So, I did look that bad. But I guess that shouldn’t have come as a shock to me. I hadn’t shaved in a couple of days. I was clean, but I hadn’t styled my hair. Without product in it, it hung down in my eyes. I hadn’t slept well, if at all, in days. I knew there were dark circles under my eyes. And who knew if what I was wearing matched or even looked halfway decent? I definitely wasn’t wearing the tuxedo Mom had asked us to wear.
“I don’t guess Carrie showed up here without me, huh?”
“Um… no.” Olive walked up, stirring a martini. “Why would she come separate from you? Trouble in paradise?” she snarked. “Besides, nobody cares whether Carrie is here or not. We’re all just waiting for Madison.” She got a little smile on her face. “And from what I hear, you’re probably waiting on her, too.”
“Fuck off,” I said half-heartedly.
Everyone gasped. Olive almost dropped her martini. “Jeez. What’s got you in such a mood?”
“Maybe,” I suddenly yelled, “it’s because my mother did everything she could to put a wedge between me and my wifeand it worked!”
All conversation stopped. There must have been three hundred people in the cavernous room, but no one made a sound.
“Did you know I was just like him, Mom? I’m a carbon copy of Dad, is that it?”
My mother’s eyes were huge, and she looked cornered.
“You thought I couldn’t withstand the former girlfriend who treated me horribly. And you were right. What was it yousaw in me? Weakness? Was that it? You thought I could be easily manipulated?” I picked up a glass of whiskey out of my brother’s hand and tossed it back. “I need another,” I called out desperately in the direction of the bar. A fresh glass was put in my hand within seconds.
“Thatcher,” my mom was talking to me like she would approach a rabid dog, “I’m not sure what has gotten into you, but…”
“You don’t know?” I yelled again, cutting her off. I tossed back the fresh glass of whiskey.
“You’re making an ass out of yourself,” Celia said, trying to intercept the waitstaff before they could get me a refill. She was too slow.
I laughed. “Iaman ass. You’re right about that. What’s gotten into me,Mother, is that horrible harpy of a model you hired for our campaign. You wanted me to cheat on Carrie, right? Well, guess what? You almost got your wish. I came this close to turning into your dead husband. Did you hate Carrie so much you wanted her to feel the pain you felt when Dad cheated on you?”
The color drained from my mom’s face, and I could tell she hadn’t thought of it that way. “No. No, I…”
“Excuse me,” our pretentious butler said in his snooty British accent.
“Oh, give it up, Jesper,” I snorted. “You’re from fucking Wetumpka, Alabama.”
More gasps went up around the room. People might be more surprised about Jesper’s origin story than the fact that I cheated.
“Be that as it may, sir,” he said in a cold, but still British, voice, “you have a guest.”
I turned, hoping beyond hope to see Carrie. Instead, a pretty woman dressed in jeans and a peacoat smiled as she walked into the room full of people in formal wear.
“Are you cheating on CarrieandMadison with this woman?” Bryce asked. “I’m not judgmental, just… astonished.”
“No, of course not.” I stared at the woman. “Can I help you?”
“Thatcher Caldwell?”
“Yes?”
She held out a fancy gift bag for me. “This is from your wife. She said to send her apologies but that she wouldn’t be able to make it today.”
I took the bag.
The woman gave me a condescending smile. “Thatcher Caldwell, you’ve been served.”
“What?” I stared at her retreating back. I didn’t realize what was going on.
“Oh my God, Thatch,” Celia shook her head. She knew what was coming, but I still didn’t.
I peeked into the bag and pulled out a manila envelope. I opened it, flipped a page or two, and saw that one document was titled Petition for Divorce. My knees buckled, and I practically fell into the nearest chair. “They’re divorce papers. Carrie filed for divorce.”