“Why do you ask?”
“I just think that’s awesome! I have always wanted to get married right on the beach, not even wear shoes—maybe just flip-flops or even go barefoot. And then have a party on the sand—a luau with the whole nine yards. The flame throwers, hula dancers, and a pig roast—I mean, how cool would that be, just being super laid back with those you love the most? Without all that hoity-toity stuff ?”
“Why did you just use that word?”
“Which word?” Courtney asks, her eyes widening.
“Hoi . . . ty . . . toi . . . ty.” I drag out each syllable dramatically, never unlocking my gaze from hers.
Has she been talking to Max about this?
“I don’t know. That’s just how I’d describe most weddings . . . Sorry, did I upset you?”
“That word really just popped into your head? You didn’t hear it from someone else?”
Like my fiancé?
“No . . . I swear!” Courtney gives me a bemused expression. “This is the first I’m hearing of your wedding having any changes to it at all. The last time you and I talked, you were trying to decide if you should serve chocolate fondue at the reception.”
I stare at her for a moment, searching for any signs of deception, then almost laugh out loud because how would I even know if she was telling the truth? She’d already fallen for my fiancé right under my nose once; what’s to say she wouldn’t lie to me now? But there was still something about her reaction, which seemed so raw and unrehearsed, that made me believe her. She really did want to wear a damn coconut bra on her wedding day. Which meant she shared the same opinion as Max did just because—another thing they had in common. No-frills weddings and bad nineties bands. What was next? I didn’t want to find out.
“I swear, Kate, you’ve been acting really strange the past few days. One second you’re up, the next you’re down. Are you okay?”
No, I’m not okay! And you are the reason why!
I swallow the urge to accuse her of having serious feelings for Max. To ask her why, when there are a gazillion other guys on the planet, she would want mine. Why she threw what I thought was a solid friendship away. But I can’t. I need more time. Because the last thing I’d want is for my accusations to throw them closer together.
“I’m just freaking about how the wedding will turn out,” I say, because it’s the only truthful statement I can think of.
? ? ?
I toss my car keys to the valet at The Grove and run to meet Jules just as the sun is setting that night. Already twenty minutes late, I pull open the door to the Tommy Bahama store and find her sitting on a wicker chair with her arms crossed over her chest.
“Yeah, this is exactly how I wanted to spend my evening—staring at sixty-year-old men modeling Hawaiian shirts and fisherman sandals for their wives.” She motions her head toward a man griping about not needing a second pair of silk pleated pants, his wife rolling her eyes. “Not help you find something for Max and his groomsmen to wear for the wedding.”
“Sorry I’m late. There was horrible traffic.”
“You could have solved that problem with a few clicks,” she says matter-of-factly.
“I can’t, because, like I mentioned in my text the other night, I have to be more conservative with how I use—” I lower my voice as a sales associate walks by. “How I use this power.”
I fill her in on my run-in with Ruby at Palms Thai and she eyes me skeptically.
“So then why did you wish up Liam the hot new girlfriend?”
“She’s not that hot,” I say.
“Sure, if you don’t count her tiny waist and gorgeous Angelina Jolie–like face.”
“Anyway,” I say as I start to sift through a pile of linen shorts. “I asked for that for Liam right before Ruby told me the wishes were going to run out eventually. I have no idea how many more are left—she was cryptic, only saying they were finite.”
“So that means you still have the ability then?” Jules asks, a faraway look in her eyes.
“Why are you acting like I’m a drug dealer and you need some of my crack?” I say, sliding down in the chair next to her. “What’s going on with you? Wasn’t the makeover enough?” I ask. “You look amazing.”
“Thanks. And I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. I guess I just thought that it would make me feel better than it did—that Ben would notice it more.”
“What was his response?”
“He told me I looked hot and then fell asleep when I ran upstairs to turn off the kids’ lights,” she says with a groan. “Then he left again this morning for Orlando, or was it Omaha?”
“So then, when he gets back home, put the kids to bed early and wait for him in the bedroom and make him take notice. The kids can sleep with the lights on!”