Page 17 of Even After This
At the sight of the children, my heart pangs. But my optimism bats away the feeling. My past is what it is. Today the present is tempting me to settle and stay a while.
Toby attempts to follow another family out the door, and Sally twists toward me to shout her greeting while grabbing Toby’s hand. “Meredith.”
I bend down to reach for Layla, who is crawling to a great escape. She giggles through the swoop into my arms.
With Toby’s steps redirected, Sally calls to someone a few feet behind me. “Spence, come meet Meredith.”
Layla leans over my arms and tries to catapult herself to the man who is strolling in our direction. “Da!”
The man snags the little girl before she drops to her demise and plops her on his hip. “Hi there. I’m Spencer, Sally’s husband.”
Someone hits the pause button, and I gawk at this demigod.
Spence is Spencer. Spence is Spencer Dean. SPENCE IS SPENCER DEAN.
Spencer Dean, famous for his leading role as a crooked lawyer in a John Grisham blockbuster, is standing in front of me.
“Hello?” The only word I can remember breathes out as my eyes dart between Sally and Spencer Dean.
Spencer smiles, hand held out. “Is that a question? Hello?” He winks.
Spencer Dean winked. At me.
My brain lopes behind the scene like a hound with floppy ears. I am one giant delayed reaction.Get a grip,Meredith.
His eyebrows arch. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
Spencer Dean appears amused.
Meredith Harper is mortified.
“Spence, this is Meredith,” Sally says. “She’s the one I told you about.”
Precious Sally doesn’t understand I’m frozen somewhere back in the giddy land of junior high school.
Spence’s expression changes to one of recognition. “Yes. Meredith. You’re my wife’s superhero.” He closes the gap between us, bends in to grasp my hand, and shakes.
This is getting worse. I have a rule. When I meet famous people, I am not allowed to talk during the first five minutes of the interaction. Anything that comes out of my mouth before the five-minute mark will only be stuttered, jumbled, giggling, nervous, and full of bad jokes. Molly made me swear to this after I met Rachael Ray and pitched the idea of an adult version of the Easy-Bake Oven to her. My sister then sentenced me to Famous People Probation because for me, the initial exhilaration of talking to a celebrity is not worth the aftermath price of humiliation.
But there is no time to wait the required five minutes because I am now BFF status with Sally, the wife of Spencer Dean. Acting cool is imperative. I am just meeting my friend’s husband. Say it again.I am just—breathe—meeting—breathe—my friend’s husband.
“Meredith, are you okay?” Sally purses her lips and her cheeks twitch. Apparently I’m not fooling her.
“Yes, Meredith, are you okay?” booms a voice behind me.
As if I needed another reason to fall into hysteria, Harlan Holcombe saunters into our exchange.
“Hey, man.” Spencer Dean is now talking to Harlan Holcombe. Which might be less alarming if I were watching a movie instead of being in person, with my participation in the discussion required.
“Hi, Meredith.” Harlan observes me, mischievous eyes sparkling.
My lips try to move but fail, and my eyes are wide, frozen in shock. For once, I’m not trying to adhere to the five-minute rule. I am simply immobile.
Harlan joins my worst nightmare as the group studies me. His body remains facing mine, and slowly he stiffens, as if to mirror my stress. “What did you do to her?” he says out of the corner of his mouth.
My face contorts, and it’s regrettable when I use my out-loud voice. “I’m on Famous People Probation.”
Sally snickers in the background, but I can only see Harlan’s head, now cocked to the side. “What?”
