Before Kezia went away for her romantic weekend, she took Felicity shopping for a bridal gown. It was a major mother-daughter event, and Felicity wanted her older sister there as well. Kezia had thought of it, but hadn’t wanted to suggest it unless Felicity did. They had appointments with three major designers. Felicity knew their work and had modeled for them before. They were very excited that Felicity Hobson was coming in to try on wedding gowns. She knew what she had in mind. A dress in heavy satin, since the wedding would be in December, with a long train and a traditional cathedral veil. She wanted the gown to be classic but spectacular and, with Felicity wearing it, it would be. In every show she modeled in, particularly the Paris haute couture shows, they had her wear the wedding gown. Now she was choosing one for herself. She could hardly wait, and Kezia was touched by how excited she was. And that she asked Kate to come too. It would also give Kate a chance to see what was available, although she was looking for a much simpler gown than her sister, for her country New England wedding.
Both Felicity and Kezia texted Kate the time of the appointments and the addresses, and Kate did everything she could to avoid them. She told them she was busy, had appointments she couldn’t change, was writing, was coming down with a cold, had to help Jack with a workshop he was preparing. Nothing worked. They wouldn’t let her off the hook and Kezia finally called her.
“Why are you being so difficult? It means a lot to your sister for you to be there. It’s not too much to ask. She looks up to you, you’re her big sister. You should be there.”
“I’ve got a lot to do, Mom, and she knows a lot more about wedding dresses than I do. She wears them all the time.”
“This is different. This is for her wedding. You’re her maid of honor. She’s not having any bridesmaids. She doesn’t want anyone to see it except the two of us. Can’t you make the effort for her?” Her mother made Kate feel selfish and self-indulgent, and dragging her feet all the way, she agreed to go. She didn’t want to see Felicity in her grand wedding gown, bubbling over with excitement, when she couldn’t even get Jack to pick a date. Her own wedding was beginning to seem more and more remote, which she didn’t want to tell them, so, grudgingly, she agreed to go.
She took a cab uptown on the appointed morning, to see Oscar de la Renta gowns. Many of them were lacy and fabulous. Felicity chose the ones she wanted to try while Kate and Kezia stood by, waiting. She emerged from the dressing room with all the tiny buttons fastened down the back, the train stretched behind her for at least ten feet. She looked breathtaking, and Kezia had tears in her eyes as she looked at her, and Kate felt wooden as she smiled and said all the appropriate things to her sister.
They spent an hour there while she tried on different gowns and veils. She looked more and more beautiful in each one.
“I want Blake to be blown away when he sees me,” Felicity said to her sister.
“He will be,” Kate reassured her as she wondered what she’d look like in her own dress, at the small country wedding Jack said he wanted.
Felicity hadn’t found exactly what she had in mind, and they went to see the gowns at Carolina Herrera, where Felicity tried all her favorites. The second appointment took even longer. And at noon they moved on to the studio of a new, unknown designer whose designs Felicity had seen and liked. She’d modeled one in Vogue and loved it.
Their newest creation was exactly what she had said she wanted. It was a heavy satin gown, with long sleeves and bare shoulders. Felicity’s tall, perfect body looked regal in the ivory gown, with a train that stretched across the room, and a long lace panel behind her. It had a complicated system to loop it up for the reception so she could dance, and an elegant matching headpiece encrusted with tiny pearls, which sat on her blonde hair, with the veil attached. She looked truly spectacular in it as she beamed at her mother and sister. Kate was sure that Vogue would cover the splashy wedding her family was planning, with celebrities and socialites and politicians present. Between the two of them, they knew everyone. And Kate could easily envision the hundreds of guests fawning over Felicity. It was going to be a circus, but Felicity had thrown herself into it after her initial hesitation. Blake’s son, Alex, was going to be the ring bearer, and Kate her only attendant. Kezia had already decided she was going to wear midnight blue and had found the dress, by an English designer who was making it to order for her.
Kezia had already ordered the save-the-dates and the invitations. The save-the-dates were going out that week so they could get on their guests’ December calendars. The wedding was going to be held at the Frick museum, as Blake and Felicity had hoped. Kezia had scheduled appointments in September with two caterers and three wedding bakers. The details were endless, and their comments swirled around Kate until she thought she would faint and had to sit down. It was all too much for her. It made her glad that Jack didn’t want a big wedding, or maybe none at all. And Felicity’s unbridled ecstasy made it even harder to stomach. Kate could feel her resentment of her younger sister bubble up in her like lava in a volcano, and she couldn’t stand another minute of it.
Kezia could see that something was wrong and went to her while Felicity chatted with the designer. She was the most beautiful bride any of them had ever seen, which was neither surprising nor unexpected, and she knew just how to move and turn in it to best show the design of the dress.
“Are you all right?” Kezia asked Kate quietly as Kate shook her head.
“No, I’m not,” she said, looking at Felicity in all her glory. But there was an innocence to her, like a child on Christmas. This was the preview of what she hoped would be her happiest moment. “There’s something ghoulish about this,” Kate said, and everyone in the room looked shocked. She looked straight at Felicity when she spoke. “Do you have any idea how many thousands of people died in this city a few weeks ago, or were maimed for life?” Felicity looked crushed as she said it. “And you’re dancing around and preening in your wedding gown as though none of it ever happened. It’s obscene. Who cares about your wedding and how many layers of crinoline will be under the train, or how many yards of lace trailing behind you? How can you stand there looking like that, talking about the invitations and the cake, the caterer and which photographer, and what band will be playing? We’re dancing on those people’s graves and making their deaths meaningless. We’re on to the next big black-tie party. It’s a travesty,” she said angrily. Felicity was crying, and Kezia looked daggers at Kate.
“Stop it! Why are you doing this? Just to hurt your sister because she’s happy and you’re jealous of her? You have to spoil it for her, and steal her joy, so she can be as bitter and angry as you are. You have no reason to be angry, you have everything she does and more. Wearing sackcloth and ashes or refusing to pick a wedding date won’t bring those people back to life or change what happened. I was on my knees on the ground with them that night. I saw them. I held their hands while they died. This is the antidote to that. This is what living is about, living joy and being happy to make the most of life while we have it. If you need to mourn those people, and we all do, do it on your own time. Don’t use it as an excuse to spoil this moment for your sister.” Kezia was furious with Kate, and put her arms around Felicity to comfort her.
Kate’s face was ashen. She didn’t even know why she’d said it, but their mother was right. She had wanted to spoil the moment for Felicity because she was so unhappy herself, and Jack was being such a jerk and had disappointed her so totally. He couldn’t even get a ring out of a Cracker Jack box to put on her finger or pick a date to marry her. She wanted Felicity to be as miserable as she was. Kate knew she’d made a mistake trying to force him into some kind of commitment, which he had done nothing but resist ever since he had agreed to it. Unlike Blake, who was over-the-moon happy that he was marrying Felicity. Kate had just done everything she could to spoil it.
“I’m sorry,” Kate said in a choked voice. “You look beautiful,” she said to Felicity with tears welling up in her own eyes. “You’re going to be a beautiful bride.”
With her characteristic generosity, Felicity reached out and hugged her sister, and they held each other tight as they both cried, and Kate told her again how sorry she was.
“I’m sorry I was a shit. I don’t know what happened. I was overwhelmed. You didn’t kill those people. And Mom’s right, we have to go on living, and you have a right to your big fancy wedding.”
“Do you think it’s in bad taste, Mom?” Felicity looked over her shoulder at her mother.
“No, I do not,” Kezia said emphatically. “The wedding will be five months after the attack. We didn’t lose anyone in our family, thank God, and your father would want you to have the most beautiful wedding. And everyone will be happy to celebrate with you. Now take off the dress, and let’s go have lunch.” Kezia felt as though she had gone over Niagara Falls in a barrel, and Felicity disappeared to the dressing room to take off the dress, as Kezia spoke to Kate in a low voice with a stern expression.
“I don’t know what’s happening with you, but you need to deal with it before you hurt people and can’t repair it. That outburst was completely inappropriate, and you spoiled this moment for her. She doesn’t deserve that. She would never do it to you. She’s an innocent here, and what you did is uncalled for. You tried to make her feel guilty for her wedding and her joy.” Tears welled up in Kate’s eyes.
“I know, Mom, you’re right. I’m sorry. She was so happy that it made me crazy.”
“Whatever is going on with you and Jack, you’d better fix it, before you cause irreparable damage, to yourself as well as others.” It was the most intentionally vicious attack Kezia had ever seen and she was devastated that Kate had done it to Felicity.
Felicity emerged from the dressing room looking as beautiful and fresh as always. Her childlike naiveté was what was most touching about her. She was more than willing to forgive her sister for her appalling behavior. “Where are we having lunch?” she said sweetly, and smiled at them both. The last thing Kate wanted was to have lunch, but she knew she had to now. She needed to do something to make up for her outburst.
They left the studio after they placed the order for the dress, and Kezia reassured Felicity ten times that it was not disrespectful to the people who had died in the Enforcers’ attack on the Fourth of July.
They went to Harry Cipriani at the Sherry-Netherland hotel for lunch, which was fortunately loud enough that it was impossible to broach any serious subject. Kate looked morbidly depressed and barely ate. Kezia tried to calm down and picked at a salad, and Felicity attempted to keep everyone happy, and said that Blake’s son would be arriving soon and that they were excited about it.
After lunch, Felicity and Kezia went to Cartier for a final check of the invitations. Today was their wedding errand day, and Kate left them and went home to her apartment.
Jack was working on his essay for The New Yorker when she walked in, and Kate collapsed on the couch and looked at him. Sometimes when she did, he looked like a stranger to her. She thought of John Stewart asking if she loved him. Right now, she was not so sure, and there was never a simple answer to that question, and she knew there should be.
“What have you been up to?” he asked her casually.
“Buying wedding dresses,” she said simply.
“For our wedding?” He looked instantly panicked.
“No. Felicity’s. And I lost my shit at my sister and went nuts because I’m so stressed about us. If you don’t want to get married, don’t. But don’t jerk me around, tell me we’re engaged, and then refuse to pick a date or buy me even a token engagement ring.”
“You know I can’t afford one.”
“I don’t care if it’s wood or plastic. It’s a symbol.”
“Of something I don’t believe in, and you never did either, and now every time I see you for five minutes you want to pin me down for a wedding date.”
“I don’t want to pin you down, or drag you, or force you. If you don’t want to marry me, then don’t, and say so.”
“I don’t want to,” he said grudgingly, “but I will if you insist, and if it’s a prerequisite.”
“For what? Your easy life at my expense?”
“The life of a writer is never easy,” he said grandly.
“Then write something, so you have an excuse, and stop complaining about it. If you don’t love me, then why are you with me?”
“I love you. That doesn’t mean I have to marry you,” he said stubbornly.
“No, you don’t. And I don’t either. It seems like it was a bad idea.”
“I agree,” he said, looking relieved, not understanding the implications of what he had just said, or the possible end result. She was beginning to realize that John Stewart might be right. Maybe the whole last four years had been a bad idea, and she had refused to face it. “We get along, and we’re good companions, when you’re not acting crazy about a wedding. We could have a very pleasant old age together.” What he said was so pathetic it was laughable. She left the room so she didn’t have to answer him. He was his own worst enemy, and she had some serious thinking to do. The last four years had suddenly become an affront to her dignity, her heart, and her self-esteem.
When she came out of her office several hours later, he was gone. He had tutoring, and he didn’t come home until she was asleep. And he had left the apartment when she got up in the morning. She was relieved not to see him.
She tried to put a brave face on it when she met John for dinner that night, but he saw right through it.
“Wow, how are you?” he asked when she met him at the restaurant. She was happy to see him, but her spirits were in the tank and he could see that she was upset. He looked much better than he had at lunch the day after he broke up with Caroline. He’d been looking forward to dinner. They ordered wine and he waited for Kate to tell him what was going on. They had somehow inadvertently become confidantes. She felt comfortable telling him anything and being herself with him.
“I think I’m losing my mind,” she said after the first sip of wine.
“How so?” He was happy to see her, no matter how down she was.
“I went berserk at my sister yesterday and launched a nuclear attack on her when we went to try on wedding gowns.”
“Yours too?” he asked.
“No, hers. She looked incredible and I had some kind of jealous fit and was a total shit to her, and she’s the last person who I should do that to. She’s sweet to everyone. She forgave me, but I didn’t deserve it. And I think you were right about the last four years. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking. Jack and I had a huge fight about the wedding again. He doesn’t want to get married, he never did. I think I forced him. I’m not even sure why. Maybe I thought if we got married, it would turn us into a couple, which we’re not. He sees us as companions for our golden years. He doesn’t want to get married, and I don’t either now. I don’t know what I’ll tell my mother. This whole relationship has been a huge mistake since the beginning. I think I was just lonely and wanted someone to talk to, so I paid his bills. I don’t think we even like each other. I always felt lesser than because Felicity is so spectacular, and my birth father abandoned me. Now I feel better about myself, and it’s like waking up and wondering what the hell I’m doing here. And even more to the point, what the hell is he doing here?”
“At least you’re waking up,” John said calmly.
“And I’ve wasted four years of my life. I’m thirty-seven years old and I’m living with a loser who won’t even marry me.”
“Thank your lucky stars for that,” he said.
“I was never sure I wanted to get married anyway, but all of a sudden it matters, and I’m feeling old, and it’s ridiculous that he wants to say we’re engaged but doesn’t want to get married.”
To tease her, John made a point of looking at her hand to make sure there was no ring. “Ah, I see he hasn’t made it to Tiffany yet.”
“I just feel stupid. This should have ended years ago, or never started.”
“That’s how I felt about Caroline,” John said.
“Is she still contacting you?” Kate asked after they ordered dinner.
“Only the occasional nasty text. They’re shorter than her emails.” Kate laughed.
They talked about other things then, and she felt better being out and having dinner with him. He was so easy to talk to, and they got along so well. Everything wasn’t all about him, and he was interested in the book she was writing.
Halfway through dinner, he asked her if she knew what was happening between his father and her mother.
“She doesn’t talk to me about it,” Kate said. “I think they’re a little bit like kids with a crush on each other.”
“My father is very private about his life,” John said. They talked about his job investing for his clients, which sounded interesting and busy. He had a lot of responsibility for someone his age. Kate was four years older than he was, but at times he was very mature in his view of life. He said his father was his best friend, and she envied him that. She explained to him about her birth father, and the impact being rejected at birth had always had on her, and that meeting him had been interesting but somewhat disappointing. He had dedicated his life to good causes, but he wasn’t a warm person, had few, if any, regrets about abandoning her, and had never reached out. She had a deeper appreciation for her adoptive father now, having met her birth father. And she was close to her mother, but not as close as John was to Sam.
Kate realized now that her life had been dominated by Jack for four years. She wondered if he had even stifled her writing, insisting that they go to every workshop. She’d been tired of them for the past two years, and the book she was working on was going well.
The evening went by too quickly, and at the end of the meal, he asked her what she was going to do now.
“About Jack?”
He nodded.
“He made himself pretty clear last night. It’s not what I want. Married or not. I have to tell him. I feel more like his landlady than his girlfriend. I’m tired of bolstering him and propping him up about his talent, and burying mine, if I have any. I’d like to find out. What are you going to do without Caroline?”
“I have some ideas,” he said vaguely. “I need to be more careful. Women like her are dangerous. They have high, unrealistic expectations, and they don’t let go easily. I felt trapped most of the time I was with her. I dodged a bullet by not letting her move in with me. I thought I could keep the situation under control, but that’s risky. She was always fighting for more ground, ignoring what I said, and overrunning my boundaries.”
“I have to talk to Jack. It’s funny, our pseudo engagement is what finally broke our relationship.”
“So you’re not engaged anymore?” he asked her with a smile, and she held up her naked hand in answer.
“I guess I never was.”
“That’s good news,” he said, and she wondered what he meant by that. “And then what?”
“I breathe, I write, Felicity invited me to visit them in the Hamptons. Blake’s little boy will be with them in August.”
“Can I go with you sometime, for the day, I mean?” he said cautiously, and she laughed.
“I’d like that, ‘for the day.’ Of course. You can bring your new girlfriend, when you find one.” She had a feeling it wouldn’t take him long. He was very attractive and fun to be with.
“Would you ever go out with me?” he asked her, feeling like a teenager when he did, and she looked confused for a minute.
“You mean as a date?”
“Yeah, I would have asked you out if you weren’t engaged to Jack when I met you.”
“You would not.” She laughed at him. “Your eyes almost fell out of your head when you saw Felicity. I saw you.”
“That’s just window shopping. Besides, she really is engaged and she’s crazy about Blake.”
“Yes, she is. I thought at first that she’s too young to get married, but they’re good together, and he takes care of her and protects her.”
“It’s not about age, it’s about how you are together. I had fun with you that day,” he said, remembering their day at the beach.
“I’m too old for you,” she said, and brushed off his suggestion, although she thought he was very appealing. But she didn’t think it was an option. “I’m four years older than you are. You need someone younger.”
“No, I don’t. Young girls bore me. I want a grownup in my life. But not one who’s trying to take over my life. Four years is nothing. And, besides, we’re practically related. Our parents are dating each other,” John said to her.
“We don’t know that for sure, we’re guessing. They like each other.”
“I like you too,” John said openly, “if you get rid of that creep you’re not engaged to.”
“Good to know,” she said as they left the table and walked out of the restaurant. They walked slowly in the direction of her apartment, which wasn’t far. They stood outside her building for a few minutes. She was thinking about what he had said to her and wondering if he was serious.
“I am,” he said, reading her mind. He could see on her face what she was thinking. “I meant what I said,” he told her, and brushed her lips with his when he said good night. It was almost a kiss, but not quite. She let herself into the building then, and waved as the door closed, wondering what she had just done. She had almost let him kiss her. She would never have let him do that if she was still in love with Jack. Whatever happened now, or didn’t, she knew she had to end it with Jack. It was over, and had been for a long time. She just hadn’t wanted to face it. She didn’t even feel sad at the thought of breaking up with him.
She let herself into the apartment and was surprised to see him sitting on the couch, with a drink in his hand, watching TV.
“What are you doing here?” she asked him.
“Where were you?” he asked her, his eyes still on the TV screen.
“Out. We have to talk.” She sat down on the couch next to him, and he glanced at her.
“My last student canceled so I came home,” he explained, and she realized that he never kissed her hello or goodbye anymore, and hadn’t in a long time. They hadn’t made love in a couple of months. He wrote at night, and she was an early riser, so the time they spent in bed together, they were usually both sleeping.
“You need to move out,” she said in a soft voice.
“Why? Because I don’t want to marry you? Is this a ploy to force my hand?” He looked amused as he said it. He didn’t take her seriously, but she meant it.
“It’s not a ploy. I don’t want to force your hand. I just think we’re done. There’s not enough in this relationship to keep us together.”
“Are you that desperate to be married?” He looked surprised, but not very upset.
“Desperate? No. If I want kids, I should think about it. You hate the idea of marriage. If you don’t want to get married at forty-two, I think it’s a safe bet you never will. There’s no glue in this relationship to keep us together. We can’t go to writing workshops forever. You need to move out,” she said calmly, and he looked at her. It finally dawned on him that she was serious.
“I can’t move out. I can’t afford an apartment.”
“That’s not a reason to stay here. You don’t love me, and I don’t think I love you anymore.” She tried to keep it as low-key as possible, she didn’t want to fight with him.
“I do love you, and you can’t just kick me out because I didn’t buy you an engagement ring.”
“You told me last night that you didn’t want to get married and I was forcing you. I’m not forcing you, and the door is open. We’re done, or at least I am.” He had pushed her too far and presumed too much.
“Okay, so I’ll marry you,” he said grudgingly.
“That’s no longer an option,” she said clearly. “Find a place to stay. You can’t stay here. I’m sorry.” She got up and walked into her bedroom. He was sitting on the couch, staring at the TV in shock. He called after her.
“And how am I supposed to pay rent?”
“You paid rent before you met me, you can do it again. Get a job, tutor more students, teach some workshops.”
“What about my writing?” He was incensed.
“You’ll figure it out.” He had taken without giving back, and it had taken her four years to notice how little she was getting from him, and the last straw was that he barely wanted to be engaged and didn’t love her enough to marry her. That said it all. Except if it meant losing free rent. She came out of her bedroom in her pajamas and looked at him.
“I’ll sleep in my office tonight. You need to find someplace else to stay tomorrow. You can pack your things next week when I’m out, when the cleaner is here.” He stood up and stared at her then. The entire procedure had been bloodless, but he could see that she meant every word.
“Why are you being such a bitch to me?”
“I’m tired of you taking advantage of me, and not appreciating me. You’ve had a free ride, in every possible way, for a long time. I’m done.” She walked into her office and locked the door. There was a small settee she could sleep on, but she wasn’t willing to share her apartment with him after that night. She knew that he had friends he could stay with. She didn’t feel sorry for him. He approached her office door and spoke to her through the door.
“Will you pay my rent?” he asked her as she shook her head.
“No, I won’t,” she called back to him.
“I’m still willing to marry you,” he answered back, but he forgot to say “I love you.”
“I’m not willing to marry you. Good night, Jack,” she said, and heard him walk away a minute later, and then she heard her bedroom door slam.
The next morning when she got up, she saw that he had packed a bag, one of her suitcases. But she’d rather lose a bag than her freedom or her life. She knew she had made the right decision, just as John Stewart had with Caroline. Some people just didn’t deserve to be in one’s life. They were takers, not givers.
She hung around to make sure he didn’t take anything else when he left. His sense of entitlement knew no bounds. He was gone by eleven o’clock that morning. He didn’t tell her where he went and she didn’t ask him. He didn’t say goodbye, say he was sorry, or tell her he loved her. She knew now that he didn’t. She was a convenience in his life, a bank and nothing more.
She had the locks changed that afternoon, so he couldn’t let himself in, or get in when she was out. She went for a long walk that afternoon and felt proud of what she’d done. She didn’t think she’d miss him, but if she did, she knew she’d get over it. Four years had gone down the tubes, but better four than ten or twenty, or the rest of her life.