The Status of All Things (15 page)

“I just expected his thoughts to be more personal—and he’d laugh and maybe even cry as he read them, because they’d include all these nuances that maybe no one else would even understand—our little inside jokes, you know?”

“What else did he write?” My mom leans forward.

I pause, seeing his words scrawled across the page of his journal. “He said we were
built to last.
”

A look of relief passes over her face. “You are! You and Max are solid. He loves you and will take care of you—something that counts for more than you know. Honey, I think you’re putting way too much weight on this. There’s no rule book for writing vows. You just express what’s in your heart. And whatever you read—that’s what’s in his.”

Maybe that’s the problem. There doesn’t seem to be much in there.

“Wasn’t he also supposed to actually vow something?” I ask. He hadn’t promised anything.

“Like what? To love you in sickness and health?” She laughs, throwing her head back like she’s just delivered a hysterical joke. “I’ve taken care of you after you got food poisoning—you’re not exactly a model patient!”

I roll my eyes. “Let’s change the subject,” I say, stabbing my eggs with my fork and ignoring my mom’s look as I sprinkle them with salt. “What about you?”

“What about me?” She pops a blueberry into her mouth.

“Do you ever think about getting back out there?”

“Please.” She shakes her head forcefully. “I’m perfectly fine on my own.” She arches an eyebrow, which reveals no wrinkles in her forehead, the skin tight from her last Botox injection.

“Are you though?” I press, and watch her fidget in her chair. She’s never been one to delve into emotionally heavy topics, preferring to keep the conversation more superficial, much like her Facebook feed.
This is wonderful! Look at me! I’m so happy!
But in person, I could easily detect the underlying sadness in her that often bordered on bitterness.

“Will you stop—of course I am! I’m retired and living quite well after some savvy stock market investments. Thank you, Google!” She laughs. “Not to mention, I’m in the best shape of my life. Have you seen these guns?” She curls her bicep. “But most importantly, I’ve got you. What more could I possibly need?”

Love? Happiness that’s real, not manufactured?

“What if the perfect man came into your life? Wouldn’t you be open to the possibility of a relationship?”

My mom’s eyes mist with tears, but she looks away quickly, and when her gaze returns to me, she’s composed again. “After the broken heart I suffered, I prefer a life where my happiness isn’t up to someone else.”

“I’m not saying you have to get married again, Mom—or even fall in love—but you’re not even up for having coffee with someone?” I ask, thinking that I could wish for her to meet a nice guy—to give her what I know she’s just too scared to do on her own.

“It’s never just coffee, honey,” she says, shaking her head. “Now back to you. You’ve got a great thing with Max—a guy that a thousand women would line up around the block to be with. The romance and the fire and all that stuff you wish he’d written in his vows—those aren’t the things that ensure you’ll grow old together. Just because he’s not Robert Frost doesn’t mean he’s not the right guy for you. Learn from my mistakes, Kate. Don’t
take your relationship for granted, because one day he could be gone. Or worse, he could end up in the arms of someone else.”

The truth of her words strikes me hard. I think of Courtney and her
big day
at Max’s company. Her new job that I’m indirectly
or directly
responsible for, despite my best efforts to keep her away from Max. My mom was right, I needed to hang on to him. But I couldn’t get the word Ruby had used out of my mind—
fate
. Because what I really needed to know was why the universe had sent me on this journey in the first place—and there was really only one way to find out. I had to stop using magic and let fate take its course—no matter what the outcome.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“What the hell?” I say as Liam pulls up to the curb in a jet black convertible Porsche.

“What?” he says with a broad smile as I slide into the passenger seat. “It’s just a car.”

“What happened to Frank?” I ask, referring to the white Ford Explorer I had helped him pick out and name almost ten years ago. “Frank Ford” had always had a special place in my heart, never so much as blinking a headlight when I threw up all over his backseat after my twenty-fifth birthday party in Venice Beach.

“Don’t worry, Frankie is just fine—he’s resting comfortably in my garage. This baby is just a loaner.”

“Let me guess. From Nikki?” I blanch as I say her name. Had she made Liam feel like Frank Ford wasn’t good enough to be seen in? I feel offended for Frank
and
Liam.

Liam gives me a sideways look as he pulls into traffic, cutting off a large SUV and accelerating into the left turn lane for the freeway. I had called him for a ride home after Max had taken my car this morning. I had been hoping Max would check in to see if I had found his keys, but I hadn’t heard from
him all day, causing my imagination to run wild about what was going on between him and Courtney at work. On a seemingly endless loop, images of the two of them flirting flashed through my mind. I saw Max
accidentally
brushing Courtney’s arm and feeling an electric pulse shoot through him as he guided her down the narrow hallway to the conference room where she’d meet the others on the creative team. I pictured her making excuses to stop by his office to find out where she could stock up on staplers and hole punches. I could even see Max lingering in her doorway, then casually inviting her to lunch at his favorite bistro just around the corner. Finally, when I couldn’t take it anymore, I’d closed my office door, squeezed my eyes shut until darkness enveloped me, and yelled, “Stop!” at the top of my lungs

“I thought you’d be happy. If I recall, you’re the one who set this whole relationship in motion,” Liam says, raising his voice over the sounds of the freeway. I grab my hair and twist it into a braid to block the wind’s effect.

“I’m sorry,” I say, boosting my voice to match his. “I am happy for you. I just don’t want her to change you.”

“To
charge
me?” he asks, an incredulous look spreading across his face. “Why would she
charge
me? She’s not a prostitute!”

“
Change
you!” I yell as we pass a semi, the exhaust from its tailpipe stinging my nostrils. “Like this!” I spread my arms wide. “Speeding down the 405 in a flashy sports car? Screaming at each other over the motorcycles and trucks? This isn’t you! You don’t even like sitting on the patio at the Newsroom Cafe! Because too many cars pass by on Robertson!”

Liam says nothing as he navigates off the freeway, pulling over onto a side street and pressing a button that efficiently brings the top up around us. “Do you really think driving a
Porsche for a few days is going to change me, Kate? You think I’m that shallow?”

“No, of course not,” I say with my head down. “It’s just, look at you—four-hundred-dollar Gucci sunglasses and, wait, is that a Chanel shirt?” I ask, remembering the Calvin Klein model wearing a similar one when he came into the office. “And you showed up in my Facebook feed today—on the
Us Weekly
page! They were asking everyone what they thought of Nikki’s new ‘man candy’! How can you say this relationship, as you call it, isn’t changing you?” I think about the women in my office who had swooned over the picture of Liam online, me shaking my head as I pored over the comments on that post instead of the mound of paperwork that had piled up in Courtney’s absence, each sexual remark about his good looks making me more uncomfortable than the last. When I had made this wish for Liam, I hadn’t considered the impact it might have on him or our friendship. If I had, I might not have gone through with it.

Liam puts the car into gear and takes a sharp right at the corner toward my house. “Listen, I get how all this looks, but I’m not the one who’s doing the changing.” He gives me a pointed look.

“What is
that
supposed to mean?” I ask.

“You know exactly what it means.”

“I’m not making
that
many changes,” I argue.

“Oh, really? Then please tell me how that hideous ensemble I’m supposed to wear to the wedding arrived at my house yesterday? The Kate I know wouldn’t make her worst male enemy wear linen!”

It was true—I had shipped Liam’s new best man outfit to his house because I couldn’t face him. I had written
Wearing this without question will be considered payment for “setting you up”
with Nikki
on a yellow Post-it, but knew I was going to catch shit for it anyway. “It’s just a pair of pants and a shirt. I’m just trying to show Max I’m trying. That I care.”

Liam parks the car in front of my condo and turns to me, his eyes suddenly softer. “I know how much you want this, so I’m going to cut you some slack. But please, remember something.”

“What?” I say, surprised to see two silhouettes through the sheer drapes hanging from my front window.

“If he doesn’t want you exactly the way you are, is he really worth having?”

“Spoken by the man in the two-thousand-dollar Chanel shirt.” I laugh quietly, but Liam doesn’t join me.

“I’m serious, Kate. This isn’t a game. This is the rest of your life we’re talking about.”

“Point taken,” I say as I lean over and kiss his cheek. “Thank you. For the advice and the ride.”

“You’re welcome. And just so you know, Jules and I are not changing a damn thing about your bachelorette party next weekend, and won’t be making you sport some ugly-ass Hawaiian getup—even though it is very, very tempting!” He laughs before adding, “Unless it involves a short straw skirt. Hmm . . . maybe that’s exactly what we should do.” He winks.

“Not likely.” I smile. I had been so consumed with all the changes for the wedding I had totally forgotten that my bachelorette party was only a week away. My last one had been such a blast. I had felt so happy as Jules, Courtney, Liam, and I danced the night away, the cheesy veil they snapped into my hair swinging around me like a gymnast’s ribbon. I try not to think about what it will feel like this time as we celebrate something that might not happen alongside the person who wants to take it all away from me.

I step out of the car and wave to Liam as he speeds off to dinner with Nikki, an event that will no doubt be chronicled online tonight by TMZ. Before he drove away, he invited me to a
Los Angeles
magazine party in Nikki’s honor the week before the wedding. “I’ll come if you promise to wear a shirt that costs less than my wedding dress,” I had joked, blowing a kiss in his direction as he deliberately gunned the accelerator pedal.

I open the door quietly, still wondering who is inside with Max. I catch my breath as I see him and Courtney cracking open a bottle of champagne in the kitchen, Max motioning the bottle toward Courtney and acting like he’s going to shoot the cork at her. I knew this joke well. He had done the same thing to me the night we got engaged.

I drop my bag on the table to alert them to my presence, and they both look up at the same time. I search their faces for deception, guilt,
anything
that will tell me what’s really going on between them, but I see nothing. Max doesn’t jump away from her like he’s doing something wrong, and she holds my gaze as she walks over, gives me a tentative hug, and tells me I’m just in time to toast with them.

“What are we toasting?” I ask through gritted teeth, suddenly remembering the last time Courtney was here, just a few nights before the wedding. I’d invited her over, ironically, to celebrate. We’d just landed a new client and I’d splurged on a bottle of wine that we’d shared while talking for hours on the patio. As I look back now, it’s surprising that Courtney never seemed
off
or like her mind was elsewhere. Max had gone for a late run and had come out to say hello, shirtless and sweaty, just as Courtney was leaving. “It’s pretty dark out there, let me walk you out,” Max had suggested, and I’d been proud to be engaged to such a gentleman. I’d hugged Courtney tightly and smiled as she and
Max disappeared through the front door. As I got ready for bed, my body tingling from the wine and feeling thankful that I had such a great friend and fiancé, had they been outside planning their future?

“Courtney’s first day—it went really well!” Max answers, and suddenly it’s clear why I never heard from him all day. He was too busy picking out champagne at the corner liquor store with Courtney. “She even wooed Ernie!” he says with a laugh, referring to the notoriously prickly CEO.

“Fantastic,” I say halfheartedly as Max fills another flute and hands it to me. “Where did you find your keys?” I ask, pointing to where they are sitting on the counter.

“Oh, I’m so stupid. They were actually in my messenger bag the whole time!” He looks at Courtney and they laugh together as if they’re sharing an inside joke, and I imagine him telling her the story as they sipped their coffee in the break room, Courtney batting her eyelashes and giggling at his forgetfulness. “Sorry, honey,” he adds, almost as an afterthought.

“No problem,” I repeat limply. “Liam gave me a ride home,” I add, to no one in particular.

“Oh, good,” Max says breezily, clinking Courtney’s glass and then mine. I take a seat at the counter and listen as they regale me with every story of the day, from the way Courtney’s new boss kept calling her Cathy to the food truck that had pulled up outside their office building with the most
mouthwatering
Kobe beef sliders you’ve ever tasted. I nod my head at the right intervals and try not to hyperventilate. I had caused this. I tried to tear them apart, but instead I had brought them even closer together. It seemed the more I tried to hold on to Max, the further he was slipping away, like a thread that continued to unravel. And, as I observe Courtney and Max laughing about a painful
regulatory meeting they had suffered through, it’s becoming harder to believe that they weren’t going to end up together. Perhaps this was why people wouldn’t want to know when they were going to die. Because how could you truly live knowing the end was coming?

Several glasses of champagne later, Courtney finally heads home, but not before Max offers to carpool with her the next day. “Lovely,” I say under my breath as they debate whose iPod they are going to listen to.

“So you like having Courtney at work?” I state the obvious as we head upstairs to our bedroom, Max taking the steps two at a time like a schoolboy.

“Of course,” he says innocently. “You know that better than anybody. Aren’t you the one that used to say she was the only thing that made your job bearable?”

Yes. That was true. But that was before she blew up my life and took you with it.

“Oh, yeah, she’s great,” I say, trying to hold back the sarcasm that’s been bubbling just beneath the surface all night.

“What’s going on with you?” Max sits down on the bed. “You seem annoyed. Is this because I didn’t pick you up from work?”

I sit next to him and grab his hand. “No, although that would have been nice.”

“I’m sorry. I guess I never really worry about you that way.”

“What does that mean?”

“I mean, you’re probably the most independent girl I’ve ever met,” he says. “Sometimes I’m not even sure that you need me.” He laughs, but his eyes are full of questions.

My pulse quickens. Had I made Max feel like I didn’t rely on him? I tighten my grip on his hand. “I do need you. More than you know,” I finish, a tear escaping from the corner of my eye
as I think about the way he had been
so willing
to walk away from me.

Max wipes the tear from my cheek. “You know, you could have just asked me to come get you. And I didn’t mean anything by the independent thing. I was just saying that I knew you’d find a ride home. That’s all.”

“Are you sure?” I ask. “Because, Max, I want you to know, you can tell me anything. Even if you think it will hurt me. Let’s get it all out into the open now, before the wedding.”

Max pauses and I can almost see the wheels in his head turning. I imagine him starting to feel the buds of something with Courtney, but he’s telling himself that it doesn’t mean anything. He shakes his head slowly at me, probably squelching the little tweak in his heart he feels when he’s with her, deciding it isn’t worth throwing everything we have away—yet.

“Maybe it will be good for us to get away to Big Bear this weekend?” I ask hopefully. The words
I feel like I’m losing you
sit at the tip of my tongue, but I’m too afraid to say them out loud. Here I am, sitting with the man I love, the one I’m supposed to marry, the rest of my life hanging in the balance, and I can’t say those simple words—too paralyzed by fear to ask Max how far he’s slipped from my grasp. To discover if he even wants me to try to pull him back up. Instead I bury my head deep in his neck, hoping he’ll hear the words in my heart that I can’t say out loud.

“Yes,” he finally says. “It will be good for us.”