Too Good to Be True Read Online Free Page B

years ago.
    “Um…it’s just a bad idea,” she whispered. “But it’s fine.”
    “What happened?” I asked. The urge to strangle Andrew flared in my gut. “What did he do?”
    “Nothing,” she assured me hastily. “It’s just…um…”
    “What?” I asked again, more forcefully this time. She wouldn’t look at me. Ah, dang it all. “Is it because of me, Nat?”
    She didn’t answer.
    I sighed. “Nattie. Please answer me.”
    Her eyes darted at me, then dropped to the floor again. “You’re not over him, are you?” she whispered. “Even though you said you were…I saw your face out there, at the bouquet toss, and oh, Grace, I’m so sorry. I should never have tried—”
    “Natalie,” I interrupted, “I’m over him. I am. I promise.”
    She gave me a look loaded with such guilt and misery and genuine anguish that the next words came out of my mouth without my being fully aware of them. “The truth is, Nat, I’m seeing someone.”
    Oops. Hadn’t really planned on saying that, but it worked like a charm. Natalie blinked up at me, two more tears slipping down her petal-pink cheeks, hope dawning on her face, her eyes widening. “You are?” she said.
    “Yes,” I lied, snatching a tissue to dab her face. “For a few weeks now.”
    Nat’s tragic expression was fading. “Why didn’t you bring him tonight?” she asked.
    “Oh, you know. Weddings. Everyone gets all excited if you come with someone.”
    “You didn’t tell me,” she said, a slight frown creasing her forehead.
    “Well, I didn’t want to say anything until I knew it would be worth mentioning.” I smiled again, warming to the idea—just like old times—and this time, Nat smiled back.
    “What’s his name?” she asked.
    I paused for the briefest second. “Wyatt,” I answered, remembering my tire-changing fantasy. “He’s a doctor.”

CHAPTER TWO
    L ET ME JUST SAY THAT THE REST of the night went a lot better for everyone. Natalie towed me back to the table where the rest of our family sat, insisting that we hang out together a little, as she had been too nervous to actually speak to me yet this day.
    “Grace has been seeing someone!” she announced softly, eyes shining. Margaret, who had been painfully listening to Mémé describe her nasal polyps, snapped to attention. Mom and Dad stopped mid-bicker to pelt me with questions, but I stuck with my “it’s still a little early to talk about it” story. Margaret raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. Out of the corner of my eye, I scanned for Andrew—he and Natalie had been keeping a bit of a distance from each other out of concern for my tender feelings. He wasn’t in range.
    “And just what does this person do for a living?” Mémé demanded. “He’s not one of those impoverished teachers, is he? Your sisters managed to find jobs that pay a decent wage, Grace. I don’t know why you can’t.”
    “He’s a doctor,” I said, taking a sip of the gin and tonic the waiter brought over.
    “What kind, Pudding?” Dad asked.
    “A pediatric surgeon,” I answered smoothly. Sip, sip. Hopefully, the flush on my face could be attributed to my cocktail and not lying.
    “Ooh,” Nat sighed, her face breaking into an angelic smile. “Oh, Grace.”
    “Wonderful,” Dad said. “Hold on to this one, Grace.”
    “She doesn’t need to hold on to anything, Jim,” Mom snapped. “Honestly, you’re her father! Do you really need to undermine her this way?” Then they were off and running in another argument. How nice that Poor Grace was finally off the list of things to worry about!

    I TOOK A CAB HOME , claiming a misplaced cell phone and a pressing need to call my wonderful doctor boyfriend. I also managed to avoid speaking directly with Andrew. Pushing Natalie and Andrew out of my head à la Scarlett O’ Hara— I’ll think about that tomorrow— I focused instead on my new imaginary boyfriend. Good thing my tire had blown out a few weeks ago, or I wouldn’t