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CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Marissa

I feel sick 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.

Gabby parks the car, and we all climb out, pausing for a second to take in the impressive white house with its columns and grand entry, tasteful landscaping that doesn’t need large amounts of water to maintain, and flood lights casting a glow all around the house and grounds.

Jonathan lets out a low whistle. “This is pretty fancy for an engagement party. Are you sure they aren’t getting married tonight?”

Those words hit me like a punch to the gut. Wouldn’t that be the worst? What if it were some kind of bait and switch? Would Mom do that to me if she knew?

Swallowing the bile rising in my throat, I shake my head. “Her family must be the type that wants this.” My voice sounds hoarse, and I clear my throat, ignoring the concerned look Gabby exchanges with Jonathan and then turns on me.

“We can fake the emergency now,” she offers. “I still think it’s shit that Mom and Dad are making you do this. You haven’t had your appendix out, right? You could say you think you have appendicitis.”

I arch an eyebrow at her. “And just go home? Or are you planning to take me to the ER for them to run tests we know are bogus?”

She shrugs, unconcerned. “Well, we’d for sure go to the ER. But just to say we did. Then we can say they said you were fine and sent you home.”

Laughing, I shake my head. “Keep coming up with ideas. For now, though, we should probably go inside. I’m pretty sure Mom’s texting me to see what’s taking us so long.”

But when I glance at my phone, it’s not my mom. It’s Dozer.

Dozer

Call me please. Right away.

Panic seizes me, my already frayed nerves on high alert and immediately making me think the worst. Holding up a finger, I quickly hit Dozer’s name and press the phone to my ear.

“Maybe she’ll have her own emergency that we don’t have to make up,” Gabby murmurs, and if anything, that just drives my panic higher.

Every ring of the phone feels like an eternity, but Dozer finally answers on the third ring. “Dozer?” I say almost before he says anything. “What’s going on? Are you okay? Are you hurt? What happened?”

“Whoa, whoa. I’m fine. Everything’s fine,” he says in a soothing voice.

I swallow down my panic, sucking in deep breaths, my brow furrowing as I try to make sense of what’s going on. “You texted to call you right away. Why would?—”

His low groan cuts me off. “I’m sorry. God, I’m an idiot. Of course you thought something terrible is happening. No, it’s just, I uh …”

In the gulf of hesitation, I want to scream, “Spit it out!” but I reel myself in and try to wait.

“I just, well, are you at the engagement party?”

“Uh, yeah? I mean, we just parked but we’re about to walk in. Why?” My voice drips with suspicion.

“How serious were you when you said that you wished I could be there.”

An unhinged laugh leaps out of me. “What? I mean, you’d make a great shield to be honest. But I could never?—”

“What’s the address?”

“Uh, it’s at the Gardiner Mansion in Plano. I’m not sure the exact address, but if you search it on a map, it’ll come up.”

“Perfect. Thank you. I’ll be there in … well, I’ll be there. See you soon.”

“Wait, what? Dozer?”

But he’s gone, the call ended, and I’m not quite sure what just happened.

“Who was that?” Gabby asks. “Is everything okay?”

“Uh, yes? I think. I mean, yeah, everything is fine.”

She lets out a relieved breath, and Jonathan gives me an encouraging smile. “Good. Whew. I was a little worried when you suddenly stopped and made a phone call like that. You looked like you’d just gotten news that your house was on fire or something.”

I shake my head, staring down at my phone, trying to make sense of what just happened. “No. As far as I’m aware, my condo building is fine. That was Dozer. He texted to call him right away, so I did. I thought …” Pressing my lips together, I shake my head and look at Gabby and Jonathan, forcing a smile. “Well, with a text like that, I thought the worst, like maybe my condo was on fire.” Or that something had happened to Dozer. He’d gotten in a fight and got hurt. When I was reading about fighting in hockey, I found an article about a guy who got punched from behind and ended up with a broken neck. Even though I know that was decades ago and is definitely rare, ever since reading about it, part of me worries something like that might happen to Dozer.

“Anyway, he wanted to know where the party was, and he said …” I trail off, his final words echoing in my ears.

“What’d he say?” Gabby prompts.

I shake my head again. “He said, ‘See you soon.’”

Gabby raises her eyebrows and exchanges a look with Jonathan, but they don’t seem to have any more insight than I do.

When my phone vibrates in my hand again, I look at it immediately, hoping it’s Dozer with more explanation. But this time it really is Mom.

“We better get in there,” Gabby says, sounding as resigned as I feel. “Don’t forget the signals.” Looping her arm through mine, she starts us toward the entrance.

How awful is it that part of me wishes there had been some kind of emergency?