Page 23 of Dearly Unbeloved
“Oh wow, that’s gorgeous! Let’s see it up close—yours too, Rose!”
We both hold out our hands, and I try not to cringe as everyone touches mine, turning it here, there, and everywhere, so the diamond on my finger catches the light.
“You have to tell us everything,” Jenna says, leading us to one of the picnic tables. “How did you meet? When did you get engaged? What was the wedding like?”
Sierra leans on the table, resting her head on her hand. “I’m actually Rose’s sister’s assistant, and she introduced us when Rose was looking for a new roommate. We moved in together a few weeks later.”
“Aww, how sweet. Was it love at first sight?”
Sierra chuckles, batting her eyelashes and flashing a bashful smile. Who the fuck is she? “More like love at firstfight,” she says. “We didn’t get along at first, did we, honey?”
I swallow. Deep breaths. If Sierra can do this, I sure ashell can. “You could say there were some adjustment issues when we first moved in together,” I admit, winding my arm around her shoulders and hoping it looks smooth. Sierra snuggles into my side, and she smells pretty good. Like sugared violets. I need to find out what shampoo she uses—there are like twenty empty bottles in the bathroom at home.
“But the more time we spent together, the more we realized how much we have in common,” I continue. Sierra looks up at me with a sweet smile, but I’ve spent enough time around her to notice that it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Once we noticed that, there was no going back. I knew she was going to be my wife someday.”
“You guys are adorable.” I barely notice who said it. It’s been twenty minutes and I’m already exhausted. Sierra must see it in my eyes, because she looks away and changes the subject.
“Kayleigh, Rose tells me you’re from England? My brother’s partner, Rylan, is from Brighton. Where are you from?”
I sit back and let her take the reins, wondering how the hell I’m supposed to maintain this for the next three months. It doesn’t feel so bad here when Sierra is directing the conversation. Nothing seems to rattle her.
Until Richard, an asshole technician who works in the same lab as me, appears, that is. I hate him. He’s loud and makes jokes that aren’t appropriate for the twenty-first century, let alone a workplace. And I completely forgot to warn Sierra.
“Where are you from, Sierra?” Richard asks. From anyone else, the question would feel like politesmall talk. But I can tell Sierra recognizes where this is going without me needing to warn her by her slow intake of breath.
“I was born in Washington, but my dad’s Canadian, so we lived in Toronto for a good part of my childhood,” she replies. She sounds breezy, even if her hold on my waist tightens.
“Right, right. But where are you really from?”
There it is. I open my mouth, but Sierra squeezes my waist, so I bite my tongue.
“Specifically, I was born in Yakima. My parents lived there for a few years before they had me.”
Richard frowns. “Oh, yeah, but I meant?—”
“We all know what you meant, Richard,” I snap before I can stop myself, and several surprised faces turn my way. I take a sharp breath. “Either ask outright, or let it go.”
Sierra looks a little stunned at my outburst, but she recovers quickly. “Rosie can be a little protective of me sometimes. I assume you were wondering about my ethnicity?”
Richard’s face is bright red, and I expect he’s not used to being called on his bullshit—by a woman, no less. “Yes,” he practically mumbles.
“My dad’s second-generation Japanese Canadian. His parents moved from Nagoya to Calgary in the ’50s. My mom’s from Washington, but her family is German and Dutch.” Sierra’s answer sounds rehearsed. How many times has she been asked the same thing, the same way? I know she loves talking about her heritage, but it has to feel really shitty when people constantly dance around it like that.
And based on the unhappy looks Richard is getting, I’mnot the only one who’s noticed it. Lisa clears her throat, dropping onto the bench opposite us.
“Have you visited Japan? I’ve always wanted to go. It looks incredible.”
“It is,” Sierra says, her face lighting up. “We went a few times when I was a kid, but it’s been a while. I’m not big on flying, and it’s a big trip. Still, I’d like to take Rosie someday. I always dreamed of getting to take my wife to visit the places my grandparents talked about.”
She has a wistful expression on her face when she talks about it, and I imagine her taking her wife one day—her actual wife, not me. For the second time today, I feel a sharp pain in my chest.
12
SIERRA
You realize the sink isn’t a storage space for your dirty dishes, right? - R
P.S. 81 days
