MR. AND MRS. LOVEJOY.
I took the place card off the table and tossed it in the trash can. In about eight months (according to my research, that was how long this whole divorce would take), I’d never answer to that name again. Quincy was trying desperately to figure out how to salvage our professional careers. We’d built them on this seemingly perfect marriage and our ability to dispense advice about healing damaged relationships. Who would want to take advice from a couple who couldn’t fix their own problems?
I imagined that I’d have to open my practice back up. I’d closed it after Oprah because I simply hadn’t been able to keep up with the demand.
Sure, we’d made good money so far and I probably could even go a couple of years without having to work. But since I didn’t like worrying about money, I’d probably jump right back into the fray. As much as I used to love being a practicing therapist, the thought that I’d have to go back to it saddened me because it would mean I’d failed at something, and I didn’t do failure.
I ignored the stare of the banquet manager, who was looking at me like she was trying to figure out why I’d thrown the place card away. I just wanted to put on my mask, accept this award, and resume my day.
I’d sat up talking to Ivan until about 3 a.m. Of course, Nicole had called to check on me and hadn’t stopped calling until I’d caught a cab back to the hotel.
It was so ironic that the retreat would begin with this—Jay and me receiving the Spirit of Marriage Award from the Family First Foundation. I had wanted to decline the honor, but since the whole award presentation had been part of the organization’s sponsorship, Quincy had informed us that we didn’t have a choice.
Now, sitting here in the packed ballroom, I wished that I’d told Quincy we paid him to be a fixer, and that I needed him to fix this.
“Readjust the face,” Nicole said, leaning in to me.
“What? I’m fine,” I whispered, shifting in my seat.
“No, you’re really not fine,” Nicole replied.
We were sitting at the head table. Nicole, who was to give this glowing speech about the impenetrable love between the two of us, was on one side. Jay was on the other side, smiling like he didn’t have a care in the world. His door had been closed when I got in. He hadn’t even cared that I wasn’t there.
“Seriously, you are facing all of these people. It’s obvious something is wrong,” Nicole continued.
Something was wrong. I was being lauded for my sham of a marriage? Please.
“Maybe you shouldn’t stay out partying all night when we have work to do,” Jay leaned over and whispered.
I wanted to take my New England clam chowder and throw it in his face. Instead, I just glared at him.
He pulled back in a huff.
Though I didn’t reply, I was sure my eyes spoke a thousand words.
“Come on, sweetie. You can do this.” Nicole gently squeezed my hand underneath the table.
I took a deep breath and turned back to my friend. “The question is, can you do this?” I pointed to the manila folder in front of Nicole. “I mean, get up there and lie about how perfect this marriage is? Can you really deliver that introduction knowing it’s all a big lie?”
“I got this, okay?” Nicole patted the folder. “You just get that disgusted expression off your face.”
“Fine.” I faked a cheesy grin, then motioned for the waiter to bring me another mimosa. Both Nicole and Jay shot me warning looks, but I ignored them as the waiter filled the glass up. It was my third glass and they hadn’t even gotten to the main course of brunch, but after the hellish month I’d had, I felt entitled.
Just as the waiter finished pouring my mimosa, I reached for the glass. Nicole put her hand on my arm. “We’d like some coffee—black,” she said firmly to the waiter.
“What are you doing?” My voice rose an octave.
Nicole glanced around the room. Most people were enjoying their food and not paying us much attention, but a few people at the head table were looking our way, including the president of the Family First Foundation.
“Umm, I need you to come with me to the restroom to fix the back of my dress,” Nicole announced.
I leaned back and looked at Nicole’s dress. “There’s nothing wrong with your dress.”
“Come on,” Nicole said, standing up. She took my arm and helped me up.
I stumbled, then adjusted my skirt, giggling. “Dang, I guess I didn’t really need that third mimosa.”
Jay looked horrified. I was just about to ask him what the hell he was looking at, but Nicole snatched me away before I could get the words out.
“Excuse us, we’ll be right back,” Nicole told the emcee, who was looking at us in bewilderment.
Nicole opened the folder and used one hand to point to something inside as she kept her other hand gripped firmly around me. “So I need you to approve these last-minute speech changes,” she said, loud enough for others on the dais to hear.
We stepped off the stage and Nicole hissed to a different waiter standing by the kitchen door, “Bring a cup of black coffee to the ladies’ room right now.”
The waiter scurried off and Nicole pulled me through some double doors.
“Why are we in the kitchen?” I asked, still giggling.
Nicole had closed the folder and was now stomping through the kitchen, nearly knocking over waiters as we made our way toward the back.
“Where’s the staff restroom?” she demanded.
A petite waitress pointed down a narrow hall. “Right around that corner on the left.”
“Dang, it looks like that show Hell’s Kitchen back here. Where’s chef Gordon Ramsay?” I chuckled at my own joke as Nicole grabbed my arm again.
“Nic, where’s the fire?” I said as I struggled to keep up.
Nicole pushed me into the ladies’ room. “Have you lost your damn mind?” she said as soon as the door closed.
“Hey, you can’t talk to me like that. You work for me, remember?”
“Right now, I’m your friend. Not your employee.” Nicole jabbed a finger in my face. “And I’m about to tell you about yourself.”
“Tell me what?”
Nicole spun me around to face the mirror. “Look at yourself! Really? My friend is the consummate lady! She wouldn’t be caught dead drunk in public, and she sure as hell wouldn’t be drunk at an event where she’s being honored!”
I was about to protest and say that while I might have been a tad bit tipsy, I was nowhere near drunk. Then I saw my reflection. Although I never saw my call-in guests, the woman staring back at me in the mirror was the image of those pathetic women I despised. I had just carelessly brushed my hair, so there were stray strands everywhere. While my outfit was nice, a pink floral belted St. John jacket and skirt, my shoes didn’t match. I’d been too out of it to even unpack my other bag and pull out the pair that went with that outfit. Even my mascara had started running. How was that possible? Had I been sitting at the head table, crying?
“Seriously, look at you!” Nicole continued. “You stayed out all night drinking. Then you wake up and drink some more. I know you’re hurting, but you’ve got to pull it together.”
I lowered my head in shame. “He’s just sitting there acting like nothing is wrong. He broke my heart and he’s acting like it’s no big deal. And I tried to pay him back last night, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it,” I finally sobbed. It was the first time I’d truly cried since I’d found out about the affair. “Why do I have a conscience about our vows but he doesn’t?”
Nicole pulled me to her and hugged me like she was trying to suck up some of the pain. “Trust me, Jay is hurting too. He just knows he has to get through this week.”
“He’s not hurting.” I sniffed as I pulled back. “This is what he wants or he would’ve never cheated in the first place.”
Nicole rubbed my arms. “Maybe once you make it through this, you can talk about that some more. But you’ve got to keep it together.”
I glanced at the mirror again. “Oh, my God. I look pathetic. I can’t do this, Nicole,” I cried, grabbing some paper towels off the wall and dabbing at my tear-streaked face.
“You can and you will,” Nicole said, her voice firm.
There was a light tapping on the door.
“Who is it?” Nicole snapped.
“I… I, um, have your coffee,” the voice on the other side said.
Nicole shook her head at me as she walked over and got the coffee.
I glanced back at my reflection. Nicole was right. Never in a million years had I thought I’d let any man—even my husband—leave me literally crumbled and doing things out of character. When Eddie had broken it off with me, I’d sworn off men, but I hadn’t shed one tear over him. But this was different. This was the man I’d sworn to love till death did us part.
“Drink this.” Nicole returned and thrust the coffee cup at me.
I took it without protest and gulped down the hot liquid. I grimaced—I hated black coffee—but Nicole was right: I needed to pull it together. I was a professional, and no matter what I was going through personally, this was not the way to deal with it.
I took small deep breaths as I stood and tried to get my bearings. Nicole pulled out some more paper towels, wet them, then handed them to me. I took them and dabbed away the smeared mascara. Nicole helped me finger-brush my flyaway hair, then stood back and smiled.
“There, much better,” she said, before glancing down at my feet. “Except for the shoes. Is that a new fashion trend, purple shoes with pink floral?”
I managed a smile. “I guess we can say it’s a trend now.”
“Yeah, I think that’s one trend I’ll pass on.” She grabbed my arm. “Now, come on. Let’s go put on an Academy Award–winning performance; then tonight, we can go back to my room, drink virgin drinks, and talk about how men aren’t anything but dogs.”
“Except for Emerson. You have a good man.”
“And we’re going to find you a good man. Someone worthy of Shannon Lovejoy.”
“Parker. Shannon Parker,” I replied, sniffing as I lost my smile. “I’m going back to my maiden name.”
“Whatever you want, sweetie. Just drink the rest of this coffee.”
I gulped the hot liquid, then smiled in gratitude. I was glad to have someone like Nicole in my corner. Not only as an employee but, more important, as a friend.