Keeping Secrets in Seattle - By Brooke Moss Page 0,3

the table. It was hard to see her around all of the lit red and green candles, but her face was turned to Alicia, and only her long, dark braids, bound by a beaded barrette, were visible. She didn’t look terribly anxious from the back, but her job as a lawyer required her to appear as cool as a Frigidaire at all times. Though as I watched them, a glimmer of light caught my eye.

There was a ring on Alicia’s finger. A big one.

The oxygen was sucked from the room as Gabe poured a splash of liquid into her glass. It was as if time was moving in slow motion. Gabe lifted a butter knife and struck the side of his wine glass three times, prompting a hush to fall over the crowd.

“I would like to raise a glass…to my fiancée.”

My eyes snapped back to Gabe’s face. Wait…what? Surely, I’d misheard.

As Gabe stood at the head of the holiday table, I stifled a sudden urge to grab the table edge and send all the plates, the food, the candles, the glasses, the silverware—and possibly some of the guests—flying.

“Congratulations, Gabe and Alicia,” someone at the end of the table cheered.

My face heated, and my hands balled into tight fists underneath the tablecloth. I looked away from Gabe. His eyes were too bright, too excited, and he appeared too intoxicated by love for me to witness this scene without having an epic meltdown.

I scanned the people around the table, finding only tears of joy and raised wine glasses. Tears pricked at my eyes and threatened to spill over. I closed them for just a moment, careful not to let the tears fall.

Don’t do this now. Don’t fall apart here. Wait for later.

I took a shuddering breath. My chest tightened.

I loved Gabe. I was supposed to be the woman sitting next to him as he stood there beaming and raising his glass. He was supposed to be gazing excitedly at my face, while I held out my left hand for everyone to see the sparkling engagement ring.

Not hers. Mine.

“Well, a wedding is just what this family needs.” Gabe’s Uncle Roy smacked the tabletop. “A good reason to throw a party.”

Everyone at the long table laughed, and glasses rose all around me. My mother patted my knee and made me jump. “Open your eyes, dear. You’re being melodramatic.”

I opened my eyes, and a couple of hot tears defied my will. They slid down my face, undoubtedly taking my Double Extend mascara with it. Great day to go full-on sixties retro with my makeup. Before anybody could see, I dabbed at my cheeks, hopefully removing any evidence of my anguish.

Gabe’s voice rang out above the music and crowd. “I gave her the ring this morning by the tree in the living room. She jumped up and knocked over Dad’s reading lamp when she hugged me.”

Alicia caught my eye and smiled sweetly, though the happiness didn’t quite meet her eyes, which were narrowed.

How had I not known this was coming? Why hadn’t Gabe told me that he was planning to do this? Hell, three weeks ago, he’d called to tell me that he was trying a new brand of pretzels. Next thing I know he falls off the grid for a week and reappears engaged to a woman he’s only been dating for a couple of months?

I always thought that I’d have more time. It didn’t matter that we’d attempted to date in high school. I’d assumed that we belonged together, and we would give a relationship—beyond friendship—another try. In every fantasy of my own “happily ever after,” it was Gabe I was standing next to. Whenever I’d imagined my wedding day, it was him I was pledging my life to.

“I’d like to propose a toast to my future wife.” Gabe straightened the vintage Armani tie I’d given him for his birthday, and smoothed his starched button-down shirt. A lump formed in my throat as he raised her tiny hand to his mouth and kissed it.

This was too much. I was going to be sick.

My mother laughed nervously. “For heaven’s sake, pull yourself together.” Image was everything to my ex-beauty-queen mother, and it was clear that she didn’t want anyone else to catch on that I was crying at the dinner table.

Gabe’s smile softened a bit as we shared a brief moment. If he saw that I was crying, he didn’t acknowledge it. He raised his glass to me, his action barely noticeable to the chattering