“You don’t hate the dress?”
I did. I hated it. But I loved Caryn and this was a stressful situation and I hadn’t been any actual assistance when the whole reason she said she needed me as a bridesmaid was to help when the wicked bridesmaids of the west created scenes like this.
“It’s great,” I lied. “I’ll totally wear it the next time I’m a guest at a wedding.”
She hugged me and I mentally tallied which credit card could handle the load. “Thank you, Lily.”
Caryn, Olivia, and Caroline had all driven together and parked on the first level of the garage, Deanna and Mia were both parked on the second level and exited the elevator in a flurry of air-kisses, leaving me alone with Dana as we rode to the third floor. I watched her from the corner of my eye as she dug through her Prada purse for her keys.
What the hell? I shrugged.
“Does Caroline always suck that much?” She looked at me in surprise as the elevator doors opened, as if she had forgotten I was there.
“I don’t—” She stopped herself, took a deep breath, and then replied, “Yes.” I started to laugh. “What’s so funny?”
“You,” I said. “You’re a real person!” She looked confused. “I thought you were all Stepford robots.” She didn’t seem to get the reference. “All perfect and no emotions.”
She looked down. “Oh. No.”
“Sorry. It was a joke.”
“No, I know.”
“Why do you all put up with her if she’s always like that?”
Her face was drawn when she looked back up, as though she was suddenly exhausted. “I don’t really anymore. I try to avoid her as much as I can now. But this is for Caryn. So I’m here.”
“Were you in her wedding?”
“I was.”
“What was that horror show like?”
That elicited the ghost of a smile. “You don’t even want to know.”
“I’m just glad it’s not just me.”
“It’s not. She’s the actual worst person on the planet.” Her eyes widened. “Don’t tell anyone I said that.”
“Your secret is safe with me.” Her shoulders loosened slightly, and we stood in an awkward silence until she said she needed to get home and unlocked the nearby white Mercedes.
“I’ll see you around.”
Dana grinned sympathetically. “Hang in there.”
“You too.” I climbed into my much cheaper car and looked at my reflection in the rearview mirror. I can do this, I thought. Then I saw a long, gray hair, standing out among the rest of my dark strands. I named it Caroline as I clenched my teeth and yanked it out. Did she cause it? Probably not. But damn it.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I called Megan on my way to the bar where Becca was celebrating her birthday that night to tell her about Caroline’s tirade against my perceived physical flaws.
“What a piece of work!”
“I know.”
“Just seven more months and you’ll never have to deal with her again. And it’s really just the shower, the bachelorette party, and then the wedding itself. And there’s no way people like that actually let you do any planning for the shower and bachelorette, so it’ll be minimal contact.”
“Great. Seven months is enough time to drop thirty pounds so I can look like they want me to.”
“Are you going to do that?”
“If you’re trying to tell me I have to lose weight to be in your wedding, we’re not best friends anymore.”
“You’re perfect just as you are,” she said. “Although . . . you said you’d try a minimizing bra for Caryn’s?”
I took a minute before I responded. “You’re not serious.”
“No. I mean. I don’t know. Maybe. If you’re going to buy it anyway.”
“Megs.”
“I just—your boobs are really big. And it’s going to be in a church and all.”
“Are you saying my boobs are too big for God?”
“No. It’s fine. We’ll just make sure they’re covered up in your dress.”
I said okay and told her I needed to go into the bar.
“You’re not mad at me, are you?”
“No. It’s just been a long day.” A long couple of months, actually.
“Okay. I’m sorry. I love you. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“We’ll talk tomorrow,” I agreed and hung up.
What. The. Fuck?
I showed my ID to the bouncer, which felt superfluous. No one was going to confuse me for a teenager anymore. And the underage crowd didn’t exactly do wine bars. But whatever.
“You made it!” Becca threw her arms around me. She had gone to dinner first with some friends, but I’d had to text her from dress shopping that I wouldn’t make it to that part. “Did you get your dress?”
“Happy birthday! And oh God, don’t ask.”
“What happened?”
I gave her the short version. “Are my boobs that offensive?”
“Your boobs are awesome. They’re all just jealous!”
That made some amount of sense. Megan admitted freely to being jealous of my cleavage. I was jealous of her butt. It was a tradeoff.
“No bride wants everyone staring at another girl on her wedding day.”
“I guess. Today sucked though.”
“Grab a drink. You’ll feel better!”
I took her advice and wound up talking to Lisa, one of Becca’s coworkers whom I had always liked. Becca wandered over and plopped down on the couch next to me. “You’re still talking about the dress shopping?”
“Sorry. I’m being insanely boring, aren’t I? I’ll drink more and be entertaining.”
Becca and Lisa laughed. “You’re not boring,” Lisa said.
“I keep saying her life should be a reality TV show. Did she tell you about the groomsman?”
Lisa nodded. “I’d watch.”
I opened my mouth, about to tell her she could follow my exploits on my blog, then stopped myself. One glass of wine and I was about to blow my cover already? No, bad plan. I didn’t know this woman. Instead I excused myself and got up to get another glass of wine. I checked my phone while I waited for the bartender to bring it. Amy had texted me six pictures of bridesmaid dresses. All of them were short and tight. At least she wouldn’t have an issue with my boobs—she had a matching pair.
“Now I know you’re following me,” a voice said.
I looked up, recognizing the voice’s owner. “Seriously? This is getting creepy.”
“You’re the one creeping on my territory.” Alex leaned back against the bar, a glass in his hand.
“Your territory is a wine bar?”
He laughed. “No. I’m on a date. It’s going really bad.”
“You ditched a date to come talk to me?”
“Yeah. I told her you’re an old friend.” He gestured toward a girl, who was watching us with moderate hostility from a table across the room. “Wave for me.”
I obliged. “She’s pretty. What’s wrong with her?”
“I asked her the last book she read, and she doesn’t know because she doesn’t read. And she said something about never trusting the mainstream media.”
“Ouch. Do you need me to fake an emergency?”
“Do you have a camel with you?”
“Cute. Real cute.”
“Hey, I saved you from Justin. Twice, by my count. It’s the least you could do.”
I opened my mouth to say he had only actually saved me once, but I had a feeling that sleeping with Justin might be more damning than being illiterate. “Fine,” I said. “But we’re even after this.” I threw my head onto my arms on the bar and began to pretend I was weeping.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Pat my shoulder, then go tell her I just found out my husband is cheating on me and you have to make sure I get home okay.”
“Will that work?”
“Yes. Now go tell her. With a straight face.”
He left and I continued to pretend to cry. “Lily! What happened?” Becca grabbed my arm.
“Shhhh,” I said. “I’m faking an emergency for Alex.”
“The guy who did the coffee note?”
“The same,” he said, returning. “It worked! She’s leaving.”
“Let me know when she’s gone.”
Alex waited another thirty seconds. “You’re good.”
I picked my head up and took a long sip of the new glass of wine in front of me. “Yes. I am. Alex, this is Becca, my roommate. It’s her birthday today. Becca, this is Alex, the groomsman in Megan’s wedding.”
“Nice to meet you,” Alex said, shaking Becca’s hand. “And happy birthday. Let me get you a drink.”