I Wish You Happy: A Novel by King Kerry Anne

Author:King, Kerry Anne [King, Kerry Anne]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9781477848869
Publisher: Lake Union Publishing
Published: 2017-06-30T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Saturday morning dawns clear and bright, calm, with no chance of rain. If the weatherman can be believed, the evening will be perfect for a bonfire and an Oscar Event. Not that he actually mentions the Oscar Event, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he did. It’s become big enough in my head that I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole town of Colville and half the city of Spokane showed up.

The weather forecast elicits mixed emotions from me, ranging from anxiety through anger and avoidance to expectation and pleasure. Historically, parties have worked out about as well for me as shiny new electronic devices. Horrible weather would be too bad, so sad, but it would also offer me a graceful exit strategy.

I have one last hope of evasion.

Kat. The two of us have spent the last few days in a state of truce, both of us trying a little too hard. If there were a sitcom called The Nice Sisters, we’d be the stars, oozing politeness and consideration until I want to scream unfamiliar curse words at the top of my lungs. The emotional subtext, absorbed through my pores and processed by that internal receptor I’m supposed to have, is a dark mix of jealousy, love, hope, despair, and an indefinable restlessness.

All day I tell myself my uneasiness is a product of my overactive imagination, fed by sleep deprivation and the traumatic events of the last few days. But it persists, lurking in corners, stalking my every move.

An hour before it’s time to go I can’t stand it anymore. I pop out of the bathroom, an open mascara bottle in one hand, the wand in the other. “Seriously. You should come. I can pick up a wheelchair so you don’t have to use the walker.”

“I’m not crashing your party,” Kat says, cuddling a lapful of kittens. “Besides, who would take care of these guys?”

“I could stay home.”

“No. Not on account of me.” There’s a warning in her tone.

“You’re still not strong. I can see how much you’re hurting, even with the oxycodone. What if—”

“Rae. Stop. You need to have a life.”

“But—”

“There are no buts. I’m not going. You are. End of story. You’re getting mascara all over your pants.”

Damn it, she’s right. I’m not sure I even have another pair of jeans, and I am not wearing scrubs to my one social outing of the year. Back in the bathroom I blot at the black streak with a damp washcloth, managing only to smear it.

“It will be dark,” Kat calls from the living room. “Nobody’s going to notice.”

I pop back out, careful to cap the mascara this time. “It won’t be dark right away. Not during the drive.” And then I blurt out what I’ve been avoiding telling her. “Cole is picking me up.”

Her lips press together and fold in at the corners before she can duck her head to hide her face.

“I can call him and cancel. If you wanted to come. Or I could stay home. I don’t think I even want to go.

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