What a Girl Needs (29 page)

“So, are you trying to set her up with Thomas? Is that why you’re keeping me out of the kitchen?” He lowers his voice. “Is that what this is about? Ashley’s botched matchmaking schemes? Because I fail to see what would make him a better catch than me—especially considering he has no intention of marrying anyone, so maybe you should take your matchmaking skills back to Philly with you.”

“I’m not matchmaking, and I’m not keeping you out of the kitchen. I’m only telling you that Kay’s had offers. It’s been her choice not to marry, so why would you think no one else wanted her?” My blood is starting to boil, and I’m obsessed with that line, if I’m honest. Kay may drive me nuts, but she’s my girl—and no one has the right to talk badly about her. Least of all some yahoo who claims to want to marry her.

Matt takes me by the wrist and pulls me out the back door onto the patio. “Did you tell her I said that?”

I pause a minute, let him sweat it out. “Of course I didn’t tell her. I’d never say something so cruel to Kay. I’d never even think anything so cruel, which is why I can’t get it out of my head that you would say it. I mean, who do you think you are, Ryan Gosling?”

He drops his head, and the strut has gone out of his peacock stance. “That’s why you didn’t want to come with me to the jewelry store?”

“I wanted to be happy about this, Matt. Believe it or not, I did. But when you said that, you may as well have socked me in the stomach. Going to that jewelry store felt like the ultimate betrayal to Kay, because I wanted so much better for her. But I went because that’s what I thought she’d want, and she’s a big girl. She has to make her own decisions. You were her choice, but now that there’s another possible option, am I upset by that? Absolutely not.”

He scrunches his face as if in pain. “It’s not what I think about Kay. I promise you on my mother’s grave that it’s not what I think.”

I’m not convinced. I’ve known Matt a long time, and he is a lawyer. Lawyers know how to say whatever you want to hear. I should know, right? Where are his words of love? The listings of all of her fantastic attributes? The utter lack of intelligence and savvy thinking that falling in love brings?

“Then, why would you say it? It has to be somewhere inside your mind for you to say it.” The more I think of it, the more I get incensed. “Why would you marry someone that you didn’t think other men wanted? I’ve got news for you. There’s always someone else. Even if you look like Quasimodo.” I catch myself. “She doesn’t look like Quasimodo. That’s not what I’m saying.” I look into the house, glad that Kay can’t hear me “defend” her. I am definitely not helping her case.

“I was trying to psyche myself up, that she’d say yes.”

“By putting her down?”

“Obviously, I don’t think that, Ashley. Is that why you don’t think we should get married?”

I don’t know how to answer that question. He’s not a believer. He had the misfortune of dating Emily. I mean, where do I even start? But if I knew Kay really loved him, it would make a difference. I know she told me that she did, but there was just something in her voice that was too desperate for me to believe it. She tried too hard to convince me, and now that I feel the desperation in Matt, I wonder if Kay has been convinced she loves him. He does specialize in persuasion.

“Matt?” Kay calls from inside, and he turns toward the house while shedding his suit jacket. “Matt?” She calls again.

“Out here!” he calls while keeping his eyes firmly on me, as if to threaten me that if I tell Kay anything, he’ll be on me like white on rice.

“Were you here all along?” Kay asks.

“Uh, no. Just got here. Ashley and I had some business to discuss.”

“Anxious to see your handiwork in the backyard, are you?”

“Y-yes.”

“Ashley, can you come give me a hand with dinner?” This is code for something else. Kay wants my help in the kitchen as much as she wants the rat’s help from
Ratatouille
. (At least the rat had mad skills.)

I walk into the kitchen and Kay appears rattled, scuttling about like a trapped rodent.
Completely out of character.
“The Tri-Tip is huge. Do you think Brea and her family might want to come to dinner?”

“With her kids?” I want to check her forehead at this point.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen them,” Kay says simply, as if she doesn’t abhor children in her space.

“Because you don’t like—”

“Ashley, can you ask them to dinner, please?”

“Yeah.” I shrug. “No problem.”
I mean, really. Why not make an awkward situation ten times more awkward?

Kay steps back into the kitchen and loops her apron on over her head. Thomas tries to help and reaches for her hair, by pulling her hair off the back of her neck, so intimately, his fingers brush as light as a butterfly’s wings. I feel as if I’ve intruded on a private moment by watching. He takes the ties and cinches it around her waist and makes a bow before placing his hands on either side of her waist. Kay turns brusquely to get away, but somehow becomes entangled in his arms, and they embrace just when Matt walks in from the living room.

Kay and Thomas don’t notice either one of us as we stand side-by-side, and I’m shattered for Matt as his expression drops, though I really shouldn’t be, but watching someone in pain brings me no joy. Even if they’ve earned it.

“That’s why you didn’t want me to ask her?” Matt says, a cloud of suspicion aimed at me. “You’re pushing for Thomas because he’s the same religion?”

Kay and Thomas turn toward us, then separate, but Thomas’s arm is still at her waist.

“You’re a Christian?” Kay asks Thomas, and he nods slightly.

“I’m not pushing for anything! They’ve only just met. Not ten minutes ago.” I look at Kay for backup. I want her to tell Matt it’s just a misunderstanding, but that maybe it’s time he appreciated her. But she just stands there like a mannequin while Thomas has yet to remove his arm from around her waist.

“Ashley.” Kay moves away from Thomas. Can you set the table for three more? I’ve invited Seth and Arin.”

“Kay, the steak isn’t five loaves and fishes. It’s not going to multiply.” But she’s not listening.

Matt steps forward and kisses her on the cheek. “Hi, sweetheart.”

I can’t help but note Matt’s eyes are on Thomas while he kisses Kay.

“What else can I do to help, Kay?”

“Thomas,” Matt says. “Why don’t you come with me out back? We’ll fire up the grill,” he says in a menacing tone.

After they leave, I stare at Kay. “Well, something’s getting fired up and it might not be the grill.”

Kay closes her eyes and puts her hand to her heart. “I’m in trouble, Ashley. Big trouble.” Then she starts murmuring under her breath, “This too shall pass. This too shall pass.”

We can only hope so. We hope it passes and takes Matt with it when it goes.

‡

M
att, Thomas, and
Kay are engaged in intense conversation, seemingly about work, but obviously subtexting deeper realms. I use this opportunity to escape unnoticed to the guest room and collapse on the bed. If I were Kay, I’d go for a five-mile run and clear my head. But sadly, I’m not Kay and my coping skills run more toward crap television and a tub of Ben & Jerry’s.
I’m not exactly on the macrobiotic diet in times of struggle.

Staring up at the ceiling, I notice how perfect Kay has the crown molding painted against the ceiling. It’s absolutely straight with no paint mishaps or missed color. It’s how she does everything in her life, so I don’t know why I’m worried about her. The way Kay manages things, she’ll probably have both men in love with her without ever having to put a ring on her finger or commit, if that’s what she wants.

My cell phone rings. Wonders never cease. It’s my husband.

“Kevin!” I say, half-expecting to hear his assistant’s voice with another excuse.

“Why is it every time I call, you sound as if you’re ready to implode? You’re on vacation. You should be lounging at the beach and having pedicures.”

“Kevin, you never call. How would you know what I sound like?” He is silent. “I’m sorry. Your sister told me you’d call me tomorrow.”

“I had a minute,” he says, like I’m nothing more than an insurance company and he’s got time to check rates.

“Do you want me to come home?”

“I want you to have a vacation.”

“No, I mean ever. Do you want me to come back there? Because I’ve got a few job opportunities here. Maybe I should stay.” My stomach tightens.

“Is—is that what you want to do?” he asks.

And I don’t answer. I just sit and contemplate for a full minute. “I don’t know what I want.”

“I’d never keep you from what you loved, Ashley. Maybe the sacrifice is too big for someone like you.”

“Someone like me?” Great. He doesn’t think I’m cut out to be a wife either. Not a great thought process in one’s husband.

“Smart,” he says. “Capable.”

“Brea’s capable and smart. She’s a wife.”

“I don’t want to have this conversation over the phone, Ashley.”

My chest tightens.

“Ash, you still there?”

“I’m here.”

“You found a job out there?”

“Maybe,” I say curtly.

He clears his throat. “So you’d prefer we moved back to California. That’s what you’re telling me?”

I growl like a lioness, “No, that’s not what I am saying. I’m saying I can’t decide—” I stop myself. “We can’t decide our future in five minute increments, Kevin!”

I hear his name called over the intercom system.

“I heard. You’ve gotta run, right?”

“I’ll call you in the morning, beautiful. I love you.”

“I love you too.” I hang up the phone. Never finishing a conversation is like being in a constant state of limbo. You can’t move forward. You can’t move back. You’re just stuck.

I hang up and a text comes through from my husband.
Forgot why I called. Mom flying in. Details later.

“Mom flying in, where? Whose mom? Not my mom!”

Kay peeks her head in and doesn’t even mention that I’m talking to myself. “Dinner’s ready in about 45 minutes. Did you call Brea?”

I shake my head. “She’s not coming.” I neglect to add that I never called her. I think another dysfunctional Reasons dinner party in the space of three days is enough fun for any California vacation.

She nods.

“Kay,” I call after her.

“Yes?”

“Are you going to confront Matt?”

She steps into the room and closes the door behind her. This is happening during dinner preparation while she has two suitors in her kitchen, guests arriving soon, and a table to set. I’m reeling from the magnitude of this moment.

“Kevin sent you a bouquet of roses to thank you for taking his sister. He sent me one too.”

“Good. I hope Matt is eating his heart out.”

“Ash, I’m going to accept Matt’s proposal.”

“You’re what?” I leap off the bed. “Kay, you’ve got to be kidding me. What about Thomas out there? What about the orange bag of lace? What about the fact that he admitted to indiscretions in your own home? Not even your home together.
Your
home!”

“Matt’s told me about Thomas. He’s always been jealous of Matt. This is simply another manifestation of that.”

“But you don’t love Matt.”

“How on earth would you know if I loved Matt or not? I’m not a fairy tale kind of woman. Love looks different to a woman like me than it does to a woman like you. My mother was married—”

“Three times by the time you were fourteen. Yeah, yeah, yeah. What happened to not being the marrying kind? Not having to answer to anyone. You’re an independent thinker – should I go on?”

Kay rests her hands in her lap. “I can’t explain it, but my answer is going to be yes. Rest up before dinner.” Kay shuts the door behind her and I focus on the perfect paint job once again.

There was a time, in the innocence of my youth, that I believed everyone who said they were a Christian acted like one, and the church was immune from the darker sins of the world. Life experience has shown me that we all have a sinful nature, with some darker than others, and innocent trust in the wrong people can have far worse consequences, because not only is your faith in humanity shaken by betrayal, but when it happens in the church, your faith in God wavers, too. Kay is the strongest woman I know. She loves God, and order, and adhering to His will, and I feel betrayed by this new, weaker Kay.

As I emerge from my room, the sun is sinking on the horizon and the dusky pink sky shows Kay’s décor in the best light. Thomas Galway buzzes around Kay like an unwanted bee, and I see myself in him. How I wanted to protect Seth from a painful future with Arin, and learning the hard way that it wasn’t my place to rescue him. Maybe that’s my lesson here. It’s not my place to rescue Kay, any more than it is Thomas’s job. We’re all held accountable for our own decisions, not anyone else’s.

The doorbell rings, and I take my cue and get out of the way. I open the door, and Seth and Arin are on the front steps. See, this is my life. I escape one nightmare, only to enter another. Arin looks like she’d rather have a root canal than be here, and who can blame her? She must have really not wanted to cook tonight.