“She said no.”
“Oh, Spencer.”
“Not only did she say no. She laughed at me and then got angry.Asked me how I could be so stupid as to think she’d want to get married, thatshe wasnevergoing to get married and how could I not know that about her. She didn’trealize we had guests there, so all our friends and my parents heard all of it.When she saw that, she got even angrier, said I’d humiliated her and stormedout of the restaurant.”
“Oh, no.” Lucy brought a hand to her mouth. “Spencer.”
“I spent the next year wondering how I could have possibly misreadthe signs so badly. Any confidence I had, Chelsea took with her when she leftthe restaurant. I tried to crawl back up from that but found myself second-guessingeverything I did, every decision I made.”
“And when did you meet Marti?”
Spencer inhaled slowly, let it out, feeling a sense of relief athaving told the story to Lucy. “About a year later. We were at a party togetherand she came up to me, said hi, brought me a drink. She did most of the talkingbut was charming and sweet, and I liked her right away.”
“You started dating?”
Spencer nodded, thinking back to that time when things were newand fresh. Though, if she was going to be honest, she had to admit that onething that kept her in it. “Marti’s very assertive. She’s decisive.”
“So you could just follow along.” Lucy said it with no accusation,but Spencer heard it and, for the first time, actually absorbed it. Feltembarrassed. Felt shame. Felt weak. “And she said, ‘let’s get married,’ and yousaid, ‘okay.’”
Spencer grimaced. “Not quite. I tend to just…go along when itcomes to Marti. It wasn’t an actual proposal. More of a ‘hey, we should do thisat some point’ kind of thing.”
Lucy shook her head. “Oh, Spencer.”
“I know. I know.” Spencer hung her head. “I’m a mess.”
“You are, but I don’t understand why. You’re wonderful. You’resmart and beautiful and funny and I adore you. Why don’t you?” When Spencerdidn’t answer, she asked, “When’s the last time you were happy? Be honest.”
Spencer didn’t need to think about it at all. “Last Sunday in thebar with you guys and then with Rebecca and her friends.”
Lucy smiled. “Why?”
“Because I felt like I could be myself.”
Lucy sat back with a smile and folded her arms across her chest asif she’d accomplished something. “There you go.” She said it like she’d justsolved the problem, like the solution was crystal clear and sitting in themiddle of the table.
Was it?
Chapter Eighteen
Turtle’s was a mob scene on Sunday. The weather had turned and itactually felt like football season. Toss in the drizzle that fell from the sky,and apparently everybody had decided to watch the games from this particularbar.
Nick had gotten there first, as always, and saved their usualbarstools. Rebecca sat next to him on one side, Dwayne on the other, and Kevinhad been able to join them as well. The Giants scored on the TV across theroom, and that half of the bar erupted in shouts of happiness and applause.
“How’s Michelle feeling?” Rebecca asked, as she leaned in andsnagged a stalk of celery off Nick’s enormous plate of wings. Only threeremained.
“Morning sickness,” he replied, his eyes not leaving the screenabove them as he put an entire wing into his mouth and pulled out a bone like acartoon character would. It never ceased to amaze Rebecca. Nick flexed his lefthand, then grabbed another wing.
“Ugh. That’s got to suck,” she said, turning back to the game.
“Oh, come on, ref!” Dwayne said, from Nick’s other side. “Put yourglasses on, goddamn it.”
“She seems to be doing okay with it,” Nick said.
“And are you being helpful?” Rebecca asked him, her voice gentlyscolding as she bumped him with her shoulder.
Nick held up a hand like a Boy Scout. “I swear, I am. I evenoffered to hold her hair back this morning, but she shut the bathroom door inmy face.”
“Maybe I’ll go see her tomorrow, see what she needs.” Again, theother side of the bar erupted in cheers. “Man, the Giants are killing ittoday.” Something hit her thigh, and when she looked down, there was a largespot of wing sauce on her jeans. “Aw, Nick, come on, man, stop dropping food onme.” She looked up to see Nick’s eyes widen in confusion and his face drain ofcolor. “Nick. Nick!” Rebecca slid off her stool and reached for him. “What’swrong?”
