Chapter 13: The Get Together

Between Us Girls, by Natalie Drenovac

• If you’re new here, read: Chapter 1

Saturday, September 7th

Miranda’s trimming the peonies. The third time in an hour.

“They’re fine,” I say.

“They’re blocking sightlines.” Snip. Another inch gone.

I’m polishing wine glasses we got as wedding gifts and have used maybe twice. The good crystal. A beautiful gift that we only ever take out for other people.

“Why do we do this?” I ask.

“Do what?”

“Make this much effort for guests. We ate cereal for dinner Tuesday.”

She laughs. “Because they’re guests.”

It’s why the apartment looks like a photo shoot. Candles everywhere. Blood Orange playing. Every surface gleaming. We’re performing our life together for people who already know us.

I change into a Toteme dress. Navy, clean lines. Miranda’s in black silk. We look good.

The buzzer rings at seven sharp.

Giselle and Ethan arrive first.

“You finally did it! Took you long enough.” Miranda says, kissing Ethan on the cheek.

Ethan beamed. He was always happy. All smooth lines and radiant skin. He and Giselle looked like a matching set. They both moved easily through life in the same aura of family money. They both had enviable face symmetry. They were both comfortable wherever they went. They were both kind.

They’d never had to be anything else.

“Thanks for having us. It smells amazing. What’s cooking?” Ethan asked, removing his coat and placing a bottle on the counter, “Is David here yet?”

David and Giselle had grown up together. Well, he was a little older but their families had taken vacations together and ran in the ‘same circles’ as they say. Ethan met David on the Fulbright program. Years later, on a trip to the US, David had introduced him to Giselle and the rest was history.

Carmen arrives next in a vintage Mugler jacket and black slip dress. She hugs me, whispers in my ear: “You look a little tense.”

“Thanks.”

“Just an observation.”

Jess shows up with wine and baklava wrapped in foil. “Mom made this. If it’s terrible, I had nothing to do with it.”

“It smells wonderful,” Miranda says but I can sense the wrinkle of annoyance in her voice. Foil wrapped plates were not on the mood board for this evening.

The buzzer again.

Emily and David.

She’s in emerald green silk. Hair down. David’s hand on her lower back, guiding her through the door.

She works the room. Hugging everyone, asking questions, laughing.

When she gets to me, the smile doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Thanks for having us.” Her voice is different. Higher.

She hugs me quickly, stiff. Her body doesn’t soften into mine.

Miranda’s already pouring champagne. She hands David a Pellegrino. “I remembered.”

He takes it. “Two weeks without a drink. I’ve never felt better. If you read the science, even one drink is doing your brain serious da-”

“Does science say anything about the side effects? Maybe…becoming a self righteous prick?” Ethan ribs. They laugh and jab at each other until they start practically rough housing through the kitchen.

“Men,” Jess says, shaking her head.

Carmen raises her glass. “Cheers to that.”

Miranda laughs too loud. “No shame in being beaten Ethan,” She laughs. “We played pickleball last week and he destroyed me.”

“Barely,” David says. “You won the first set.”

“A win’s a win.”

“Exactly.” Miranda turns to Ethan. “You should join us next Friday. We need a fourth.”

“I’ve never played.”

“Perfect. David can teach you.” She’s already planning it. “He’s annoyingly good.”

David grins. “Real estate by day, pickleball champion by night.”

“Speaking of,” Ethan says, “I’m trying to figure out the logistics of my London flat. Any advice?”

“What’s the timeline?” David asks.

“Ideally before the wedding. I’m moving into Giselle’s but I need to sort out tenants or sell.”

They launch into logistics. International real estate. Tax implications. David’s confident, helpful. This is his world.

Emily sits next to him on the couch, her hand on his knee. She’s laughing at something Giselle said, but her hand stays there. Anchored.

“Two weeks until St. Barths,” Giselle says. “I’m losing my mind.”

“Why?” Carmen asks.

“Because you three—” Giselle points at Jess, Emily, and Carmen, “—keep group texting and I know you’re planning something.”

Jess grins. “We would never.”

“You’re terrible liars.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Emily says, but she’s smiling.

“Just tell me if there’s a theme,” Giselle says.

“There’s always a theme,” Carmen says.

“That’s not helpful.”

“You’ll find out in two weeks,” Jess says.

“I hate you all.”

Ethan laughs.”Should I be worried about what you’re all planning to get up to?”

We laugh but something shifts in the room. The Hamptons hangs there between us.

Jess breaks the moment. “Has anyone tried that new restaurant in Williamsburg?”

“Dinner’s ready,” Miranda announces.

We move to the dining room. Miranda’s place cards are at each seat. Never one to miss a moment showing off her calligraphy skills.

I’m between Carmen and Jess. Emily’s across from me next to Ethan. David’s at the far end with Giselle.

Miranda takes the head of the table. Adjusts a fork. Pours wine.

“Alex, grab the ceviche?”

I bring out the first course. Yellowtail ceviche, citrus, jalapeño, avocado.

David launches into a story about a client who wanted to buy a penthouse but refused to view it above the sixth floor. “Scared of heights but wants a penthouse. Make it make sense.”

Everyone laughs.

Ethan talks about his firm. The New York office. The transition from London. David asks about the visa process, work permits. They compare notes on international moves.

Emily’s telling a story about her daughter’s school play. How she’d been rushing up the stairs and ripped the costume’s sleeve clean off. Emily had to sew it back on in the car.

“In the car?” Jess asks.

“In the school parking lot. I keep a sewing kit in the glove compartment now.”

“That’s very Martha Stewart of you,” Carmen says.

“I take that as a compliment.”

David puts his hand on her shoulder. “You’re a great mom.”

She smiles up at him. Touches his hand.

I turn to Carmen. “Want to go to that new place in Soho next week? It keeps popping up on my Instagram.”

“The Italian one?”

“Yeah. Looks good.”

“I’m in. When?”

“Wednesday?”

“Perfect.” Carmen takes a sip of wine. “I need a night out. I’ve been on three dates in two weeks and I’m exhausted.”

“Three? With who?”

“Different people. That’s the problem.”

“Anyone good?”

“One was fine. One talked about his ex the entire time. The third one...” She pauses. “Actually really nice.”

“So what’s wrong with him?”

“Nothing. That’s the problem. He’s too nice.”

“There’s no such thing as too nice.”

“There absolutely is. I need someone with a little edge.”

I laugh. “Of course you do.”

“How’s your mom doing?” Carmen asks Jess.

“Good, actually. She’s taking pottery classes. Living alone for the first time in thirty years.”

“That’s huge,” Giselle says.

“It is. She’s figuring out who she is when she’s not just someone’s wife.” Jess pauses. “Took her three decades to even ask the question.”

“I think it’s brave,” Carmen says.

“She’s making incredibly ugly bowls and she’s happy,” Jess says. “I’ll take it.”

Miranda brings out the main course. Cold poached salmon, cucumber, dill, lemon.

“This is beautiful,” Ethan says.

“Thank you.”

“We finally locked in a date,” Giselle says. “April twenty-sixth. Invitations are going out next month.”

“Spring wedding upstate,” Ethan adds. “She’s been planning this since we got engaged.”

“I’ve been planning this since I was twelve,” Giselle corrects.

“Keep it small,” David advises. “We had two hundred people at ours and I maybe talked to fifty.”

“We’re doing seventy max,” Giselle says.

“Smart,” Emily says. “Intimate is better.”

I’m not huge on weddings. But Giselle’s will be beautiful. She makes everything an event.

“More wine?” Miranda’s already opening another bottle.

“We should get going,” Emily says. “Babysitter—”

“One more glass,” Giselle says.

David checks his phone. “Kids are asleep. We can stay a bit.”

We move to the living room. Miranda pours wine. Whiskey for those who want it.

I end up on the couch with Carmen and Jess. Carmen’s in the middle of a story about a director who had a meltdown over button placement.

“I’m serious,” Carmen says. “He made us reshoot an entire scene because the buttons were on the wrong side.”

“The wrong side?” Jess asks.

“Men’s shirts button left over right. Women’s button right over left. He noticed in playback.”

“That’s insane,” I say.

“That’s a ten million dollar budget.” Carmen’s grinning. “We had to redo the whole day.”

Jess is laughing so hard she’s wiping her eyes. “I can’t breathe.”

Across the room, Emily’s sitting close to David. She’s laughing at something Ethan said. Her hand finds David’s.

I turn back to Carmen. “Tell the one about the actor who showed up drunk.”

“Oh god.” Carmen launches into it. The whole room’s laughing now.

I’m having fun. Actually having fun.

It’s past midnight when David checks his watch. “We really need to go.”

Everyone starts gathering things. Jackets. Bags. Hugs goodbye.

Emily hugs everyone. Warm. Enthusiastic.

When she gets to me, the smile tightens.

“Thanks for tonight.”

“Of course.”

She won’t look at me. David’s waiting by the door.

She takes his hand.

They leave.

The door closes. The apartment is suddenly quiet.

Miranda’s buzzing. “That was perfect. Everyone had such a good time.”

“Did you see how happy Giselle is? And Ethan’s so lovely. They’re such a great couple.”

She pours two glasses of wine even though we’ve had plenty.

“Come here.”

I take the glass but don’t move.

She crosses to me. Kisses my neck. Her hand slides down my waist.

“I’m exhausted,” I say.

“Are you?” Her mouth on my collarbone.

“Yeah. Long day. Rain check for morning?”

She pulls back. Studies my face.

“I’m just tired.”

“Okay.” She kisses me once more. “Morning.”

She heads to the bedroom. I hear water running.

I pour another glass. Sit on the couch in the dark.

My phone buzzes.

Emily: I can’t do this.

I read it twice.

Emily: This has been a mistake. I have kids. David doesn’t deserve this.

Emily: Please don’t text back.

I stare at them.

My hands start shaking. I press them flat against the couch. Force them still.

I’ve been sneaking around behind Miranda’s back. Deleting messages. Lying about being tired. Risking my marriage for...

I drain the wine. Pour another but my hands won’t steady.

I reread the messages. Deleting each one.

The apartment feels too quiet. I can hear Miranda humming in the next room.

I set the glass down before I drop it.

Miranda trusted me.

And I—

I can’t finish the thought. I go to the bedroom.

Miranda’s already in bed. Eyes half-closed.

When I get into bed. She reaches for me. Pulls me close. Her arm around my waist.

“Mm. You smell good.”

My chest feels so tight.

“Love you,” she says against my neck.

“Love you too.”

She’s already drifting. Her breathing slows.

I lie there in the dark. Eyes open. Her body warm against mine.

It’s fine I tell myself. Everything will go back to normal now.

But the tightness in my chest won’t ease.

Keep reading: Chapter 14

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Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. The characters, events, companies, places, names, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance, whether direct or indirect, to actual persons (living or dead), places, events, or businesses is entirely coincidental and unintended. Where reference is made to real locations or historical events, such references are included solely for the purpose of creating a sense of authenticity. They should not be interpreted as depicting real people, their actions, or their conduct. The author expressly disclaims any and all responsibility for any such interpretations or assumptions.