He’s joking, but we’re not laughing.
Sensing our concern, Whit sighs. “Fine. I had a shitty afternoon. But nothing terrible--I promise. My mom called earlier and we talked. She had some news. I didn’t take it well and I may have acted like a bit of an asshole.” He puts his hands in surrender immediately. “I called back to apologize.”
“Everything ok with your mom?” I ask. It’s no secret that the four of us got dealt shit hands when it comes to parents. That’s part of what binds us, and why we consider ourselves more of a family than most of the people we’re biologically related to or legally bound to. But Booker and Whit both lucked out in the mom department. They have daddy issues up the wazoo, but so do Knox and I, so I can’t throw too much shade.
“Yeah, she’s fine. She’s been seeing someone for a while now, not long. Brian. They met at a charity function this summer and she’s head over heels. Fine. I’m not going to begrudge her any happiness. Christ knows she deserves it. My dad’s been gone eighteen years; she raised me single-handedly. And I’m no fucking picnic.”
“Ok, so why sound the alarm?” Knox cuts right to it.
“He proposed. She said yes. And I might’ve lost my shit.”
“He proposed? How long did you say they were together?” I ask.
“About two months.”
Damn. That’s not a lot of time. And Whit’s mom comes from money, not to mention the settlement from his dad’s death. “You think he’s after her money?”
“I did, at first. But he’s got plenty of his own. It’s Brian Alvarez.”
The name sounds vaguely familiar, but…
“Lucy’s dad,” Whit supplies, knowing we’re all trying to put the pieces together.
“Shit,” Knox says.
“Lucy? Your Lucy?” I ask, though I already know the answer.
“She’s notmyLucy. Never was, never will be.” His words are clear and final, but I’m not sure if he’s trying to convince us, or himself. Whit’s crushed on Lucy since we all first met her, Jesus...seven years ago? It was the summer before we turned 14. It was insta-love for him, and insta-disdain for her. They’re total opposites. And they continue that push-and-pull every time they see each other.
Whit sighs. “So, I may have lectured my mother on parasitic, predatory men, but I won’t say it was without just cause. I suggested a background check, like any devoted son would do, and you’d think I suggested submerging him in water to drive out the demons with the way my mom reacted.”
“That’s a service Booker’s dad probably provides.” Knox smirks and shoves a forkful of food into his mouth.
“Disturbing, but also probably accurate,” Booker nods.
I’m still trying to wrap my head around this. “So, your mom’s really going through with it? Marrying this guy after dating him for two months? I mean, sure, we’ve known Lucy since we were in middle school, but I don’t know a ton about her dad. He’s a doctor, right?”
“Yea, an anesthesiologist at Mercy. My mom met him at one of their fundraisers. And she balked when I suggested a background check, telling me I was overreacting. But, come on. They’ve only been dating for two months.”
“The Miss Kristy I grew up with isn’t known for impulsivity,” Booker says. “And yea, two months isn’t much time, but give her some credit, Whit. They may have just met, but they know all the same people. I highly doubt Lucy’s dad is hiding a shady past.”
“Really? Do you even watch TV? It’s always the quiet ones, Book. And how well do we know Lucy? What? We went to summer camp together for a couple years. I’ve seen her at a few parties. But that’s it. I know she looks fuck hot in a bikini. I know she’s judgy as hell. And I know her dad’s strict enough to give your dad a run for his money. Doesn’t mean the guy’s not a white-collar criminal.”
“Please tell me you did not say that to your mom?” Booker winces.
“You know I did. Well, I left out the part about Lucy in a bikini, I think. Anyway, according to my mom, Brian makes her happier than she’s been since my dad died, so what the fuck was I supposed to say to that? I was tempted to tell her that if Lucy’s dad is half as uptight as she is, my mom’s impending marriage sounds like hell on earth. But I couldn’t be that much of an asshole.” He grabs a roll from the basket, rips it in half, and slathers both sides with butter.
“So, when’s the wedding? You need us to crash it?” Knox asks, looking decidedly eager at the prospect.
“Nah, though it would be more fun if you guys were there. My mom wants to fly to St. Martin over Thanksgiving, but it all depends on Lucy’s schedule, because, of course, it does. She has some interview or something? Hell if I know. I just told my mom I’d be wherever she needed me, whenever she needed it, but leave it to Lucy and her likely asshole father to complicate things unnecessarily.”
I think Whit’s protesting a little too much about his soon-to-be stepsister, but I’ll just keep that commentary to myself.
“So, now that we’re all together and you three can rest easy knowing I’m not on the verge of self-harm,” he gives us all a knowing look, “how’ve you bitches been?”
“Whit--” I start, but he interrupts.
“I get it. Seriously. I get that you’re worried. And fuck knows I love you for it, but I promise-- I’m in a better place now, ok? Yea, I get pissed sometimes. And sad. But I can manage it. Ok?”
