LITMIR.BIZ

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holds Lishelle close. “It’s been in the making for over ten years.”

      “Congratulations,” Adam tells them. “That’s great news.”

      “Thanks.”

      “What do you do, Glenn?” Adam asks.

      “I’m a pilot.”

      “Ah. Which airline?”

      “All-American Air.”

      Adam nods politely, but I know what he’s thinking. He’s thinking the airline isn’t big enough and prestigious enough.

      “Now you’ll be able to fly anywhere in the country,” I tell Lishelle, hoping Glenn won’t pick up on any of Adam’s snootiness. Really, I love him, but I hate how elitist he can be sometimes.

      “That’s just one of the perks I’m looking forward to.” Lishelle separates herself from Glenn to link arms with me. “Where’s Annelise?”

      “I haven’t seen her yet.”

      “Then we should find her,” Lishelle suggests. She turns to Glenn and offers him her free hand. He gazes deeply into her eyes as he takes it, like a man hopelessly in love.

      “I’m going to circulate.” Adam gives me a soft peck on the cheek.

      “Oh, all right.” I’m a little disappointed, even though I know Adam’s going to want to make the rounds, thank people for coming out to support the event. “I’ll see you later.”

      I force a smile as I turn to Lishelle and Glenn. “Come on. Let’s go find Annelise.”

      When I spot Annelise, she’s grabbing a champagne flute off of a sterling-silver tray. No sooner has she taken the drink than she downs it—every last drop.

      Something’s wrong.

      As I get a little closer, I see that her eyes are red-rimmed. She’s been crying.

      Annelise’s eyes light up as she sees us. Releasing Charles’s arm, she floats toward me. We air-kiss, and then she does the same with Lishelle. “Glenn.” Annelise takes his hands in hers. “How nice to see you again!”

      She’s a little too bubbly—like she’s had too much to drink.

      “We’re engaged!” Lishelle flashes the ring.

      “What? That’s so great.” When the tears flow from Annelise’s eyes, I know they’re not for Lishelle and Glenn. I wonder if Lishelle knows that, too.

      Saying, “Excuse me,” I link arms with Annelise and pull her aside to a spot where there aren’t many people milling around. “Okay, Annie. What’s going on?”

      “I’m so happy for Lishelle—aren’t you?”

      “That has nothing to do with why you’re crying. And how much have you had to drink?”

      “Just one, I think. Maybe two.”

      “Stop lying. You can hardly stand straight. What’s going on?”

      Annelise starts to cry discreetly. I take her hand and cross the floor to the bathroom, which is thankfully not more than a hundred yards away.

      “…fucking son of a bitch,” a woman is saying as we enter. She’s passing Kleenex to another well-dressed woman, who is also crying.

      Drama. There’s always drama in women’s bathrooms.

      I lead Annelise to a sofa on the opposite side of the bathroom’s sitting area. “Tell me everything,” I say in a hushed tone.

      “I don’t…” Her eyes sweep the bathroom. “I don’t want to talk about it here.”

      “Is it serious?” I continue. I hate seeing my friend like this. “That’s what I want to know.”

      “It’s just…I was supposed to do a wedding in the morning. But the woman called and canceled when I was already at the church. Said she found her boyfriend making out with a stripper at the bachelor party and she ended things.”

      “And you’re this upset about it several hours later?”

      “No…I also had a fight with Charles. But I think we’ll be okay,” she adds bravely.

      I wrap an arm around her as we sit. When the two other women in the lounge area get up and leave, I immediately ask, “What do you mean you think we’ll be okay. You just had a fight, right? Nothing serious.”

      Fresh tears fill Annelise’s eyes. For a moment, she can’t even speak.

      “Oh, no.” I shake my head. “Annie, no.”

      “He said I’m driving a stake into our marriage, that I’m pushing him away.”

      “What?”

      “Me—the one who’s always there for him. Always washing his clothes, making sure even his briefs are neatly pressed.”

      “You’ve been nothing but a great wife to him.”

      “According to him, because I’m doing everything I can to get him in the mood, I’m putting too much pressure on him.” Annelise pauses to blow her nose. Gone are the tears, replaced with a look of defiance. “You know what got him so pissed? That I booked a weekend away for us at that retreat in Arizona. Earlier this week, he told me he’d take some time off. Then I tell him I tentatively booked something for next weekend, and he got upset.”

      “Come on.”

      “I’m serious. I’m trying to save our marriage, and he got upset. Told me that he’s knee deep in work with the lawsuit, and yeah, I know he is. But he’s got to be able to book some time off, can’t he? He’s not the only one working on that case. Marsha Hindenberg can pick up the slack for one day, can’t she?”

      “I agree.” I rub Annelise’s back. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him.”

      “And it’s not just that. On Tuesday, I made reservations for dinner at his favorite restaurant. I’d called him earlier and he sounded excited about going out. But you know what—he never even made it home. He called from the airport to say he had to go out of town for a couple days.”

      “Why didn’t you call me?”

      “I’m so embarrassed about all of this. Is this my husband or a stranger? I don’t know anymore.”

      “You’ll get past this. I know you will.”

      “What if we don’t? What if he leaves me?”

      “No. Oh my God, no. Listen, there were many times my father left my mother waiting after promising he’d be home at a certain time. Charles has a high-profile career. He’s working on a high-profile case.”

      “Then why did he say I’m pushing him away?”

      “Couples have arguments like that all the time. Say things they don’t mean.”

      “I hope you’re right.”

      “I am. Annie, you had an argument. That’s all.”

      Annelise seems to consider my words but doesn’t comment. Instead, she gets to her feet and straightens her buttercup-yellow gown. It looks fantastic on her, highlighting her blond hair.

      “We’d better get back out there,” she says.

      “You’re okay?”

      “I’m fine,” she assures me, and thankfully, she does seem fine. “Let me freshen up my makeup, and I’ll be good to go.”

      We both spend a couple minutes retouching face powder and lipstick, then we head out the door.

      I bump right into someone entering, and offer a quick apology before I see who it is. It’s Arlene Nash, and unlike me, she doesn’t offer

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