Chapter Eleven
Evening of Olivia’s Bachelorette Party
“Well, I hope you’re satisfied,” I grunted, carrying most of Olivia’s weight, her arm wrapped around my shoulder, unable to walk on her own. I’d worn a short, black, cocktail dress, and impossibly high heels, per Olivia’s dress code for her bachelorette party. Of course, I’d complied; I didn’t want to be the only woman at the party who stood out like a sore thumb. However, now that I was practically carrying Olivia and contemplating trying to launch her onto my shoulder like a sack of potatoes, the outfit choice was looking like a poor one.
“I am very satizzfied,” she replied, her speech slurred and sloppy. “Between the pregnancy and having a small baby at home, I haven’t been able to get drunk in a very long time, Evelyn.” She said my name like I’d done something wrong, like somehow her getting pregnant was my fault.
“Well, I’m glad you were able to have fun,” I said in response, not really sure what I was supposed to say. As far as Olivia’s new life went, I understood it was a very sharp contrast to her old life – new baby, new fiancé – but in general, I found it hard to feel sorry for her. I was unable to deliver the sympathy she longed for from me. Sure, I put on a guise of feeling sorry for her because otherwise, it would cause a ripple in our relationship, but her life was a product of her choices and behavior. In addition, Devon had proposed to her, wanting to give her and their daughter a normal, family life. Well, I could find nothing terrible about that. So, my sympathy was reserved for people who actually needed it.
I made it to the door of the apartment she shared with Devon. They were planning to buy a house soon, but for now, the two of them lived in the same one bedroom apartment Olivia had moved into last summer, only now they had a baby. Little Ruby. The sweetest, tiniest, and loveliest little baby girl I’d ever known. She was perfect. And I never thought of Olivia as particularly maternal, but watching her with her baby made even my ovaries squirm a little. Olivia was a natural mother and Devon was a nervous, but doting father. I could tell he wanted to do everything he could, be a good father and also a good provider, but it was sweet to see him hold his daughter with a little bit of fear in him, not wanting to hurt her.
Not surprisingly, I could also tell there was strain on their relationship. It was only natural to expect some issues when you got pregnant one year into your relationship, only being twenty-ish. They became engaged during her pregnancy for two reasons: because they loved each other, but more so, because they both felt like it was expected of them. I didn’t feel like they should be getting married, didn’t feel like it was a good idea to enter into marriage simply because of the baby. However, I never found the nerve to express that to Olivia. I knew, on some level, if I told Olivia I thought the timing of her marriage was a mistake, it would be the beginning of the end of our friendship. I knew she’d see past my reasoning, even though it was sound, and pick out the bigger reason I might object; because of Devon. Because even watching him promise to be with her forever, even after watching him hold their baby, tears in his eyes, smiling at his fiancée – my best friend – there was still no absence of my feelings for him. Even though I loved my boyfriend. Even though…
I leaned Olivia against the wall next to her door, took her purse from her shoulder, and found her keys. I opened her door and was not surprised to find it dark and empty inside. Devon was out for his bachelor party and the baby was with his parents. I knew the boys would be bringing him home eventually, but I wasn’t surprised we’d beat them. I took her by the arm and led her into the apartment, heading straight for the bedroom.
She flopped down on the bed, lying straight back, arms flailed out to the sides.
“That was an epic night,” she said, not really sounding like she was speaking to me directly, but throwing it out into the universe.
“I’m glad you had a good time,” I said sincerely. I might not agree with her marriage, but she was still my best friend and I still wanted her to be happy. “I don’t think you’ll think it was so epic come tomorrow morning.”
“I never get hangovers,” she slurred.
“That’s a lie. Plus, it’s been over a year since you’ve been drunk. Maybe all the baby hormones have made you more susceptible to hangovers,” I said without much thought as I tried to undo the buckles on her high heels.
“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” Her tone was less playful, serious even.
I let my hands fall away from her feet. “Excuse me?” I whispered quietly, more than a little surprised by her comment.
“You’d love it if I woke up miserable. Face it, Evie, you want everything I have and the idea of me waking up with a hangover would put a smile on your face.” She sat up a little, surprising me with a smile on her face. “You’d think it served me right to wake up miserable.”
In the two years since I’d met Devon, since he'd started dating her and they’d been together, never had Olivia and I discussed the tension that existed between us all. I was at a loss for what to say in response to her. I never imagined she would call me out, confront me about it.
“Liv,” I said softly, not wanting to hurt her or do irrevocable damage to our friendship.
“It’s okay, Evie,” she said as she flopped back down on the bed. “I don’t blame you. Devon is the best and he wants to marry me. I’d be jealous if I were you too. I had his baby, so now I have a claim on him forever. No one else will ever be the mother of his first baby. I gave him something sacred.”
I tried not to focus on the fact that her statement made it sound like she expected Devon to have another baby momma at some point, as if she was admitting her relationship was temporary. I knew Devon didn’t think of it as such, but was surprised to hear it from Olivia.
“You’re drunk, Olivia.” That was the only thing I could think to say to her. I couldn’t deny what she was saying – I was jealous. But not in a hateful way, not in a way that made me angry with her. I was happy for her and Devon. Them having a baby and getting married changed nothing about our predicament. Devon had been, from the start, out of my reach. Not within my grasp. The minute he linked himself to Liv, it was over for us, and it had never really began. I’d made peace with that long ago, but it never made the connection go away, the awareness that I loved him in a way I hadn’t ever loved anyone. Loved him enough to let him be with her, to step back and watch him be happy with someone else – with my best friend.
“I’m really drunk,” she said with a giggle, which morphed into a huge belly laugh. She laughed for five minutes, making it nearly impossible to get her shoes off. When her laughter tapered off, I guided her into the bathroom.
“Here’s a nightgown,” I said, placing it on the counter. “Go to the bathroom and change. I’ll get some Advil and water for you.”
“You’re the best,” she said, with words I barely understood because they were so mushed together, and all tension from our earlier conversation dissolved away.
“I’m glad you think so, Liv. You’re pretty awesome yourself.” I shut the door as she ambled toward the toilet, glad to be done with the nerve-wracking conversation she’d started. I sat on her bed, dropped my head into my hands, and took in a deep breath. As her maid of honor, my responsibility included making sure she was safe and taken care of, which meant getting her home. Therefore, I’d consumed far less alcohol than she had. And in that moment, I was regretting that fact immensely. I scrubbed my hands down my face, breathing out a large sigh. After a quiet moment, I heard more giggles coming from the bathroom and let my lips form the smile that came naturally. Despite what drunk Olivia thought, I would never want her to be uncomfortable just to make myself feel better. I loved her. I treasured our friendship. It was a little more complicated than I ever would have imagined, but only for me. I’d never make my feelings for her fiancé affect anything. Ever.