It was a giant basket filled with mementos of our years of friendship, but designed to help her transition to the next stage of her life. I gave her framed pictures, along with matching empty frames to be filled with pictures from the wedding. A mug with a picture of the two of us together on it with the text “Sisters before Misters.” Three wineglasses, labeled “Mr.,” “Mrs.,” and “Third Wheel.” And finally, at the bottom of the basket, a gift-wrapped Snoopy lunch box—the clone of hers from second grade—that I bought off eBay. I had tied a gift tag to the handle and written on it, For an eventual daughter, when she needs to find a lifelong best friend.
Megan cried and enveloped me in a huge hug, making all of the drama feel insignificant.
Megan’s bachelorette party was that night, concurrent with Tim’s bachelor party. We were going out to dinner and then dancing. The bachelor party, according to Megan, was just poker night with the boys.
Alex had told a different story over dinner when I got back from Mexico, however. Tim hadn’t lied to Megan; he thought poker night was the plan. Except no one was actually going to Mark’s house for poker—they were going to a strip club in Baltimore.
“Gross.”
Alex shrugged. “It’s what you do.”
“Okay, but now that I know, what do I tell Megan?”
“You can’t tell her.”
“You’re putting me in a bad spot. Plus I have no filter when I’m drinking.”
“You don’t really have one when you’re sober.”
“Thanks.”
“Just don’t say anything. She won’t ask you if you know different.”
“And if she does?”
“If she does, it’s up to you. Just don’t bring it up. Please.”
Armed with that knowledge, I texted Alex when my Uber pulled up at the restaurant. Be good tonight.
Who me? he asked, followed by the halo emoji.
You AND Tim please.
Will do. You be good too.
I rolled my eyes. I planned to stay relatively sober. Not my night, I reminded myself as I stepped out of the car.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, I replied. Heading into dinner now. Have fun. Just not TOO much!
You too.
Dinner was a little strained, because Claire very vocally resented having both parties on the same day because she had to clean between them and couldn’t rest. And the bachelor party being at the same time meant that she couldn’t stay out late—her husband insisted on going to the bachelor party and the au pair had been on duty all day during the shower. But at least everyone loosened up once she left to go put her daughter to bed after dinner and we got to the first club.
I was hot, but having fun. My hair was frizzy from the DC humidity and I was sure my makeup was a mess after three hours of dancing, but the bachelorette party seemed successful. Megan was happily drunk, but not sloppy, and I kept plying her with water to make sure she wouldn’t feel too horrible in the morning.
When my phone rang shortly after midnight and Alex’s name popped up on the caller ID, I laughed. “Who’s drunk dialing you?” Megan asked. She grabbed my phone. “Alex!” she shouted, sliding the icon to answer it. “How’s poker night? Is Tim behaving?”
My eyes widened. I really hoped there wasn’t a lot of background noise wherever Alex was calling from.
“I can’t hear him,” she said, handing the phone back to me. “It’s too loud in here.”
I held the phone to my ear. “Alex?” She was right, I couldn’t understand what he was saying, but his tone wasn’t happy. “Hang on, let me go outside.”
I made my way through the crowd and down the stairs to the street, walked a little farther to get away from the smokers, then tried again. “What’s wrong?”
“I did something stupid,” he said quickly.
I felt a strange sense of dread. Better him doing something stupid than Tim though. And it wasn’t like I had any right to care if he hooked up with a stripper.
“What did you do?”
“I told Justin we’re sleeping together.”
“You did what?”
“Okay, listen, I know it sounds bad.” His words were slightly slurred. “But I figured it was better than the alternative.”
“What’s the alternative?”
“He was bragging about how he was going to—sleep with you—at the wedding.”
Had I actually been drinking, I probably would have vomited at that point.
“He—what?”
“He was telling everyone, and he was saying how bad you wanted him at the engagement party, and I just—I didn’t say we were together exactly, just that we’d been hooking up for a while now. I didn’t think you’d want him saying that to everyone. Or worse, actually trying to do it at the wedding.”
“I mean—I don’t—but wasn’t there anything else you could have said?”
“It was that or punch him.”
“Ha. Couldn’t you do both?”
He ignored my joke. “But okay, so he didn’t believe me.”
“Why wouldn’t he believe you?”
“Right? It’s not so unbelievable. But anyway, I—the first thing I could think of as proof was our text-message chain. Like it didn’t have anything bad, but it showed that we talk a lot, like every day, so I showed him that and the part about being good tonight convinced him, I think, but I thought you should know.”
“Thank you. Both for doing that and for telling me.”
“You’re not mad?”
“That Justin won’t be trying to—ew, seriously, that’s too gross to even say. No, I’m not mad.”
“He’ll probably make comments about us at the wedding though, so you needed to know.”
“It’s fine, I can pretend it’s true.”
Alex started to say something else but stopped himself.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he said. “I should go back in.”
“Me too. Can I punch him when I see him?”
I could hear the smile in his voice. “As your lawyer, I’d advise against that.”
“And as my fake boyfriend?”
“Go for it.”
“Great. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Lily?”
“Yeah.”
“I really am sorry.”
I rubbed my temples after hanging up. Fucking Justin. It wasn’t bad enough that I hooked up with him once? He had to tell everyone I was going to do it again?
I took a deep breath and went back inside, where Megan immediately grabbed my wrist in a death grasp. “You’re sleeping with Alex?” she hissed.
“What?”
“Tim just texted me that Alex told everyone that you two are, like, together. What the hell, Lily?”
I peeled her fingers off my wrist and rubbed it where her nails had dug in. “I’m not sleeping with Alex. Or anyone, actually.”
“Then what was he talking about? And why was Alex calling you just now?”
“We’re friends. Justin was telling everyone he plans to hook up with me at the wedding, so Alex said that so he’d stop.” I could tell she didn’t believe me. “Honest. I’d tell you if something was going on.”
She scrutinized my face a minute longer, then sighed in relief. “Good. I mean, I want you to be happy and all. But I can’t deal with that drama at my wedding.”
“It wouldn’t be drama,” I said quietly.
“No offense, Lily, but it’s you. You know you can’t handle anything that’s actually good without sabotaging it, and Alex is one of Tim’s oldest friends. He’s not going anywhere just because you decide you don’t like him anymore. This isn’t like when we were younger and I could hate a guy just because you did.”
My lower lip trembled, and I blinked rapidly to keep from crying. “I—”
“Don’t get upset. I’m not trying to be mean. You just don’t do relationships, so it’s for the best if you aren’t sleeping with my husband’s friends. That’s all. Come on. Let’s get another drink.”
I let her pull me back toward the bar, but when she rejoined the rest of her friends, I pulled out my phone and pretended to answer a text.
“I need to go,” I told her.
“Because of what I said?”
“No,” I lied. “Amy is having an emergency about Tyler.”
“Is she okay?”
“Yeah, I’m sure it’ll be fine, but—I need to go.”
“Okay,” Megan said, pulling me in for a hug that I didn’t return. “Call me tomorrow.”
I made it to the sidewalk before I began crying in earnest, then I clung to a lightpost for dear life while I tried to get myself under control enough to walk to the Metro. I swallowed a huge lump and began walking, just needing to get home.
Becca wasn’t at the apartment—it seemed like she never was anymore. I wished she were there. I needed someone to commiserate with, someone who understood.