Something Blue - Emily Giffin [25]
I got to my office, I settled into my chair in front of my computer and quickly typed out my breaking news:
Good morning, everyone. I just wanted to let you all know that my wedding will not be taking place this Saturday. It was a difficult decision, but I think I'm doing the right thing. I know it's a bit odd to send out a group e-mail regarding such a personal matter, but I thought this was the easiest way.
Perfect. It was strong but emotional. And most important, it clearly signaled that I had done the dumping. I reread it, thinking that something was missing. I added an ellipsis at the end. Yes. Perfect touch. Those three little dots would conjure the sound of my voice trailing away mysteriously. Now for a subject line. Should it say "Wedding" or "Canceled" or "News"? None seemed right, so I kept the subject line blank. Then, as I selected my personal e-mail group and prepared to send the shocking nugget via cyberspace, my phone rang.
"Darcy," my boss, Cal, said in his breathy, effeminate voice. "How are ya?"
"Not so good, Cal," I said in my "I can't deal with taking instructions" voice. One that he knew well. It was the beauty of working for Cal. He was a complete pushover.
"Well, may I please see you in Conference Room C?"
"For what?"
"We need to talk about the Celebrity Golf Challenge."
"Right now?"
"Yes, if you could. Please?"
I sighed as loudly as possible. "Okay," I said. "I'll be there when I can."
Damn. Had I arrived a few minutes earlier, he'd be opening my e-mail and contacting someone else about the golf tournament. I was sure that once I told him the news, he'd pass the project elsewhere, especially if I could work up a few tears. In fact, I could probably squeeze a few leisurely weeks out of my purported hardship. Maybe Marcus and I could even take a vacation together. I minimized my e-mail, deciding that I'd give it a final tweaking and a spell-check before sending, and then made my way downstairs to the conference room. I pushed open the heavy door with a hangdog expression.
And there before me was the entire staff of Carolyn Morgan and Associates, all packed into the room, yelling "Surprise!" and hurling their heartiest congratulations at me from all directions. A gigantic blue box from Tiffany perched on one end of the lacquered table. An ivory-frosted cake with pink gel writing sat temptingly at the other. My heart raced. Talk about your audiences! Talk about your drama!
"We knew you'd expect your party later in the week!" Claire squealed. "Gotcha! And you believed I had that meeting!"
She was right. They had, indeed, gotten me. But I was about to get them right back. Top their surprise. I smiled hesitantly, and said, "You shouldn't have."
"Of course we should have," Claire said.
"No. You really shouldn't have," I said.
Cal stepped toward me and put his arm around me. "Speech," he said.
"I'm speechless," I said. "I'm literally without speech."
"Impossible," Cal said. "I've known you for years and never seen it happen yet."
Laughter rippled through the room, affirming that, indeed, I had the biggest mouth in the place. I cleared my throat again and took a step forward, smiling demurely. "Well. Thank you all so very much… but… there isn't going to be a wedding. I'm not getting married."
Cal and some others laughed again. "Yeah. Yeah. You're going down like the rest of us poor, married fools," he said.
I smiled bravely and said, "No. Actually, I called the wedding off this weekend."
Like a Red Cross volunteer during a fire at an orphanage, Claire sprang into action. "Omigod! No! Way!" She pressed one hand to her temple and whisked me out of the conference room back up to my office, her arm around my waist as if I might, at any moment, faint. "What in the world is going on?" she asked when we were alone.
"It's over." I sniffed.
"Why?