Inside she spotted the back of her mother’s coiffed platinum hair and explained to the hostess she’d walk herself back. She weaved around a waiter, past a flaming tray of Baked Alaska, and spotted Celeste and Trey. Smile pasted firmly on her face, she raised a hand to wave, the action frozen midway when the couple next to Trey came into view. Trey’s mother and father craned their necks around to shoot daggers at Sadie. Sadie’s smile dropped like dice on a Craps table.
She hadn’t seen Trey’s parents since Celeste and Trey’s wedding. They’d made it clear then whose side they were on.
Trey’s. Natch.
Sadie survived brunch. Barely. She downed a mimosa, mumbled apologies to her mother, who repeatedly reminded her she was late for “Celeste’s big day,” and was tempted to order a second glass of champagne and orange juice. She refrained. Champagne gave her loose lips and, in her state of frustration, Lord only knew what might bubble out of her mouth.
After dessert was served—chocolate soufflé with raspberry sauce and white chocolate shavings—Celeste tapped her water glass with a fork. Her wide blue eyes were her father’s, Sadie’s stepfather’s, but she and Celeste shared their mother’s fair hair, fair skin, and petite figure that nipped in at the waist and swelled in all the right womanly places. Celeste was shorter than Sadie, which was a feat considering Sadie barely hit five two, and her hair was shorter, a sloppy pixie cut Sadie would have never been able to pull off.
“Thank you all for coming out for my birthday,” Celeste squeaked in a small voice that made her sound cherubic and adorable, like an angel. A fiancé-stealing angel, Sadie thought with a snort. See? Had she ordered a second mimosa, she’d have announced that last thought.
“Trey and I asked you all here not only because I’m turning twenty-six—”
Bitch.
“—but also because we have a big announcement to make.”
The raspberry Sadie popped in her mouth turned rancid on her tongue. There were only two words that could follow that kind of a statement, so it came as no surprise when Celeste said, “We’re pregnant!” and squeeeed high enough for dogs to hear.
Expecting the announcement of a bun in the oven hadn’t made it any more palatable.
Celeste dug out the blurry ultrasound pictures, and Sadie quickly planned her exit. Trey was glowing. Frickin’ glowing. She realized then the reason it irritated her to see how happy he was with Celeste. His happiness further broadcasted how Sadie had failed to please him.
“It’s got your nose!” Trey’s dad joked about the indiscernible blob on the photo.
“Do you know the sex yet?” his mother asked.
“Not yet. We’re only twelve weeks,” Celeste said, nuzzling her husband.
Yeah. Sadie needed to get the hell out of here. She turned to say good-bye to Mother, but something about Miriam DeWalt’s stalwart expression made her pause. Shouldn’t she be weeping tears of glorious joy? Her perfect daughter had married the perfect son-in-law and they were having a perfect baby. Instead, Mother sat with her hands folded in her lap, a contented smile on her thin lips.
“You knew!” Sadie whispered the accusation, not that anyone could have heard her over the celebratory racket at the other end of the table.
Sadie’s mother shrugged. “She had to tell someone, darling.”
And not her, Miriam implied. Not the jilted, bitter older sister. As usual, Sadie was the last to know. Just like when Celeste and Trey had begun spending extra time together on the patio at her mother’s house. Just like when Trey had asked Sadie’s stepfather for Celeste’s hand in marriage before he’d broken off the engagement with Sadie. Just like now, when Celeste had made sure Sadie was in a position where she was forced to behave while being skewered with the news that not only was her younger sister married and pregnant before her, but would hence be bearing the child of the fiancé Sadie had failed to keep at her side.
Sadie stood from her seat so abruptly, everyone at the table turned toward her. “I have an appointment,” she muttered, silently adding, with a very big bottle of wine. “Happy birthday, Celeste.”
Sadie dropped her napkin over her dessert while Celeste did her impersonation of downtrodden, Woe is me Eeyore. Sadie spared a glare for her turncoat mother before marching for the door. “Thanks for the meal.”
She almost made it to the exit when Trey’s voice rang out behind her. “You can’t be happy for us, can you?”
She turned to face him, sliding her sunglasses onto her nose in the process. “I beg your pardon?”