when it was time for Gloria to toss the bouquet, she just walked over and handed it to Emily. What, so now the rest of us don’t even get a frickin’ chance? I reminded myself how very much I loathed the whole catch the flowers to catch a husband thing. Then Gloria pulled my sister into a hug so enthusiastic Emily let out an abrupt whoosh of air. She sounded as if she were deflating.
“I’m so happy for you, Peach!” Gloria gushed, using my sister’s childhood nickname. “Hurry and get knocked up so our babies can play together!”
I couldn’t contain my sigh that time. Because . . . babies. Like love and romance and marriage and happily ever after, they weren’t something I let myself think about too often. There was just no point in it. When I was a teacher, I got to spend time with everyone’s kids. I had the best situation because I could have them during the day when they were fresh and eager, then send them home when they got tired and cranky and needed food. But I wasn’t a teacher anymore. I missed my students, and the lack of kid-fix was taking its toll. Gloria’s mention of babies sent a dull jab right into my midsection. Like an infant kick that I’d never experience. Of course Ryan and Emily would probably want to have babies. My sister was only thirty-two. She had plenty of time. And good for them, because Harlan Callaghan wanted more grandchildren, and it sure didn’t look like he was going to get any from me and my thirty-six-year-old ovaries. Tears threatened me again, and I blinked them away. Was I being ridiculous? Of course I was, but the more buoyant everyone else seemed to get, the further I sank. I was a walking anchor.
Gazing over the happy crowd, I admonished myself for being a drama queen. Just because stupid Leo had a stupid job interview, it wasn’t the end of the world. I wasn’t any worse off than I had been before he showed up, and I’d been happy enough a few months ago. I needed to focus on what I did have. I was the mayor of these people. I should be happy that everyone seemed to be having a good time. But the truth was that, surrounded by so much love and joy, all I could think about was going home, putting on my baggiest pajamas, and binge-watching something on TV. Some good old-fashioned Game of Thrones head-lopping should cheer me up.
I looked around, mentally prepping an explanation for why I was leaving early, but then I realized . . . no one would really notice if I left. Everyone was with their people. My friends from Drunk Puzzle Night were currently dancing in a circle around Gloria. Ryan and Emily were slow dancing in a corner, seeming not to care that the tempo of the music was fast. My dad was talking to his poker buddies, and Gigi was telling a very animated story to Gus and Gertie. No one would notice if I slipped away from this fun, rowdy party in exchange for a pity party of one. I glanced at the bar and considered getting another drink, thinking it might flush away my melancholy, but a good night’s sleep would probably do the trick better than anything. I’d be fine tomorrow. I was always fine. That’s why no one ever worried about me. Because I was always fine. I was Brooke Callaghan. I could take care of anything, and anybody. But that was the problem. Who was taking care of me?
Chapter 15
It was almost nine o’clock when I made my exit from Gloria and Tiny’s reception. I’d managed to stick around long enough to watch them cut the cake and smash it into each other’s faces, and while everyone was taking pictures of Tiny scooping frosting from his bride’s ample cleavage, I strolled out the door without anyone noticing.
Now I was walking down Main Street listening to music coming from the few pubs that were still open. It was chilly, and my black dress coat was insufficient for the weather, and although I was walking as fast as my shoes would allow, I’d been coerced into wearing high heels again. They were Chloe’s instead of my sister’s, though, and at least they fit. And they had straps, so no danger of stepping out of them. Even so, painful shoes might have been a worthy distraction.