The Blessings of the Animals: A Novel - By Katrina Kittle Page 0,72

and watched two other couples divorce before we were moved—all of it carefully choreographed—to stand in front of the grandmotherly judge ourselves.

“Do you agree to the terms set forth here?” The judge peered over her turquoise bifocals.

“I do,” I said.

“I do,” Bobby said.

Our wedding vows in reverse.

We signed our names.

And that was that.

Our attorneys whisked us back into the hallway and told us to wait while they made copies of our divorce decree. When they returned, we all shook hands, and then we left, walking out the front door together, into a summer morning with a chicory-blue sky.

Bobby and I paused at the crosswalk, where we turned to each other. Bobby shoved his hands into his pockets and kicked at the sidewalk with his toe. He looks like a little boy, I thought. Binky.

The moment turned into another.

“Have a nice life.” I said it as kindly as I could, then I started walking. When I looked at my watch I was shocked to see the entire procedure had taken less than twenty minutes!

Once in the car, I began calling everyone, as I’d promised. Davy answered with “I can drive right over. I took a personal day, just in case.”

“Aw.” This touched me. “But it’s over. The whole thing was frighteningly efficient. Could’ve been a drive-through.”

Olive had wanted to meet me for breakfast. I had to call her and ask to move it a full forty minutes earlier. When I got to the café, it felt good to sit down; my ribs were throbbing.

I was sick of talking about the divorce. Rather than feeling bitter or sad, I wanted to look forward, so when Olive plopped into the chair across from me, I asked about her and Nick’s wedding plans and said, “Let me know if I can do anything for the big day, okay?”

Olive made that smoke-ring mouth. “Are you kidding me? You’re my maid of honor! I was yours and you’re gonna be mine. We’ve talked about that for years.”

I swallowed my latte too fast, burning my mouth. “B-but, I mean, now that Bobby and I—”

“This is not about my stupid-ass brother. This is about me. This is my day. This is how I always pictured it, and I’m not changing my mind just because my brother went insane.”

“I’ll actually get to be the maid of honor,” I joked.

Olive laughed. “That’s right! See, how perfect? No frumpy ol’ matron for you!”

I looked at her round cheeks, those long outrageous lashes, like her brother’s. What she was attempting was so hard. I wanted her to be happy. I wanted Olive and Nick to get it right. On the morning of my divorce, I wanted to be a part of this couple attempting to take it on. I swore I could almost hear sappy music in the background, or a scene from some grown-up version of Peter Pan—I do believe in marriage! I do believe in marriage! And the dying institution rallying to life like poor Tinker Bell’s light growing brighter and brighter.

Almost.

But I couldn’t shake that doubt that Gabriella might be right.

Chapter Twenty-Four

OLIVE MADE AN APPOINTMENT FOR OUR FIRST FORAY INTO wedding dress shopping.

I’d been taken aback to learn she was going for the white dress, the giant wedding party, the whole nine yards. “Just because I’m over forty doesn’t mean I can’t have the wedding I want,” she said. “I’ve dreamed about this my entire life.”

Just like Gabby used to draw designs of her wedding dress and buy Brides magazine.

Maybe it was time girls had something different to dream about?

My torso ached from being back at the clinic, but I went anyway, determined to be a good sport. Olive seemed much more wedding savvy than I’d been. Salespeople had been disbelieving at my lack of an answer whenever they asked me, “What had you pictured your wedding day to be like, as a little girl?”

I hadn’t pictured it, and the question only conjured images of those ridiculous play weddings in the barn, wearing that prom dress—yellow under the arms and gray at the hem.

All the wedding gowns I’d tried—even the one I ended up with (which Davy had found for me in a vintage boutique)—felt like costumes for a play I’d underrehearsed.

The saleswoman cooed and fluttered over Olive’s ring. “He must love you very much.”

I expected Olive to bristle, as much as I did, but she beamed. What did this woman know about Nick’s love for Olive? The ring was a just a purchase, no way to tell if