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“Nice ride.” Courtney walks up as Max is shutting the door to the Escalade. “And you couldn’t pick me up because?” she asks lightly, but there is an accusation in her voice. I’ve seen the confusion in her eyes when I gave her my clipped answers or brushed past her in the kitchen at work this week—and she had probably chalked it up to prewedding stress. Little did she know she was my prewedding stress.
I put my arm around Max’s waist possessively. “We needed some alone time,” I say as I wink at her, hoping she’ll assume we’d gotten down and dirty on the way here. The truth was Max had taken a phone call from his boss and had spent most of the ride discussing something about trial results as I Instagrammed pictures of the limo and caught up on my Trivia Crack games.
“Let’s head inside,” Max says, pulling my arm toward the entrance as Courtney falls in step beside us.
“Wait—Liam should be here any minute.” My phone buzzes in my pocket. “This is probably him.”
The text is from Jules, the third she’s sent in less than a minute, profusely apologizing for canceling. She writes that she wants to kick her babysitter’s ass for coming down with strep throat even though she’s quite sure Ellie gave it to her. And that she wants to kick Ben’s ass for traveling all the time. I text her back immediately, the words from the fight I’d overheard still ringing in my ears, wishing I could help her get some adult time or that I could make Ben get home to her.
It’s FINE! You know I wish I could wish for a new babysitter! But I need to be more careful with my wishes—I don’t know how many I have left.
As I wait for her response, I bite my lower lip, understanding but hating at the same time that she won’t be by my side tonight—needing her to tell me it’s all in my imagination when I notice a look or smile shared between Max and Courtney. And wanting her to stare down Courtney with the look of death that she usually only reserves for people who cut her off in traffic or after she wastes her precious free time by watching a bad episode of Nashville.
I understand—but at least Liam will still be there! I told him he could have my ticket and he said he’s bringing a date! I want the SCOOP.
I look around. Liam and his mystery date are late. And if he cancels on me too, I’m not sure how I’ll get through this night.
I turn to see Courtney and Max waiting near the door, the matching looks on their faces telling me I am screwing up their preconcert mojo big-time. “Sorry! Just a minute.” I hold up my finger. There is no way I am sending them inside without me. I scan the people walking up from the parking lot. Come on, Liam.
He rounds the corner a moment later, his broad shoulders blocking the woman behind him, a dopey grin on his face. When he reaches me, he leans in and whispers, “It worked, Kate. It fucking worked—look who I’m with!”
I glance beyond Liam, where a crowd has already formed around Nikki Day—she’s smiling and signing a man’s arm but shoots Liam a pleading look. “You better go save her,” I say with a laugh, and pull the tickets from my purse.
Once we’re seated, Liam properly introduces us to Nikki. I wince when she compliments Courtney’s new haircut, saying she’s wanted to get the same one, but the producers of her new show won’t let her. “It’s fabulous,” she reiterates as she reaches up to touch it, Courtney blushing modestly.
As I sit sandwiched between the two couples, sipping my Corona, it’s hard not to feel like a fifth wheel, with Liam barely able to tear his eyes away from his date, while Courtney and Max jokingly argue over whether Soul Asylum will play “Without a Trace” or “Runaway Train” for their final final encore song.
“ ‘Runaway Train’ would be appropriate for this train wreck of a night,” I mutter to myself, wondering what the hell I’m doing. I’ve painted my face, I’ve shown interest in what Max loves, I even brought him here in style. But I still can’t pull his attention from Courtney.
And Liam seems to have conveniently forgotten that he’s here to help me, not hang on Nikki’s every word like he’s her lapdog. I narrow my eyes at him, him mouthing sorry and quickly shifting his body toward mine.
“So, Max,” he says, raising his voice over the preconcert music playing. “Can’t wait until the wedding, bro!” He reaches over and slaps him on the back—hard, Max’s eyes opening wide in surprise. “Only three and a half weeks before you marry the girl of your dreams.” Liam holds his gaze as he says the last part, almost daring Max to break eye contact. “You are one lucky man.”
“Yeah, it will be great.” He smiles and squeezes my knee.