I allowed myself the drive home from Atlantic City to think about what had happened between Max and me. He’d told me he loved me. He’d opened up to me in a way that he hadn’t ever done before. It wasn’t done out of anger or frustration, or in the heat of the moment, like he’d done in the past. He’d said those things when he was calm, self-assured, and completely sober. And despite the fact that his analysis of my relationship with Adam had been off-base, I could respect it. Regardless of what he thought my reaction might have been, he’d had the confidence to express his feelings. And part of me loved him for that, for how truthful and vulnerable he’d allowed himself to be. Mainly because I knew how difficult those two traits can be to show.
But once we were home, I forced all Max-centered thoughts from my brain. I figured all cities with casinos should be treated equally. What happens in Atlantic City, stays in Atlantic City, I told myself. And not surprisingly, I was able to focus on other things fairly easily, especially with the wedding coming up.
When Amanda had asked me to be her maid of honor, I’d anticipated the agonizing responsibilities that go with the title: planning the shower and bachelorette party, shopping for dresses, and making sure all of the little necessities were accounted for. But luckily, Amanda had done most of the planning on her own, which meant I was just along for the ride.
The months leading up to it seemed relatively calm compared to other weddings I’d been a part of: no screaming matches among the bridesmaids since Steph, Danielle, and I were all friends. And Shane’s sister-in-law Talia was also extremely easy to get along with. I’d imagine being married to Ben had given her plenty of practice when it came to putting up with bullshit.
All in all, I’d breezed through the last several months without much trouble at all. Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for the wedding day.
“Amanda, calm down.” I put my palm on her back and began to rub in what I thought were soothing circles. “Just relax and take deep breaths.” Amanda had been gasping, wheezing and, according to her, on the verge of vomiting for the past twenty-five minutes.
“How am I supposed to take deep breaths when you bitches have me breathing into this goddamn paper bag? And why is it so hot in here? It’s only May 10th. This church feels like a third world sweatshop.” She crumpled up the bag and thrust it into my chest. “Someone open a fucking window.”
I nodded to Danielle, who rushed toward one of the two small windows and flung it open. “You’ll be fine, Amanda. I swear. You want this, remember? You love Shane.”
“I’m not talking about love, Danielle. I’m talking about marriage.”
Oh God, here we go.
“You realize I’m gonna have to spend the rest of my life picking up the socks and dishes that Shane leaves all over the house? And his socks are always sweaty.” She jumped up, pacing back and forth between the organ and the brown couch. “I can’t do this. You’ve all got the right idea staying single.”
“Right idea?” Was this girl delusional? “It’s not our idea, you nutcase. No one wants to marry any of us. And when someone finally does,” I gripped Amanda’s shoulders firmly and guided her down to sit on the couch again, “I’m sure you’ll be telling us the same thing we’re trying to tell you: that you’re doing the right thing.”
“Yeah,” Talia spoke up. “Believe me, being married to Ben definitely isn’t a chapter out of some fairy tale. He swears constantly, passes gas at dinner, and has converted half of Kenzie’s playroom into a home brewery.” Talia sat down next to Amanda and leaned over to put her arms around her. “But I love him. And between the two Reed brothers, you definitely got the more refined one.”
Amanda relaxed a bit for a moment and let out a soft chuckle at Talia’s last comment before she jumped right back on the crazy train. “But remember what that psychic said, Lily?”
Ever since we’d gone to a tarot card reader at a local bar the other night, Amanda had been hung up on what the psychic had said about Amanda being sure that she was with the right person and that she didn’t have “eyes for another,” as the psychic had called it. “Amanda, I told you not to put any stock into what that woman said. She reads cards on Friday nights for twenty dollars at a seedy bar. Don’t believe any of that shit.”
Just as I checked my phone to see that the ceremony was about to begin, I heard a knock at the door. Henry’s voice cracked slightly as he yelled, “You girls decent?” He waited a few seconds before continuing. “I mean, it’s okay if you’re not. It’s not like I haven’t seen a little T and A before.”
“Come in, Henry,” Amanda huffed.