Ishanilifted a small orangePomeranianout of her bag and addressed it in a childish voice. ‘Ohmy littleFufu!Areyou feewing left out?’Sheheld up the dog and rubbed her nose against its wet nose.
Param-jerk, softening into a different person, took the fluff ball and cradled it like a baby. ‘There’smy girl!’Alittle pink tongue whipped out and licked him on the lips.
HesettledFufuonto his lap.Placingher hand on top of the rodent-sized animal,Ishanisaid, ‘Fufu’sour practice baby.’Shelaughed like it was funny. ‘We’lldefinitely want some photos with her at the wedding.’
Practicebaby?Francescafought the urge to roll her eyes and lost.Practicebaby.Fuckoff.
Sheturned her head to study the couple.Theylooked like two people who had everything in life handed to them, who never had to deal with real problems.Theirclothes, their mannerisms, their accents, their perfect dog.Francescahad worked with people who lived on the streets, who had been sexually assaulted at work, who had lost their jobs and not known where their next meal would come from.Thesetwo snobs would crumple under the pressures of the real world.
Francescacould feel her rage growing quietly hotter.Herbreathing became more shallow as she struggled with her inner beast.
Sometimesshe keenly understood the inequality of life.Didthis couple ever stop to consider how lucky they were simply to have found love?Theydidn’t have to consider chronic pain and their fertility before saying ‘Ido’.Theygot to have a ‘PracticeBaby’, with the expectation of a real one down the line.Whydid she have to wait for her life to start while this prick and his fiancée had everything fall into their entitled laps?
Divorcees.ThatwasFrancesca’splan.Rightnow, she would wait.Whileher contemporaries coupled up, married, and started families, she would wait.Waitfor the separations and divorces.Waitfor the men who already had all the kids they wanted, who were looking for an acceptable step-mother for their darling children.Maybeshe could be that step-mother.Withher tender nature and strong maternal instincts, she’d be a perfect fit.
Shehuffed with sardonic mirth and sliced her gaze away from the couple.Whowas she kidding?Thosekids would probably call her step-monster behind her back and make voodoo dolls with her face at summer camp.
Butslotting into a ready-made family might be the only way she could get one of her own, the life she desired—the life that these two trust-fund babies so effortlessly took for granted.
Sheenvied them their carefree love and their ‘PracticeBaby’.
Thewords came out of her mouth before she even realised that her lips had opened. ‘Youdon’t deserve to be this fucking lucky.’
13
Krishblinked.Whatthe bloody heck did she just say?
Theroom went silent and even the dog seemed to freeze.Toher credit,Francescaalso looked horrified at what had just come out of her mouth: her eyes stretched wide and she pursed her lips as though trying to imprison further words inside.
‘Well,’ said the bride.
‘Whatdid she say?’ asked the groom.
Frantically,Francescalocked her gaze onKrish.Hegot the impression she was willing him to smooth things over, but there were limits to his charm.
‘Um.’Hismind went empty as a white board, waiting for ideas.Whatmagic words would make ‘Youdon’t deserve to be this fucking lucky’ sound like a sane thing to say?
Hiseyes fell on thePomeranian, who raised an eyebrow at him and panted.Eventhe pooch wanted to know howKrishwould get out of this.
Thenit came to him.Theonly thing he could think of that might make this canine-loving couple sympathetic towards her.Herearranged his face into the picture of concern. ‘Herdog died yesterday!’
Ishanigasped andParamjeethuggedFufucloser.Theyall turned towardsFrancesca, includingKrish, whose eyes begged her to play along.
Amoment’s pause.Krishheld his breath, unsure if she'd run with his ruse.Hehated lying, but he had no other ideas to reverse her epic blunder.Hismental white board saidDOGin big, black marker.
Herbottom lip quivered, and she started sobbing.Hershoulders shook with grief.Saltytears wandered down her cheeks.Sheeven managed a shuddering breathanda plaintive sigh.He’dnever realised thatFrancescawas such a good actress; she wasnailingthis role.Ishani’seyes melted with sympathy and evenParamjeetwas nodding his head, full of understanding.Krishstruggled not to break into a relieved smile.
Francescatook a tissue from a box nearby and honked into it. ‘I’mso s-sorry,’ she said.Withoutanother word, she shot to her feet and ran into the editing room, closing the door behind her.
‘Poorwoman,’ saidIshani, turning her head towardsKrish. ‘Whatkind of dog was it?’
Whatkind of dog wouldFrancescahave?Theonly one he could think of in that moment was—
‘Adoberman.Cujo.Sucha sweet,sweetdog.’Wasthat the best he could do?GiveFrancescaan imaginary pet named after a murderous character in aStephenKingnovel?Hismental white board was shit.
Theywere both taking turns to hugFufulike she might drop dead at any second.NowKrishreally needed to bring the conversation away from dead dogs and back to weddings. ‘Listen,IknowFrancescamay seem a little emotional today, but it’s that same emotion that makes her passionate about capturing weddings with care and…such, suchfeeling.’Wow, the bullshit was flowing thick and fast now, but they were both nodding along, so it seemed to be working. ‘Wewould love to shoot your wedding, so how about it?Shallwe sign the contract?’
Krishwavedgoodbye toParamjeetandIshani.