lance and Abby and the two of us, we’re going to do our best to make sure you don’t get cornered anywhere with Peter or his fiancée.”
“Or his parents,” Jonathan adds.
“Right. Or his parents.”
Oh, god. I hadn’t even thought about his parents. I haven’t seen them in years, not since shortly after I broke up with Peter. His mom came to see me, partly trying to convince me to give him another chance, partly commiserating with me because she knew his “proposal” wasn’t very sincere either. “We started to think of you as our daughter-in-law,” she said. “We wanted so much for you and Peter to end up married.”
I wonder what she thinks of his fiancée? Does she like her? Does she compare her to me?Am I a terrible person if I kinda hope she does?
Maybe, but that’s just because Peter left deep wounds. Deeper than I like to admit, even to myself. But apparently even my little sister can tell how much he hurt me. Though apparently my parents can’t. Or they just don’t care.
I tell myself it’s the first one, because I can’t stomach the idea that they wouldn’t care about my pain. It’s nicer to believe that they took me at my word that I was okay, that I’d moved on, that Peter’s choices were no longer my concern.
It does seem shitty to make me go to his engagement party, though, pops up that oh-so-helpful voice in my head.Dozer was right when he said that.
I haven’t returned his call since he tried calling and then texted that he thought it was shitty. It’s been over twenty-four hours now, and I should call him, but I don’t think I can hold myself together if I do. I need to swallow everything down and hold it in until after tonight, and then I can break in private. But with Mom’s insistence that we fit as many Christmastime activities as possible into Gabby and Jonathan’s short visit, I couldn’t call him back last night or today.
I’ll call him after we get back. If it’s getting late, I can just give Jonathan and Gabby the escape signal, and we’ll head home where I can call Dozer and update him on how terrible and tacky this party is.
Except it’s in a gorgeous old house turned event space, so it probably won’t be tacky.
Sighing, I let my head fall back against the headrest and close my eyes.One thing at a time, I tell myself.One thing at a time.
