“Yep. I was running late, and she was picking me up.” Spencerthought back on the conversation. “You know what? Rebecca stuck up for me.”
Lucy’s brow furrowed. “What? What does that mean? I’m going toneed details, please. She stuck up for you how? Against who?”
“Whom.”
“What the fuck ever, just tell me the story,” Lucy demanded, witha laugh.
“Against Marti.”
Lucy’s eyes went wide. Then she made a rolling gesture with herhand, urging Spencer to continue.
“It was no big deal. Just…Marti jokingly said I was not athleticand that I’d always been kind of…soft.” She didn’t like saying it. True or not,it still stung. Spencer pursed her lips and pushed them sideways, making aface.
“Wait.” Lucy held up a hand. “Yourfiancéetold your trainer you were soft?Like, squishy? That kind of soft? Not, like, softhearted or a pushover orsomething? But literally soft of muscle? Like, flabby?”
“Exactly like flabby.”
“Wow.” It was as if Lucy needed a moment. She sipped her coffee,took another bite of toast, chewed. Finally, she asked, “What did Rebecca say?”
Spencer scooped up the last of her eggs, held the fork aloft asshe squinted, pretending to search for words that she knew by heart. “She saidI was anything but soft. That I work really hard and that I’m getting results.Visible results.” She didn’t add the low timbre of Rebecca’s voice, how it hadfelt a bit threatening, like Rebecca was protecting Spencer. She didn’t mentionhow much she’d liked that.
“And Marti’s response was…?”
“‘If you say so.’” Spencer made air quotes around the othersentence she wouldn’t forget.
“Wow.” Lucy blinked at her, seemingly stunned into silence.“Just…wow.”
“Yeah.” Spencer picked up her mug as the waitress stopped at theirtable and warmed up Lucy’s. They sipped quietly for several moments.
“Hey, Spencer, can I ask you something?”
Spencer nodded. “Sure.”
“I might be overstepping,” Lucy warned, her face hesitant.
Spencer reached across the table and closed a hand over Lucy’s.“You can ask me anything. Despite only knowing you a short time, I trust you.It’s weird.”
Lucy smiled. “I feel the same way.”
“Good. Shoot.”
Lucy looked down, studied her coffee in the mug. When she lookedback up, her eyes were soft. Tender. “Are you happy?”
Three little words. That’s all they were. Three little words. Foursyllables. Eleven letters. But they settled down onto Spencer’s shoulders withthe weight of the lead vest the dentist used when taking x-rays, heavy andconstricting, making it hard to take a full breath. She let the question rollaround inside her, twist and turn, spin one way, then the other, until finally,she knew she had to answer. She owed Lucy an answer. An honest one.
“About four years ago, I was head over heels in love.”
Lucy seemed to settle back into her seat, as if she knew somemajor information was coming her way.
“Her name was Chelsea and she was an anesthesiologist. Beautiful.Tall, long dark hair, huge brown eyes. I had never fallen so hard, so fast as Idid with her. We dated for over a year, but I knew from the first month that Iwanted to marry her.” Spencer knew her voice had gone a little dreamy, but shecouldn’t seem to help it. That was how she’d felt in those first few blissfulmonths with Chelsea: like she was in a perpetual dream state. “We didn’t talkabout it, of course. No better way to scare somebody away than tell them youwant to marry them after five dates.” She laughed, but there was an edge. “ButI planned it in my head. I could see it. We’d have beautiful lacy white dressesand our fathers would walk us down the aisle and it would be magical. When Icame out, I assumed that kind of a wedding was no longer an option, but withChelsea, it felt like I got it back, like the possibility had returned.”
Spencer glanced at Lucy, whose face was a mix of enthralledanticipation and dread. It was obvious she knew the story didn’t have a happyending.
“It was our fourteen-month anniversary—I was silly like that backthen, celebrated monthly anniversaries like a child—and I decided this was it.I was going to pop the question. I planned it so meticulously. Madereservations at our favorite restaurant. For both of us as well as several ofour friends and my parents. I had them all set to come in after us and sitbehind Chelsea so she didn’t see them. The waiter was to drop the ring in herglass of champagne and we’d toast and I’d get down on one knee and ask her. Andthen we’d have a big celebration.”
Spencer didn’t go back there often, didn’t allow herself to. Butit had been a while, and she was surprised to find that it hurt the smallestbit less than last time as she envisioned that gorgeous restaurant, the whitelinen tablecloths, Chelsea’s little black dress and upswept hair.
“What happened?” Lucy asked, her voice so quiet, Spencer wonderedif she was afraid of breaking something with it.
