“Okay, then. Mom, you, me, and Tennyson will go. I’m so excited,” Emma said, her face portraying exactly that. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparkling, and in that moment, Melanie didn’t think she’d ever seen a prettier girl.
Melanie knew her emotions about the trip were evident when Emma’s expression shifted to concern. “I know you and Tennyson aren’t exactly friends anymore, but maybe this will be good. After all, our two families are going to be spending a lot of time together. And whatever your past, surely you can try to be reasonable about . . . uh, being together? Find some middle ground?”
“Sure. I can be reasonable, remember? Finding your dress will be . . . fun.” Melanie managed to not choke over the word. After the meeting with the wedding planner, the thought of picking out a wedding dress with Tennyson made her feel itchy. But she would try because Emma deserved as much. And her daughter was correct—she’d have to find some middle ground. Or at the very least, learn to ignore Tennyson.
“Thank you, Mom. And who knows? Maybe you can find your way to being friends again,” Emma said over the top of the menu she’d opened. She gave Melanie a big smile, one that might have been a little sassy.
“Fat chance,” Kit whispered toward her as he bent to retrieve his napkin. When he lifted his head, he was distracted by two stilettos and a pencil skirt. “Char, you made it. We were just about to order.”
“Hello, everyone,” Charlotte said, obviously having moved through the restaurant like a viper approaching prey. Or maybe that was how it always felt—like she was stalking them, ready to strike at any moment and swallow Kit whole.
Melanie’s mother looked up and frowned, offering no greeting. Emma said a polite hello, and Melanie tried to smile. “Hello, Charlotte. Where’s your . . . uh, friend?”
She made a confused face. “Friend?”
“Brendan?”
“Oh, yeah, he couldn’t come after all,” she said with a wave of her hand.
Melanie would place a hundred-dollar bill on the bet that Brendan had never been invited. “Well, we’re glad you could join us.”
Liar.
Charlotte pulled out a chair and sank onto it. “I am, too. I never get to spend much time with Kit’s family. I see him almost every day, of course, but it’s nice to spend time away from the grind. We’ve been so busy on this new development, I’ve lost five pounds from the stress. Guess that means I can have extra chips and salsa.”
Really? She lost five pounds from stress? If that were true, Melanie should be a veritable waif. Didn’t stress make you eat? Like whole sleeves of Oreos and tubs of ice cream?
Guess everyone dealt with stress differently.
“Well, don’t worry. We’ll be getting away from the grind in Destin. You can drink pi?a coladas and chill at the pool when we’re not in sessions,” Kit said, handing Charlotte a menu.
Melanie went hot and then cold in a matter of seconds. Destin? What?
“Wait, when are you going to Destin?” Emma asked, dropping the menu and looking at her father.
“In two weeks. It’s the Sky Com Conference for NARED. It’s on our family calendar. Char and I will be gone for four days. We’re actually presenting a program on climate adaptations for new developments.” Kit looked pleased. He loved to present his knowledge to his colleagues; thus, he put in to host workshops every year. Last year it had been in Las Vegas. Melanie hadn’t gone because Noah had his wisdom teeth out that week.
She vaguely remembered Kit mentioning it, but then all this wedding stuff happened, and she’d forgotten all about it. Melanie wasn’t concerned about Kit going to the conference—he went almost every year. She’d even gone with him a few times, calling it a getaway from the stress of being a SAHM. Nope, the conference wasn’t the problem at all.
It was the five-pounds-lighter, hungry-for-another-woman’s-husband hussy who sat next to him nibbling a chip who was the problem.
“I just bought two new bikinis on sale at Dillard’s. I will find time to hit the beach,” Charlotte said, tossing a smile at them all before picking up her menu and scanning the offerings.
Melanie looked over at Kit. The man had to know her concerns. They’d been discussing ad nauseam their relationship and Melanie’s concern that Kit secretly desired to dump his sane, stable life and pursue something less . . . confining. Being honest was the therapist’s constant decree, and Kit hadn’t