He shrugged. “It’s Andrew now. But you can call me Andy if you want.”
I used to babysit for him when I was fourteen and he was eight. Meaning he was now—I did the math quickly in my head—twenty-six. And I had been his babysitter. Nope. Absolutely not. I dropped his hand and backed away a step.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m sorry. Too weird for me.”
“What is?”
I gestured to the space between us. “This.”
“Dancing?”
“My grandma—trying to set me up with someone I babysat for.”
“That was almost twenty years ago. We’re both adults now.”
“Look, Andy, I’m sure you’re great and all. But no amount of adult erases that. I could be eighty-six and you could be eighty and it’d still be gross.”
He shrugged again. “Your loss. Your grandma made you sound pretty desperate.”
“Okay,” I said. “Thanks. Bye. Have a nice life.” I dashed back to the table, snatched up my purse, and ran out of the terraced area where the party was.
I found a set of cushioned wicker sofas encircling an empty firepit just around the corner and collapsed onto one, both grossed out and hurt that he had called me desperate.
I hated everyone at that stupid wedding. I hated Jake and Madison for making me come here, where I was forced to share a room with my grandmother and then exposed to ridicule like this. I didn’t stop mattering just because I was thirty-two and single and they were younger and getting married.
I pulled my phone out, and I didn’t hold back. When I was done, I didn’t even proofread it, I just hit “Publish,” then closed my eyes to regain my composure. The blog was cathartic that way. By the time I published it, I had flushed most of the anger and shame out of my system. I would be expected to rejoin the party with a smile on my face and, having just eviscerated them anonymously on the internet, I could do that.
On my way back into the party, I stopped in the bathroom to do a makeup touch-up. The sun had set, so the lighting was forgiving, but I didn’t want to look like anything was amiss for pictures.
Madison was in there with her sister and two friends, who were giggling about having just held her dress so she could pee.
“Lily,” she greeted me warmly, coming over and taking my hands in hers. I started in surprise, mixed with a little guilt. “Amy told me what happened with your room and I wanted to apologize—I had no idea about the mix-up.”
I shook my head. “My grandma called the agent and told them she was rooming with me. It wasn’t anyone else’s fault.”
“But we could have rearranged some of my friends and found a room for you. I’m sure we still can for tonight if you want?”
“That’s—kind—of you. But no. She’d be offended if I did that. And it’s just one more night of her snoring.”
“Thank you for putting up with the inconvenience to be here. It means so much to me. And to Jake, although he’d never say it, of course.”
“Of course.”
“We’d love it if you’d come to Chicago to visit us sometime.”
“I—uh—sure. After all these weddings. Maybe.”
Madison’s mother walked into the bathroom, looking for her, and told her that one of her uncles wanted to dance with her. Madison excused herself and her friends went with her, leaving me alone in the bathroom, where I gripped the sink and stared at myself in the mirror.
She’s nice, I thought. And at least I hadn’t trashed her specifically in the blog. Mostly because I had absolutely nothing to say about her. But I still felt guilty. Here she was inviting me to come visit her, when I had made absolutely no effort to get to know her. What was wrong with me?
I left the bathroom and grabbed another glass of champagne, which I promptly downed.
I woke up in pain. My head hurt, which I assumed was the champagne, but so did my arms, shoulders, and neck.
“Good morning,” my grandmother said, observing me from the room’s chaise lounge, a glass of orange juice in her hand. I cringed and sat up, rubbing my forehead.
“Everything hurts.”
“I should say so. That’s quite a sunburn you got.”
I looked down at my arms in alarm. They were bright red, with pale stripes where my dress had been. It hadn’t occurred to me to put sunscreen on for the ceremony, which was outside, as were the pictures and reception. “Oh no,” I said weakly, sinking back down against the pillows. “Caryn is going to murder me.”
“Who’s Caryn?”
“Not my girlfriend, if that’s what you’re asking. She’s getting married in three weeks and I’m a bridesmaid in her wedding and she was very clear about no tan lines.”
“I don’t think that’s within her control anymore,” my grandmother said wryly. She held out her glass to offer me a sip. “Hair of the dog?”
Apparently it wasn’t just orange juice in her cup. I shook my head, which I instantly regretted, and hoped a little booze would make her more docile for the trip home, rather than more belligerent. Then I went to take a very cool shower.
I read through the latest notifications on my blog over breakfast. There were a lot of them. I was finally picking up some steam and would hopefully be generating some revenue from it too. One person even commented that I should be writing a book. Well, that’s an idea, I thought. Not now, of course. But someday. Maybe.
I looked around the table at my family. Everyone looked as queasy as I did, and mine was far from the only sunburn. Amy burst into tears when my grandmother told her she looked like a lobster.
“What are you so upset about? You have more than a month until your wedding. You won’t be burned by then,” my grandmother said, throwing up her hands as my mother comforted Amy. She turned to me. “This is why you’re so much more fun, Joan. You can take a joke.”
My father caught my eye, clearly holding in a laugh. “Yeah, Joan,” he said, chuckling.
I glared at him over my coffee, then went back to my phone.
Alex texted me while I was reading comments. So? Sock or no sock?
No sock. But she tried to fix me up with a kid I BABYSAT for.
Nice. Did it work?
I responded with a puking emoji.
Guess that’s a no then. What time do you get home today?
Five.
Wanna grab a drink to decompress?
No more drinks! I sent the emoji with the girl holding her arms across her face in an X shape.
He sent a laughing emoji. Oh, all-inclusive resorts. You’ve claimed another victim.
Dinner instead? I have no food at my apartment.
Sure. Text me when you land.
CHAPTER THIRTY
With Jake and Madison’s wedding done, I entered the homestretch of the final six weeks until Megan’s wedding.
The next event was Megan’s bridal shower and bachelorette party on the Saturday after Jake’s wedding. My sunburn began to fade to tan, and I spent an inordinate amount of time googling natural-looking self-tanners to fill in the white spots before Caryn’s wedding. I couldn’t afford another screwup there.
The shower went smoothly. I arrived two hours early to help set everything up with the rest of the bridesmaids, and the weather cooperated enough to allow us to congregate on the patio by the newly opened pool. I wore carefully applied SPF 70 on my tanned areas and nothing on the white lines to try to even everything out naturally.
“What’s this?” Megan asked when she got to my gift. Claire and her husband had bought a present together, and the rest of the bridesmaids chipped in to buy from the registry, but I had done my own thing.
“Open it,” I told her.