Three Girls And A Leading Man Part 18

When we were done, Nate went to the kitchen to make us some cocoa. He joined me on the couch a few minutes later with a mug for each of us, and a plate of cookies. "Those look homemade," I told him, already imagining him in a frilly ap.r.o.n whipping up a batch of cookies.

"You can stop that right now," he said, as if reading my mind. "My mom sent these this morning."

He turned all the lamps off in the apartment so the only light was coming from the tree. You could barely tell we had phoned it in with the strings of lights; with the ornaments on, the tree looked perfect.

"Come here," Nate said, pulling me against him on the couch. I snuggled against his chest, subconsciously finding the now familiar place where I fit perfectly.

"Thank you for doing this with me," he whispered, kissing the top of my head.

"Thank you for making me," I told him.

"You had fun, didn't you?" he asked. I couldn't see his face, but I could tell that he was smiling.

"Yeah," I whispered. "I had a lot of fun."

We stayed like that for a long time, sitting in front of the tree with the music playing softly, Nate's arms around me. I snuggled closer to him, feeling happy. Feeling so happy that it scared me.

Chapter Twenty-three.

*Are you the type of girl who always puts her girlfriends first? While those relations.h.i.+ps should be precious to you, it is essential that you learn to put your man first. No self-respecting gentleman wants to play second fiddle to your female friends!'-The Single Girl's Guide to Finding True Love "Nate, it's Annie," I said after Nate's voicemail had picked up. "Listen, I know we had talked about hanging out tonight, but I have to cancel. Jen and Ginny both have the morning off tomorrow, which never happens. So we're going out tonight. Sorry, babe. I'll make it up to you, okay? Call me."

I hung up, feeling a slight twinge of regret. Since the show had started its run, I was pretty tied up most weekends. With Nate working late most weeknights, we weren't seeing each as much as we would have liked.

But I hadn't seen the girls in even longer, so it was really no contest.

Ginny came over to get ready with us, and it was almost like old times. Tina had already moved out, and it was feeling more like our house again. I was determined to enjoy it until Matt moved in.

I had agreed to Jen's plan, feeling like I didn't really have much choice. It didn't seem ideal for me, but what could I do? Tell Jen no, we needed to find another roommate? What if she decided she wanted to live with Matt more than me? What would I do then?

Besides, if the show did end up going to Chicago, I wouldn't be around for awhile. And I couldn't leave Jen in the lurch like that. So Matt had begun the process of buying the house from our landlord, who was happy enough to get it off his hands in this market. They were closing in two weeks.

I tried to push all of that out of my mind, though. Tonight was girls' night, and I was really excited.

"What do you think about this?" Ginny asked, coming out of the bathroom in a flowing, frumpy prairie dress.

"Where the h.e.l.l did you get that thing?" I asked her.

"It was in your closet," she responded.

I squinted at it, and in fact did remember buying it last summer. But I usually wore it with a scarf belted around the waist, to make it look less...voluminous. And I certainly never wore it with a cardigan, the way Ginny was now.

"It's not really you, Gin," I told her, struggling to be polite and wis.h.i.+ng Jen would hurry up and get out here. She was much better at this type of thing. I was more likely to tell Ginny that she looked ridiculous.

"I just feel like all of my clothes are too immature," she said, sighing. "I still dress like I'm in college. I mean, I'm a mom now. Shouldn't I be dressing like it?"

"Okay, who the h.e.l.l are you and what did you do with my best friend?" I asked, unable to play polite anymore. Ginny was the most fas.h.i.+on-conscious girl I knew. Her favorite pastime in the world was to troll through sample sales and resale stores to get her hands on designer stuff that fit her budget. She didn't dress s.l.u.tty, but she did like to show off her figure-and I couldn't blame her there.

"Josh's mom said something to me," she said, walking into my room and flopping down on the bed."

"Mrs. Stanley?" I asked, feeling angry at the very mention of her name. That woman had very nearly ruined Ginny's life, not to mention Danny's.

"She was over yesterday; they'd been on vacation and she wanted to drop off some presents for Josh and Danny. Anyhow, she gave me this frumpy old sweats.h.i.+rt from Miami Beach. I mean, who goes to Miami and comes back with a sweats.h.i.+rt?"

"Evil old hags," I said, eager for her to get to the juicy part.

"Yeah, you're telling me. So basically after she gives it to me she looks me over, totally judgmental, and says something about how she thought of me when she saw it because she figured I'd be grateful for something more appropriate."

"G.o.d, what a b.i.t.c.h," I said. "Where was Josh when this was going on?"

"Outside with his dad, looking at his car. He's been having carburetor trouble."

"Did you tell him what she said?"

Ginny just shrugged. "He would only get mad. Their relations.h.i.+p is bad enough as it is."

Josh, to his credit, had not forgiven his parents for their meddling. They rarely saw them, and I knew Ginny felt guilty about this.

"Virgina McKensie, it is not your fault that his mother is a horrible witch," I said firmly. "Don't you go feeling guilty for what she did. And for G.o.d's sake, don't listen to a word she says. She's just jealous that she's a dried-up old hag while you're still hot, even after having a baby. So screw her, okay?"

"You're right," Ginny said, giving me a watery little smile. "I just don't want to embarra.s.s Danny when he gets bigger. I don't want to be one of those middle-aged women who still think they're teenagers."

"When you start wearing tube tops to the playground I promise I'll put a stop to it, okay?"

"Deal," she said.

"Now please, take that dress off and throw it away. I can never look at it the same way again."

In the end, Ginny picked a black tank top dotted with sequins. She paired it with a pair of tight boot-cut jeans and tall black heels. Needless to say, she was a total knockout-and not the least bit inappropriate.

"You look great," she said, looking me over.

My tastes were a bit more eclectic than my friends, and I had settled on a vintage sixties-style dress that I had ordered online. It was very mod and I loved it.

"I feel dressed down next to the two of you," Jen said once she'd joined us, looking down at her black pants and white b.u.t.ton-up top.

"Add some jewelry," Ginny advised, apparently over her fas.h.i.+on crisis and ready to be our guru again. "That will dress it up. And for G.o.d's sake, unb.u.t.ton a few of those b.u.t.tons."

We ended up at a Mexican restaurant that we all liked. They served huge margaritas (the basis of their appeal) and kept free refills coming on their homemade tortillas and salsa.

"So, only two more weeks of the run," Jen said after she had sampled her margarita. "Are you sad or relieved?"

"I guess that depends on what happens next," I said.

"Still no word on Chicago?"

"Only rumors," I said. "Nothing will happen until after Christmas, so I'm trying not to think about it too much."

"What does Nate think?" Ginny asked casually.

"We haven't really talked about," I said, shrugging.

"Don't you think you should?" she pressed.

"Why?"

"Well, don't you want to know where you stand?"

"Ginny," I said, sighing. "Why do we have to keep having this conversation? I know where I stand. We have fun together and we like to spend time together. Nothing more, nothing less. Why is that so hard for you to understand?"

"Because I know you," she said, her voice suddenly firm. "Better than just about anyone. So I can tell when you're spouting bulls.h.i.+t."

I stared at her. Where had that come from?

"I would rather not talk about this anymore," I said flatly.

"Too bad," she said. "Because I want to."

"Okay, girls," Jen said wearily. She'd had many years of experience diffusing mine and Ginny's bickering. We were best friends and we loved each other to death, but we'd also known each other since we were five. A bit of bickering was only to be expected, I guess. "Let's order first, and then we can choose a topic, okay?"

I looked down at my menu, feeling irritated with Ginny for reasons I couldn't really put into words. I knew that she loved me and had my best interests at heart, but it really bugged me when she acted like she knew what I was feeling better than I did.

After our waitress took our order, Ginny leaned back in her chair. "Look," she said. "I didn't mean to p.i.s.s you off. I just don't understand why you feel like you can't be honest about this kind of stuff with us."

"Are you calling me a liar now?" I asked, color flooding my cheeks.

She just rolled her eyes at me. "Stop being a drama queen," she scoffed. "All I'm saying is you seem to be terrified to tell us that you have feelings for someone, even when we all can see that you do. What do you think, that we're going to judge you or something?"

"I don't think you'll judge me," I said.

"Do you think it will mess up your tough girl reputation?" she pressed.

"Jesus, Ginny," I muttered, not liking this conversation one bit.

"Nate is crazy about you," she said. "Anyone can see it. He's totally fallen for you. And I can see you starting to sweat right now, just from me bringing it up. So I think that's something we should deal with."

"I just..." I stammered, not knowing how to respond. "It freaks me out, okay?" I finally snapped.

"Okay," she said, smiling at me.

"Something funny about that?"

"No, I'm just happy that you told me something real."

I glared at her and didn't respond.

"Listen to me, okay? You don't have to respond and you can hate me when I'm done, but you need to hear this." She waited until I met her gaze before she continued. "I get that all the stuff that went down with your dad made you feel freaked out about guys-"

"Oh, G.o.d," I said, throwing my napkin down. "Can we please not have the whole *her-dad-abandoned-her-so-she-mistrusts-men' conversation? It's so cliche. And not true."

"I was actually talking more about your mom," she said sharply.

That shut me up.

"I know that you're terrified of being like her. We both do." She gestured to Jen, who looked at me sadly. "We understand that, okay?"

"No you don't," I said quietly. "You didn't live with her after he left. You don't know what that was like."

"No, but my parents did have their own special set of issues," she said flatly. "And so did Jen's."

I fell silent at that. Ginny was totally right, of course. She had a terrible relations.h.i.+p with her parents, had since she was a little kid. They never approved of anything she did, and in response, she acted out like crazy. Partying, drinking, hooking up with random guys-that was Ginny's life until she met Josh.

Jen, on the other hand, had parents who were crazy about her. But her father's alcohol addiction had destroyed their family and nearly killed him. Her mom had turned into a work-obsessed robot in order to cope, and did her best to pa.s.s those traits off onto Jen.

"Did you ever think that there's a reason the three of us are friends?" Jen asked quietly.

"We're friends because Ginny and I lived on the same street since we were babies," I said, not interested in some pseudo-psych babble. "Then we met you in high school and the three of us. .h.i.t it off."

"That's why we became friends," Jen said, refusing to be put off by my tone. "But why are we still friends? How many of the girls we went to high school with are still close with their former best friends? Who do you know that stayed as close as we are?"

"No one," Ginny agreed.

"We stayed this close because we became each other's families," Jen continued. "We all came from screwed-up homes, right? None of us had someone in our family to connect with. We all needed someone when we met."

I had a sudden mental image of Ginny sneaking into my house when we were ten. I had finally admitted to her that I was having nightmares when my dad was gone. So for two months one summer she snuck into my room every night after her parents had tucked her in and slept in my bed with me. I met her eyes, and I knew she was thinking about the same thing.

"All I'm saying," she said softly, "is that we know you, Annie. You're our family. So you can talk to us about stuff." She paused. "And you don't have to get mad at me when I tell you this: if you keep throwing away guys the way you've always done, you're going to end up every bit as unhappy as she is."

I stared at her, taking in her words as my heart sank. Everything I had done since I was thirteen years old had been an effort to escape my mother's fate. And now Ginny was telling me that it was hopeless, that I was going to end up like her anyhow. The thought made me sick.

"Don't throw Nate away," she said softly. "That's the last thing I'm going to say on the subject. But please think about it, okay?"

I nodded, unable to speak. Luckily, the waiter arrived with our food and I was spared the rest of the conversation. Jen deftly steered discussion away to safer matters-something ridiculous that Kiki had done in front of a client. As Jen talked, Ginny laughed and drank her margarita like nothing had happened.

But under the table, she reached out and grabbed my hand. And she didn't let go for a very long time.

Chapter Twenty-four.