“Madigan. I’m sure you’ve met my date, Victoria.”
Met his date? What the hell is with this asshole? Yes, I’ve met her. I was married to her, for chrissakes.
“Victoria, Joel,” I nod. “I’d like you to meet Molly Randall, my girlfriend. And, of course, you both know my colleague, Nate.”
“Colleague? So he’s not your secretary anymore?” Victoria has clearly had five drinks too many. I don’t recall that being much of an issue when we were married, but it might have been. We really never spent a lot of time together, not the way that Simon and Elaine or Duncan and Betsy do.
Nate bristles at her comment, but I sense it when he steels himself and laughs it off, just like he needs to do, if he’s going to make it in this cut-throat business. “Victoria, it’s lovely to see you again. Your glass is empty. Let me fix that. I’ll be right back.”
My ex hardly needs another drink, but Nate is probably happy for the escape.
“I got your email this afternoon, Joel. I appreciate the gesture, but we have Chicago under control.” My words are smooth and subtle, relaying the message, but not embarrassing him in front of his date.
It soon becomes clear that he doesn’t need my help in that department. He can embarrass himself just fine.
“Fuck you, Madigan,” he spits. A few heads turn, and I smile good-naturedly, hoping to convince them that they didn’t hear what they thought they heard.
“You ready for another drink, Love?” I ask Molly, sweeping her forward and away from the shitshow that is surely brewing.
I’m not fast enough, though.
Victoria reaches out and grabs Molly’s arm. The surprise of it all allows her to get a decent grip, but not for long. Molly pulls her arm back forcefully and glares at my ex-wife. “Is there a reason you felt the need to touch me?”
The venom in Molly’s tone doesn’t even register. Victoria’s eyes are glassy, and she stumbles a bit as she leans forward. “He’s not going to marry you, sweetie. Ev’s married to his work. He always has been. I bet you think you’re different, but you’re not.”
“That’s what you don’t get, Victoria. I am different. I’m not looking for marriage. I’m just here for Ev.” And with that, my gorgeous, classy, curvy girl leads me to the bar.
And I happily follow.
I wake up to the sound of a phone buzzing. It’s not my alarm or my ringtone, but it yanks me from my slumber all the same. There’s a note from Ev on the pillow next to mine saying that he’s at the gym, and he’ll be back by 9. Stretching out my deliciously sore muscles (thanks, Ev), I roll out of bed to grab my phone to check the time. I rummage through my bag to find it there at the bottom, totally out of charge. Okay, no biggie. Now, I just need to find my charger.
That takes a full five minutes, but it’s time well spent. Meanwhile, Ev’s phone keeps buzzing, but I just ignore it.
I still have no idea what time it is or how soon Ev will be back, but I decide a shower is probably a good idea, either way. And if he happens to join me halfway through, all the better. I gather my clothes, my toiletries and my straightener. (Yes, I am high maintenance and damn proud of it). I dump my supplies in the spacious bathroom and scoot back into our room to grab my robe, when I hear that damn buzzing again. My phone still isn’t awake, so I check Ev’s. It occurs to me that something could’ve happened with Elaine and the baby, so I grab the phone and feel immediate relief when I see Nick’s name next to a GIF of Captain Jack Sparrow talking about his love of weddings. Ok, if they’re trading wedding GIFs, there’s clearly no baby crisis. Breathing a sigh of relief, I set the phone down, but another text comes through, and it catches my eye.
Duncan: Get ready, Ev, you’re next!
Wait, what? Now I’m gripping the phone like it’s a lifeline and scrolling up to see if I missed something that makes this a joke. Like, maybe they’re taking turns dressing up as Jack Sparrow for Halloween? Yea, that’s got to be it.
But it’s not.
The texts just keep coming through.
Simon: Lainie would flip her shit if Ev and Molly got engaged
Nick:I can’t wait to plan your bachelor party, Ev. All the stuff you won’t let us do for Simon is on the agenda for your party. Payback’s a bitch.
Dunc: Hey, why not make it a double wedding? (sends GIF of Julia Roberts inPretty Womansaying, I want the fairy tale.)
I put down the phone and stop reading; I should never have started. I shake it off and step into the shower, letting the hot water relax me. I go through the motions of washing, rinsing, and repeating, and before long, my skin is pruny, and the water is turning cold.
My regular routine takes a half an hour or so, and I use that time to talk myself off the ledge. I need to chill, so I don’t go batshit on the man the minute he walks in from his workout. Because, really, he’s done nothing wrong. I can’t hold him responsible for our friends’ dumb texts. And he never really weighed in on the thread—he only gave a thumbs up to Simon’s initial text, letting us know that Elaine found a veil online that she has to have. They carry it in a store out in Red Oak, which is a little more than half an hour from where we’re staying. Simon’s having a courier deliver it to our hotel, so we can bring it back home.
So. No reason to freak out. I shouldn’t even be annoyed at the boys. Marriage is the inevitable conclusion of many relationships. Besides, those guys live for giving each other a hard time about anything, so I’m sure this is just another excuse to spam each other’s phones with GIFs and stupid jokes.
By the time Ev returns, all sweaty and gross, I’m relaxing with a cup of tea and a good book by the window.
“I won’t kiss you, but only because I stink.”
