“Thank you.” She pulls a tissue out and blows her nose.
I stare at my steering wheel, letting my fingers trace the symbol in the center.
“Even if what you said is true, it doesn’t matter now. What’s done is done. You can’t change the past,” I lie, and wonder if Courtney had the chance to go back, what she would do differently.
“He won’t talk to me, you know. At least you—you are giving me a chance to explain.”
“That’s not why I’m here. And I don’t need your justification,” I say simply, but my voice sounds sharp and I notice Courtney flinch slightly. But she stays silent; even her tears have quieted.
“I just needed to tell you that you obviously can’t come to the wedding or any other wedding-related event—” I stop when I see the expression in Courtney’s eyes—she’s feeling sorry for herself. And suddenly I remember I’ve seen that look before. It was when I’d found her and Max talking at my rehearsal dinner and naively asked her to take our photo. I hadn’t been able to place it then—the emotion I was seeing reflected in them—but now I realize it was pity. She hadn’t felt sad about what she and Max were about to do to me, she’d felt sorry for me. She had known that Max was going to leave me in just minutes for her, and she’d stiffly taken our picture then disappeared into the night so she didn’t have to face her part in it. “But more than that, we—you and me, you and Max—none of us can continue being friends. This is not repairable.”
Courtney’s face turns ashen, but she simply nods. She knows what we all had is now broken. And without uttering a single word, she opens the door and steps out. I watch her walk away, wondering why I don’t feel more victorious.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Friendship is always a sweet responsibility, never an opportunity. #truth
“I draw the line at sucking on peppermint pecker mints or penis pops!” I laugh into the phone as Jules rambles on about the favors she’s buying for my bachelorette party. I can hear her rummaging through the shelves of Sugar & Spice & Everything Not Nice on Wilshire Boulevard, her high-pitched giggle breaking into the conversation every few minutes as she discovers some hilarious trinket shaped like a man’s junk.
“Oh, honey, you better get on board—it’s a bachelorette party! You should see what I’m holding right now! Glow-in-the-dark pecker ring toss! Oh my God, I didn’t even know this existed—they’ve come a long way since the penis straws we had at mine!” We burst into laughter, us both remembering Jules dancing on the bar as she sipped her cocktail—as she kept calling it—nearly falling off the bar as she tried to mimic the scene from Coyote Ugly, the night ending with us getting escorted out and hanging our heads in mock shame on the curb until Ben came to get us.
For some reason, Jules had it in her head that she needed to change my entire bachelorette party plan from what she’d done last time, even though the mellow night she’d organized before, when I’d simply worn a bride-to-be sash and subtle veil, had been perfect—me having no idea of the heartbreak that was waiting for me around the corner. “The only thing we need to change this time around”—I’d breathed heavily into the phone when I’d called Jules yesterday just minutes after my unsettling conversation with Courtney—“is the guest list.”
Jules listened quietly as I told her about the talk Courtney and I had had in my car. As soon as I finished, she blurted, “You’re a better woman than I would’ve been!”
“Why do you say that?”
“It would have been hard not to pop her in that gorgeous mouth of hers!”
“Don’t get me wrong—it’s not like I haven’t thought about it. But it’s weird. As angry as I am with what she did, part of me feels sorry for her too. I don’t think she could feel any worse—not even if I gave her a black eye.”
“If you say so.”
“I do say so,” I confirm. “I just want to try to move on from it all. To get on with my life with Max. To focus on our future.”
“I agree. And first up on that agenda? A kick-ass bachelorette party! With penis necklaces!”
“Okay,” I concede, too exhausted to argue. Besides, it seemed to make her happy—she’d been subdued lately, and planning this her way would hopefully snap her out of the funk she’d been in.
“Jules?” I try to get her attention over the beeping sounds suddenly ringing through the phone.
“Kate, you’ll never believe what I just found!”
“I’m not sure I want to know,” I say slowly.
“Electronic strip poker!” she squeals, and the beeps begin again.