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  “Erin,” Paige is calling to me. “Come help me with this.”

  And that’s how the morning starts and keeps on going — Paige calling the shots and me answering. By one o’clock we have ourselves and our mother pretty much together, and we’re actually not feeling too stressed. Mom looks elegant in her satin dress and pearls, her hair swept up in a French twist, her makeup done perfectly by Paige.

  “The limo will be here in about ten minutes,” Paige tells Mom.

  “A limo?” Mom blinks.

  Paige grins. “You bet. We are going out in style.”

  I’m opening the chilled sparkling cider that Paige insisted we must use to toast with before leaving the condo. I fill three champagne glasses, hand one each to Mom and Paige, then start the first toast.

  “Here’s to the best mom ever,” I say, “and to all the good times we’ve had together. And here’s to many, many more!”

  We clink glasses and sip, and then Paige makes a toast. “Here’s to a great marriage with a great guy.” She winks at Mom. “And to a great honeymoon!”

  “That reminds me,” I say suddenly, “I was supposed to have your bags at the door for the driver to take down. Are they in your room, Mom?”

  “Wait,” Mom says. “I need to make my toast.”

  So I pause as Mom raises her glass. “Here’s to the two best daughters any mother could ever want. Here’s to your careers and your futures. May they be as bright and beautiful as you two are.”

  We have a group hug and try not to cry. The next thing we know, the driver is knocking on the door and we’re scrambling to get Mom’s bags and gathering up the miscellaneous things that need to go to the rose garden with us. Finally we’re almost out the door, but Mom stops, takes one last look inside the condo—almost as if seeing if for the last time—then closes and locks the door.

  “It’s the beginning of a new era,” she says in a serious tone.

  Then to brighten the mood, I begin to sing “Here Comes the Bride,” and Paige joins in as we troop down the stairs in our wedding garb. But as we’re getting into the white limo, I see tears in my mother’s eyes. So Paige and I make small talk as we ride. Paige talks about details in regard to the wedding. I tell Mom about some of my favorite spots in Paris, although I’ve already written them down for her. I think we’re mostly just trying to fill the air, keeping things light and happy. I know I’m having a hard time holding back the tears.

  But once we’re at the garden, we’re distracted with getting ready, and soon the ceremony begins. The wedding goes fairly smoothly, thanks, I’m sure, to Paige’s meticulous planning. It is so beautiful in the rose garden. My mom was right to pick this place. The roses are in full bloom and the golden afternoon sunlight filtering through the trees is magical. And when I see Jon slip the ring onto Mom’s finger and look into her eyes with that expression of pure devotion on his face, I feel sure she’s in good hands.

  Then I see Mom’s face, just before they kiss, and she looks radiantly joyful. That’s when I give up trying to hold back my tears. Paige and I are both crying, but they’re happy tears. Mom has had so much sadness in her life that it would be impossible not to be glad for her now. I even think my dad is happy, and I feel him with us.

  After the wedding and some photos in the rose garden, the wedding party relocates to the hotel where the reception is being held in a ballroom. Although the wedding was small and intimate, and I think absolutely perfect, Paige convinced Mom to invite more guests to the reception—as well as to pull out all the stops. And when Mom protested that it would be too expensive, Paige and I offered to cover the expenses. It’s not every day that daughters get to pay for their mom’s wedding reception.

  I’ll admit that I wasn’t too thrilled about this reception idea at first, mostly because Mom had been dragging her heels, but now that we’re here and I see all these people together—all of Jon’s and Mom’s TV industry friends, plus ones that Paige and I invited, as well as old friends and family—I realize this is one fun group of people.

  Blake is keeping his word by pretending to be “with” me. We sit side by side at the main table, smiling and acting congenial, but in reality we are barely speaking. We’re like actors playing roles, and I can tell he’s not enjoying it any more than I am. Then, after toasts are made and food is served, the dancing begins. Paige worked it all out: Mom and Jon dance to “The Way You Look Tonight,” which is so romantic. After that song ends Jon invites Paige to dance, and Mom invites Jon’s only son, Robert, to dance. Then they break midway and Jon asks me to dance. Meanwhile Paige asks Dylan. By the third song, I’m expected to ask Blake to dance, so I do.

  “Thank you for cooperating with this,” I say to him with a stiff smile.

  “You’re welcome.” He matches my smile with one that’s equally stiff.

  “You’re a good sport and I appreciate it.”

  He just nods.

  “And if you want to take off early, I’ll understand.”

  He gives me a curious look. “So … are you asking me to leave?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “But you’d rather I wasn’t here.”

  “I didn’t say that, Blake.”

  “You didn’t have to.”

  We continue to dance in silence now. I’m so frustrated I can’t even think of anything to say. Part of me wants to ask him why he is acting like such a jerk. Another part wants to tell him I’m sorry. Instead, I do nothing. When the music ends, Blake formally thanks me for the dance, makes an elaborate bow, and walks out of the ballroom. I glance around to see if anyone witnessed our mini drama, but thankfully everyone seems more interested in their own dramas … or rather, romances.

  Mom and Jon are dancing again, and Paige is cheek to cheek with Dylan. Even my grandma and her boyfriend are cutting the rug. Yes, I feel a little left out, but since this is my mom’s big day, I am determined not to give in to self-pity. That’s when I remember Mollie. It’s not like she has a date today either. I look around the room until I spot her sitting along the sidelines with an older woman that I don’t recognize.

  “How’s it going?” I ask her.

  She points to her plate. “The food’s good.” Then she introduces me to Jon’s Aunt Betty from Utah. But after a few minutes of small talk, Aunt Betty excuses herself to go to “the little girls’ room.”

  “Guess it’s just you and me,” I say to Mollie. I laugh and start singing, “Just Mollie and me, and baby makes three, so happy are we—”

  “Yeah, yeah,” she interrupts. “Real funny, Erin.”

  “Sorry, I couldn’t resist.”

  “You look really pretty.” She points to my dress. “That color looks good on you.”

  “Thanks.”

  “And the wedding was really beautiful.” She sighs and rubs her tummy. “If I ever get married, I want to do it in a rose garden too.”

  “I know. The light was so gorgeous, I was actually wishing for my camera during the ceremony.”

  “So what’s up with Blake?” Mollie looks around the room. “Is he still here?”

  “I think he left.” I let out an exasperated sigh.

  “What happened?”

  I tell her the short story and she just shakes her head. “I guess that proves you don’t love him after all.”

  “What do you mean?” I demand. “How would that short conversation prove anything?”

  “I mean, why do you think Blake asked if you wanted him to leave?”

  I shrug.

  “That was his way of asking you to beg him to stay.”

  “I don’t think so, Mollie.”

  “You are so dense.”

  “Thanks.”

  Mollie pushes herself to her feet.

  “Are you going to dance?” I ask.

  She laughs sarcastically. “Yeah, I’m going to waltz all the way to the restroom.”

  “Maybe you can tango with Aunt Betty in there,” I tease. After she’s gone, I start to feel conspicuous sitting
here by myself. Something about being a bridesmaid alone on the sidelines feels a little embarrassing. I look around for someone else to talk to and spot Fran on the other side of the room. Like me, she is alone.

  I go over and sit down by her. “How’s it going?”

  She sighs. “I was actually thinking about making a getaway, but I came with Helen and Frank and they’re out there doing the boogie-woogie.”

  I laugh. “The boogie-woogie?”

  She makes a weary smile.

  “So why don’t you grab a taxi and go home?” I suggest. “I can make up some excuse to Helen for you.”

  She looks relieved. “Would you mind?”

  “Not at all.”

  “I actually have a date.”

  I blink. “A date tonight?”

  “It’s tomorrow. But it’s a morning date so I need to get up early.”

  “A breakfast date?” I frown at her. “Who with?”

  “Chemo.” She reaches for her purse.

  “Oh … does anyone go with you?” I ask.

  “You mean to hold my hand?” She’s standing now, unsteadily. For a moment she teeters and I worry she might fall over.

  “Yeah.” I nod as I stand and link arms with her.

  “No …”

  I give her a cheesy smile, in case anyone is watching us, then walk her out of the ballroom and to the elevators.

  “I wish I could go with you,” I say as I walk her through the lobby. “I really think you should have someone there.”

  “It’s okay. I’m fine. I’m used to being on my own.”

  “Don’t you have any family around?”

  “No. They’re all back East.”

  “Any good friends?”

  She turns and looks at me with sad eyes. “When you marry your job, you tend to lose your friends.”

  We’re outside now, and I ask the doorman to call her a taxi. “Well, I’m your friend,” I tell her as the taxi whips up. “And if it wasn’t my mom’s wedding, I’d go with you right now to make sure you got home safely.”

  “Thanks, Erin. I appreciate it. But, really, I’m fine.”

  I watch as the taxi leaves. And, as bad as I feel about Blake, it’s hard to feel sorry for myself in comparison to Fran.

  I return to the reception wearing my happy face. I mix with the crowd, visit with old friends and family, meet some of Jon’s relatives, dance with Mollie, and finally make an excuse for Fran to Helen. “She forgot she had a date at five,” I tell Helen.

  “A date?” Helen looks interested. “With whom?”

  “Someone with a Hawaiian name,” I say. “Like Kimo or Nimo, I think.”

  Helen chuckles. “Who knew?”

  Finally the reception crowd starts to thin and it’s just close family and friends, visiting and finishing off the champagne. Then it’s time for the happy couple to leave for the airport.

  We all go down and, instead of throwing the bouquet, which seems silly since there are only a few of us left, Mom hands it to Paige. Then she kisses us, and she and Jon get into the limo and take off.

  “Wow.” Paige shakes her head. “It’s over.”

  Dylan puts his arm around her waist, pulling her close and pointing to the bouquet in her hands. “That one’s over, but this one is just beginning.”

  She giggles then turns to me. “Hey, where’s Blake? Dylan and I wanted to take you guys to dinner. I already made reservations.”

  “Blake had to go check on something,” I say offhandedly. “Why don’t just the two of you go out tonight?”

  Paige smiles at Dylan. “I guess we could do that.”

  He grins back and I can tell there will be no argument.

  “Do you have a way home?” she asks me.

  I nod. As they go their way, I ask the doorman to call me a taxi. The older man smiles as he waves a car over. “Such a pretty young woman riding alone on a Saturday night.” He makes a tsk-tsk sound. “It’s like that old line.”

  “What line?” I venture.

  “Youth. It’s wasted on the young.”

  I laugh and thank him. As I get into the taxi I consider his words. I also wonder if perhaps I am fated to be alone. Perhaps there’s some personality flaw that I’m unaware of that is unraveling my relationships. Not that I’ve had so many relationships, but it seems that whenever a guy gets even slightly serious about me, I push him away. I’ve heard about people, usually guys, who are afraid of commitment. I wonder if I might have that problem myself.

  But as I pay the driver for my ride, I think that I’m being ridiculous. Good grief, I’m barely nineteen and here I am worried about being single for the rest of my life. Seriously, that is so messed.

  As I go into the condo, very aware that Mom is gone—really gone—and that Paige is out with her fiancée, I feel very alone. I’m tempted to call Blake and apologize. But for what? I’m not even sure.

  Instead I take off my dress and put on comfy sweats and tell myself to just enjoy this—I have the condo to myself. I can turn up the music loud, or watch any movie I like. I could even take off my clothes and dance naked. Okay, I wouldn’t want to do that. But all I can think about is how lonely I feel.

  I look at the clock and see that it’s just a little past seven. I imagine everyone else is out having a great time. Yes, I know that’s not true, but it’s how it feels. I remind myself that Mollie went home from the reception with swollen feet and a plan to take a bath and go to bed early. And then there’s Fran …

  I grab my phone and call her number. As it rings, I get ready to leave a message, but then she answers. “Fran?” I say eagerly. “How are you?”

  “I … uh … I’m okay.”

  “Really? No ill effects from your chemo?”

  “Just the usual stuff.”

  “Do you want any company?”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah. The truth is, I’m feeling lonely. Paige and Dylan went out. Mom and Jon are on their way to Paris.”

  “You know I’m not good company …”

  “I know.”

  “You’re welcome to come over.”

  “Are you hungry for anything? Like frozen yogurt? Or whatever?”

  “You know what sounds good, Erin? Pad Thai.”

  “Pad Thai? Like the noodles?”

  “Yes. For some reason, that sounds good.”

  “Pad Thai is on the way.” I call in an order to a nearby Thai restaurant, gather up some overnight things, write Paige a note, and head out.

  It’s not that I’m helping Fran just to make myself feel better, although I’ll admit that in some twisted way her health challenges make my problematic personal life seem trifling. I’m helping Fran because I know she needs it. And because it’s the right thing to do.

  Chapter

  9

  When I come home from fran’s place the following afternoon, I know I’ve made a big mistake. Not in helping Fran, because she was so sick I have no idea what she would’ve done without me. No, my mistake has to do with Paige. And Dylan. Somehow, it seems they’ve gotten the idea that it’s okay for Dylan to stay in the condo this week.

  “It’s no big deal,” Paige assures me when I notice the signs that Dylan did indeed spend the night last night.

  “It’s a big deal to me,” I tell her. “This is my home too. You can’t go moving your boyfriend in — ”

  “He’s my fiancée, Erin. We are going to be married.”

  “But you are not married now.” I glance toward the bathroom where Dylan is showering. “And Mom would not approve.”

  “Mom doesn’t live here anymore. Remember?”

  “Paige, this is just unfair.”

  “Erin.” She’s using her big-sister voice now. “I know you’re very conservative about these things and I respect that. But we are not the same and — ”

  “That’s for sure!”

  “And I would appreciate it if you would respect that we’re different.”

  I press my lips together. “This is just
wrong, Paige.”

  She nods. “Yes, it would be wrong for you. But it’s right for me.”

  I want to scream now. I want to pull out my hair and scream. Why does she not get this? This is my home. She is bringing in a guy without even caring how I feel about it. This is so wrong! Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

  “By the way, Erin …” She looks at me curiously. “Where did you spend the night last night?”

  “Huh?”

  She holds up the note I left her yesterday, informing her that I was visiting a friend. “Who did you spend the night with?” She gives me a very suspicious look.

  Now I feel trapped. How can I possibly explain that I spent the night at Fran’s without giving Fran’s secret away?

  “And I know you weren’t at Mollie’s, because she called this morning, wanting to know if you were picking her up for church or not.”

  “Oh … church.” I nod, remembering now that it’s Sunday, and while I was cleaning up vomit from Fran’s hallway carpet, church was in session.

  “So my guess is you were with Blake.” She makes a catty smile. “I have no idea what you and Blakey-Boy were up to all night, but I have to say I’m surprised. I thought you didn’t approve of that sort of thing.”

  “For your information, Blake and I broke up.”

  She blinks. “Seriously?”

  And now, whether it’s fatigue or stress or real sadness, I begin to cry.

  “I’m sorry, Erin.” She hugs me. “I didn’t realize you guys broke up.”

  “I didn’t want Mom to know,” I sob out. “I didn’t want to worry her just as she was going on her honeymoon.”

  “Was it a mutual breakup?” she asks as she goes to the kitchen and gestures for me to come along.

  “I’m not even sure,” I confess, following her. “I mean, it happened so quickly.”

  “Was it at the wedding reception?” She fills a glass of water. “I saw you two dancing and then I didn’t see Blake again.” She hands the water to me with a sympathetic expression.

  I can only nod as I take a sip.