The Hating Game: A Novel

In a pretty room adjoining the ballroom, we spend nearly two hours mingling in various states of awkwardness in an endless champagne reception. When I say mingling, I mean me carrying Joshua through a succession of social encounters with distant relatives while he stands beside me, watching me glug champagne to dull my nerves, which burns my empty stomach like gasoline. Every introduction goes like this.

“Lucy, this is my aunt Yvonne, my mother’s sister. Yvonne, Lucy Hutton.”

When his duty is completed, he begins occupying himself with stroking my inner arm, spreading his hand across my back to find the bare skin under my hair, or linking and unlinking our fingers. Always staring. He barely takes his eyes off me. He’s probably amazed by my small-talk ability.

After a while, he is taken by his mother out into the side garden, and I watch through the window as he poses with various combinations of family. His smile is forced. When he catches me spying, I’m beckoned out, and he and I pose together in front of a charming rosebush. When the shutter clicks shut, the old version of me shakes her head, wondering how we ever got to this point. Me, and Joshua Templeman, captured side by side in the same photograph, smiling? Every new development between us feels like an impossibility.

He turns me and cups my chin in his palms, and I hear the photographer say, Lovely. Another shutter click, and I forget the world in the instant his lips touch mine. I wish I could shake off my old mistrusts, but this all feels too much like a summer afternoon daydream. The sort I might have had once, and then hated myself for it.

I watch Patrick and Mindy across the lawn, now clinched together romantically in front of another camera and I realize that I’m clinched in a fairly romantic pose myself. The man who’s hated me for so long is now showing me off, tugging me close to his side. When we go back inside, he kisses me on the temple. He drops his mouth down to my ear, and tells me I’m beautiful. I’m turned another ninety degrees, presented to another set of relatives. He’s showing me off.

What I haven’t worked out yet is, Why?

In every introduction, after discussions on how lovely Mindy looked and how nice the ceremony was, the inevitable question always comes next.

“So, Lucy, how did you meet Josh?”

“We met at work,” Josh supplied the first time when the silence stretched too thin, so it becomes my default answer.

“Oh, and where do you work?” is the next question. None of his family has even the slightest idea where he works, or what he does. They’re awkward about it; like being a Med School Dropout is something to be deeply ashamed of. At least a publishing house sounds glamorous.

“It’s so lovely seeing you with someone new,” another great-aunt tells him. She gives me a Meaningful Look. Perhaps he’s also rumored to be gay.

I excuse us and pull him aside behind a pillar.

“You have to make more of an effort. I’m exhausted. It’s my turn to stand there and feel you up while you talk.” A waiter passes and offers me another tiny canapé. He knows me by now because I’ve eaten at least twelve. I’m his best customer. I’m obsessed with dinner, which I’ve been promised by the waiter is at five o’clock sharp. I watch the hands on Josh’s watch, knowing I’ll probably die of hunger before then.

“I can’t think of anything to say.” He notices a paintball bruise on my upper arm and begins silently fussing over it.

“Ask people about themselves, it usually works.” I am acutely aware of how many people keep taking little peeks at us. “You need to tell me why everyone’s looking at me like I’m the Bride of Frankenstein. No offense, you big freak.”

“I hate being asked about myself.”

“I noticed. Nobody knows a flippin’ thing about you. And you didn’t answer my question.”

“They’re looking at me. Most of them haven’t seen me since the Big Scandal.”

“Is that why you want me to play girlfriend? So everyone forgets you’re not a doctor? You’d do far better to hand out your business card. Quit touching me. I can’t think straight.” I tug my arm.

“I can’t seem to stop now I’ve started.” He gathers me closer and dips his mouth down to my ear. “Are you this soft all over?”

“What do you think?”

“I want to know.” His lips brush my earlobe and I can’t remember what we’re talking about.

“Why are you acting so kissy and boyfriend-y?” I watch his eyes closely, and when he answers, I know with deep certainty that he is not telling me something.

“I’ve told you. You’re my moral support.”

“For what? What am I missing?” My voice gets a little sharp and some heads close to us turn. “Josh, I feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

He strokes his hand down the side of my neck. I shiver so hard he sees it. When he bends to press a kiss against my lips, my eyelids drop shut, and there’s nothing in the world but him. I want to exist only here; in the dark, the feel of his forearm in the small of my back. His lips telling me, Lucy, stop fretting. It’s an unfair move.

I open my eyes and a couple who I think are Mindy’s parents are clearly talking about us. Both have busybody speculative eyes as they inspect me.

“Quit trying to distract me. We need to get through dinner. And you’re going to come up with some topics of conversation and talk to your family. Why are you being so shy?” As soon as I say it, I understand. “Oh. Because you are shy.”

My new revelation gives me a slightly different angle to view him from. “All this time I thought you were just an arrogant asshole. I mean, you are. But there’s more to it. You’re actually incredibly shy.” He blinks and I know I’m right on the money.

A strange sensation stirs in my chest. It unfolds, grows twice as large, then again. It doesn’t stop; it gets faster, bigger, feathers and fluff stuffing my chest like a cushion. I don’t know what’s happening, but it’s filling up my throat and I can’t find any breath. He seems to know something is happening with me, but he doesn’t press me on it; instead, his arm rises to hug my shoulders, his other hand cradling my head. Again, I try to speak but I can’t. He just holds me and I squeeze my hands uselessly on his lapels and the red foyer in the far distance sparkles like a jewel.

“Josh,” Elaine says. “Oh, here you are.” Her voice warms. Josh pivots without releasing me, sliding my shoes along the marble floor.

Her eyes are a little too bright when she looks at us both. “When you’re ready, would you like to join us inside? You’re at our table.”

“I’ll bring him right in.”

The unfolding in my chest crumples a little when I realize his mother is happy to see him with someone. I straighten up and his hands slide to my lower back. People shuffle in to take their seats and I see heads crane as they walk past to look at us.

“Who am I?” I try one last time. “Your housekeeper? Your piano teacher?”

“You’re Shortcake,” he says simply. “You don’t need to make up anything. Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

I feel some trepidation as I approach our table and Josh stiffens up. We ease into our chairs and spend a few minutes studying the table decorations and our name cards. The others are typed, but mine is handwritten, I’m guessing due to the late RSVP.

The table seats eight. Me, Josh, his mom and dad, Mindy’s parents, and Mindy’s brother and sister. I’m at the head family table. If I had known this would happen when I brashly offered my services as Josh’s chauffeur, I would have punched myself in the face.

I chat a little to Mindy’s brother, seated to my left. Glasses are clinked. I’m praying Josh will say something, anything. I’m about to aim a little jab at the side of his thigh when the silence is broken by Elaine. The dreaded question.

“Lucy, tell everyone how you met Josh.”

Inwardly I shriek. I’ve answered this same question at least eight times today, and it never gets any easier. “Well. Well, uh . . .”

Oh crap, I’m sounding like a priced-by-the-hour escort who hasn’t thought of a good enough lie. What did we agree again? I’m Shortcake? I can’t tell them that. If I ever was going to humiliate Josh, now would be the time. I can almost imagine saying it. He forced me to come.

“We work together,” Josh says calmly, ripping his dinner roll in half. “We met at work.”

“An office romance,” Elaine says, winking at Anthony. “The best kind. What did you think of him when you first laid eyes on him?”

I know a born romantic when I see one. She’s a mother who will take any compliment of her offspring as a compliment to herself. She’s looking at him now with her heart in her eyes, and I cannot help falling a bit in love with her myself.

“I thought, good grief, he’s tall.” Everyone except Anthony laughs. He’s studying his fork, checking for cleanliness.

“How tall are you, Lucy?” Mindy’s mother, Diane, asks. Yet another dreaded question.

“Five whole feet.” My standard answer that always gets a laugh.

Waitstaff are beginning to pass out the starters and my stomach makes a hungry gurgle.

“And what did you think when you saw Lucy?” Elaine prompts. We may as well be sitting in the middle of the table like decorative centerpieces. This is getting ridiculous.

“I thought she had the best smile I’d ever seen,” Josh replies, matter-of-fact. Diane and Elaine both look at each other and bite their lips, eyes widening, eyebrows rising. I know that look. It’s the Hopeful Mom look.

But even I can’t stop myself from blurting, “Did you?”

If he’s lying, he’s absolutely outdoing himself. I know his face better than my own, and I can’t pick it. He nods and gestures at my plate.

I learn that Patrick and Mindy are going to Hawaii for their honeymoon.

“I’ve always wanted to go there. I need some sun. A vacation sounds good right about now.” I push away my plate, which I’ve practically licked clean, and remember that a trip to Sky Diamond Strawberries is on the near horizon. I start to tell Josh, because he’s so fascinated with that place, but his mother interrupts.

“Is work busy?” Elaine asks.

I nod. “So busy. And Josh is just as busy.”

I notice Anthony make a little snort, looking away dismissively. Boy, is that expression familiar. Josh goes rigid, and Elaine gives her husband a frown.

The main courses are served and I begin dismantling it with gusto. Tiny hairline cracks of tension are starting to run through the meal. I must be incredibly slow, but I can’t work out the source of it. True, Anthony hasn’t said much, but he seems like a nice enough man. Elaine is growing more tense, her smile more forced, as she attempts to keep the mood light. I can see her starting to glance at Anthony, her eyes imploring him.

As the waitstaff clear the plates after our main courses, I can see all the major players getting ready for their speeches. Anthony takes an index card from his inner pocket. As they test the microphone, I tug my chair a little closer to Josh and he drops one arm over my shoulders. I lean back into him.

There’s a speech from the best man and Mindy’s maid of honor. Her father makes a speech welcoming Patrick to the family, and I smile at the sincere ring in his voice. He talks about his pleasure in gaining a son. Josh hugs me closer and I let him.

Anthony takes the podium and looks at his index card with an expression bordering on distaste. He leans down to the microphone.

“Elaine wrote me some suggestions, but I think I’ll wing it.” His voice is slow, deliberate, with a pinch of sarcasm I’m beginning to understand is hereditary among the Templeman males.

A laugh scatters through the room, and Josh sits up straighter. I don’t need to look to know he’s frowning.

“I’ve always expected great things of my son.” Anthony holds the edges of the podium and looks at the crowd. His choice of words also implies that he has only one son. Maybe I’m just reading too much into it.

“And he hasn’t disappointed me. Not once. Never have I gotten the call every parent dreads. The ‘Hey, Dad, I’m stuck in Mexico’ call. Never got that from Patrick.” Bigger laughs from the crowd now.

“Not from me, either,” Josh mutters into my ear.

“He graduated in the top five percent of his class. It’s been a privilege watching him grow into the man you see here,” Anthony intones. “His range of experience has gone from strength to strength and he’s well respected by his peers.”

I can’t detect any particular emotion in his voice, but he does look at Patrick for a fraction too long.

“I must say, the day he graduated med school, I could see myself in Patrick. And it was a relief, knowing we’d continue the medical dynasty.”

Behind my ear, I hear Josh draw in a sharp breath. His arm feels increasingly viselike around my shoulders.

Anthony lifts his glass. “But I believe you’re only as strong as the person you choose to live your life with. And today, by marrying Melinda, he’s made me a proud father yet again. And Mindy, might I say, you’ve chosen an outstanding Templeman to marry. Mindy, welcome to our family.”

We raise our glasses, but Josh does not. I look over my shoulder and see two people, heads together, whispering and watching us. Mindy’s mother looks at Josh with raw pity.

Mindy and Patrick cut the cake and feed each other a square. I’ve been looking forward to some cake for most of the day, and I’m not disappointed. A huge wedge of something chocolate and heavy is placed in front of me.

“Great speech. Thanks for that little remark,” Josh tells his father.

“It was a joke.” Anthony smiles at Elaine, but she’s not pleased.

“Hilarious.” Her glare turns glacial.

I know when a subject change is in order. “This cake looks like death by chocolate. I hope it’s not too naughty.”

“You would be amazed by the damage to arteries caused by high-fat diets,” Anthony pipes up.

“Would you say the occasional treat is okay? I hope so.” I’m forking the cake into my mouth.

“Ideally, no. Saturated fat, trans fats, once they go into your arteries, they aren’t coming out. Unless you have a heart attack and someone like Elaine has to fix you.”

“He’s a little strict with himself,” Elaine assures me as I drop my fork with a clatter and press my hands to my chest. “Treats are okay. They’re better than okay.”

“She asked my opinion,” Anthony points out gravely. “And I gave it.”

I notice he’s got no cake in front of him. I’m reminded of the all-staff meeting. Josh didn’t eat any cake then, either. I glance sideways, and to my surprise Josh picks up his fork and begins eating cake too. It’s a great big giant fuck-you to his dad. Over and over we fork cake into our greedy faces until Anthony’s forehead pinches in distaste, clearly unused to having his sage advice ignored.

“Self-indulgence is a tricky thing. It can be hard to get yourself back on track once you begin indulging trivial little impulses.” Anthony is not talking about cake. Josh drops his fork with a clatter.

Elaine looks wretched. “Anthony, please. Leave him alone.”

“Come with me,” I tell him, and to my mild surprise he rises obediently and walks with me to the shadowed edge of the empty dance floor.

“Can you please explain what’s going on? This tension is excruciating. I’m sorry, but your dad is being a dick. Is he always like this?”

He jams a hand into his hair. “Like father, like son.”

“No, you’re not like this. He’s being bitchy and your mom is upset. His speech was so weird.” Every single time I feel protective of Josh, the realization pings me right in the solar plexus. I take his hand, which is folded into a fist, and smooth my hand over the knuckles.

He watches my fingers. “Dinner’s over. We’ve gotten through it. That’s all I care about.”

“But why does it feel like all eyes are on you? It seems like everyone in this room is looking at you, wondering if you’re coping okay. It’s like, Hang in there, sport.”

“I think they’ll assume I’m not suffering too badly.” He loops a hand around my waist, and the glow of his flattery hits my bloodstream, along with probably two thousand premium cake calories.

“They’re wrong. No one makes you suffer like I do.” I receive a smile for my cleverness. “Are you okay? Please tell me about this Big Scandal that they’re all whispering about. I cannot fathom that you deciding to not be a doctor could cause such a fuss.”

It’s rare to see Josh procrastinate, but he does now. “It’s a long story. Bathroom first.”

“If you climb out the window, I’m going to be really mad.”

“I’ll be back, I promise. I’ll tell you the whole sorry tale. Will you be okay for a minute?”

“I’ve had to make friends with half the people in this room, remember? I’m sure I’ll find someone to hang out with.” I watch him go and strike the most casual pose I can manage.

I haven’t actually spoken to Mindy yet. Outside, she was always being moved around by the photographers, but she’d smiled at me and I have the impression that she is nice. She’s nearby speaking animatedly to an older couple. When they move away, I smile and wave tentatively. I feel bad she has to have strangers at her wedding.

“Hello, Mindy, I’m Lucy. I’m Joshua’s, ah, plus-one. Thank you so much for having me here. The ceremony was lovely. And I love your dress.”

“Nice to meet you. I’ve been dying to.” She smiles broadly, her dark eyes lit with undisguised interest as she looks me over.

“You’re the girl who’s melted the ice man.”

“Oh! Um. I don’t know about melted . . . Ice man?” I’m at my articulate best.

“You know Josh and I dated for a year?” She waves her hand quickly as if it were nothing.

“What? No.” My stomach folds in half. And in half again. She puts one hand to her hair and smoothes the already perfect style. It’s blond. She’s tall, tan, and brown eyed. She’s Tall Blondie.

My mouth is probably a perfect circle. I am speechless. It is all dropping into place. How humiliating would it be to go alone to your ex-girlfriend’s wedding? Especially when she’s marrying your brother?

“How long ago did you meet Patrick?” I am trying to keep my voice modulated. I sound like my car’s GPS.

“I’d known him while dating Josh, of course. When all that business with Josh’s work going through the merger, I started talking to Patrick to try to understand why Josh was being so distant. He isn’t much of a talker, as you know.”

I look at all the strangers who have been staring at Josh all night. They’ve been wondering how he’s coping with seeing this beautiful woman marry his brother. A year. They would have definitely slept together. This willowy, immaculate blonde has lain in his bed. Kissed his mouth. I swallow acid.

“Patrick and I just clicked. It’s been a bit of a whirlwind; we only got engaged six months ago. I still feel bad about it, but Josh and I were not a good fit. I found his moods to be scary sometimes. I still hardly know what to talk to him about. I’m sorry, I’m being rude. Please don’t tell him I said that.”

I feel like I’m about to burst into tears and Mindy watches me with growing alarm.

“I’m sorry, Lucy, I thought he would have told you. He’s so happy with you. I never would have imagined he’d be so completely smitten. He never was with me. I suppose it does make sense. Intense men like him usually fall pretty hard, when they eventually do.”

I force myself to smile, but it’s not convincing. I can’t be responsible for ruining Mindy’s happy wedding buzz, but inside I’m breaking. How could I have been so stupid to think he was walking me around, showing me off, for nothing? I’m moral support while he attends his ex-girlfriend’s wedding. If that isn’t the definition of a rent-a-date I don’t know what is.

“Oh, Lucy. Sorry to upset you, especially if you two are early days. But Josh is yours.”

I manage a weak laugh. He’s really not.

“Patrick is especially surprised. What did he say? Something like, I’ve never seen Josh look like he has a heart.”

“He has a heart.” A self-serving heart, but a heart nonetheless.

A wedding-planner-type person indicates to Mindy and she waves.

“His heart is all yours,” Mindy says and pats my arm. “I’ll be tossing the bouquet now. I’ll aim right for you.”

She weaves through her guests, as poised and gorgeous as I’ll never be.

Arms slide around me from behind. A kiss on the back of my neck, diluted by my hair. The effect is still so potent I have to gulp. The DJ has begun calling the single ladies onto the dance floor. The freak-out is building in my gut. My palms sweat. I need to get out.

“Hi. Where’s all your new friends?” He begins to push me into the growing group of contenders.

“No, Josh. I can’t.”

People are watching us. I’m on the knife-edge of needing to make a scene but knowing I can’t. The tears and panic are welling up inside me. Usually perceptive, he doesn’t see them this time.

“Where’s your competitive spirit?” Josh gives me one last firm push and I’m propelled into a ragtag bunch of females, ranging from a lisping flower girl to a woman in her early fifties who seems to be doing hamstring stretches. Everyone looks at the bouquet. It’s lovely. We all want it.

I see Josh’s mom on the sidelines. She smiles at me, and then it fades, concern filling her eyes. Who knows what my face looks like. Mindy catches my eye and I can see her genuine regret that she has upset me. Josh repositions for a better view and he and his mother swap glances. She gestures to him, he bends his head and she tells him something. He looks at me sharply.

It’s all too much.

“Here we go!” Mindy turns her back on us and mimes doing some practice swings. The bouquet is a pink-lily confection.

I hardly register the slap of the flowers against my chest. They drop down into the waiting arms of the flower girl, who screams in delight. The entire audience is shaking their heads and laughing at my lack of coordination. Everyone turns to the person next to them and says, She could have caught that.

I’m so disappointed in not catching them the freak-out is triggered in full.

I politely laugh and manage to walk slowly from the other end of the dance floor, weaving through the spectators. Now I’m running. I need to get out of this room. I know he’ll be coming after me, so instead of choosing the most obvious sanctuary—the ladies room—I go down the waitstaff passageway and find myself in the garden beside the hotel.

A few boys in white shirts and ties are smoking and fiddling with their cell phones. They look at me with bored expressions. I pick up my pace until I’m trotting, running, the spikes of my heels barely touching the ground. I want to run until I reach the water. I want to leap into a rowboat and sail to a deserted island.

Only then will I be able to face up to it.

I have feelings for Joshua Templeman. Irreversible, stupid, and ill-advised feelings. Why else would this hurt so much? Why did everything in me ache to wrap my arms around the wedding bouquet and see him smile? I dither along the water’s edge.

The footsteps approaching come too fast. I bite back a swell of impatience and open my mouth to give him a piece of my mind.

Then I see it’s Joshua’s mother.