Audre & Bash Are Just Friends(89)
Reshma smiled softly. “You are.”
“No, you.”
With glistening eyes, she outstretched her arms. “I’m sorry, doll.”
“I know,” said Audre, leaning in for a fast hug. She wasn’t ready to forgive Reshma completely. She still felt so betrayed—just a pawn in Reshma’s game. But she wasn’t speaking to her mom and wasn’t allowed to speak to Bash. Honestly, Audre couldn’t bear to lose anyone else. And in the end, Audre knew she wasn’t trying to hurt her with those antics. Reshma just couldn’t see beyond herself sometimes.
“How can I make it up to you?”
Audre looked up to the sky, mulling it over. The answer came to her in a flash. “Bring Clio to the wedding. As your plus-one. Then at least I’ll know that some good came out of your antics.”
Reshma grimaced, nervously flipping her hair to one side. “She’d never say yes. Clio has principles. I’m dead to her.”
“You both tricked each other. Which means you’re even. You can start over. Clean slate.”
“Hmm. Not no.” She pursed her lips, thinking about this. “You have a point.”
“Duh. I’m a professional.”
Reshma grinned at her. Audre grinned back. And then they linked arms, walking out of the park together. Audre hadn’t forgiven her completely, yet. But she would.
When they stopped to let a group of rowdy tweens pass, her phone buzzed.
Ellison: 2 things. 1) i’m not apologizing anymore 2) keep your bf away from me 3) pls pls tell me if u told anyone? PLS
“On top of everything, the little bitch can’t count,” muttered Reshma, peering over Audre’s shoulder.
Without pausing to think, Audre blocked his number. She should’ve done it months ago—but it always seemed pointless. What would be the point? Sure, Ellison wouldn’t be able to contact her. But she’d still be stuck with the memory of prom night. Blocking him would’ve been a Band-Aid.
Today, though, Audre welcomed the Band-Aid.
Violence is never the answer, she thought. But I can’t deny that it was satisfying, watching Bash punch Ellison in his smug little face. If that makes me unevolved and shallow, then so be it. He did what I’d done in my head, in fantasies. In a way, it felt like the universe (i.e., Bash) had almost evened the score.
Just then, Audre had a thought. She remembered a useful trick from years of watching horror movies with Eva. When confronted by a ghost, a poltergeist, or anything else that was haunting you, there was only one way to take the power out of it. Acknowledge its presence, make peace with it, and then let it go.
For better or worse, Bash punching him was the acknowledgment. Blocking Ellison would bring her peace. And she decided that, the following week, she’d finally talk to her therapist about prom. That’d be her way of letting the whole thing go.
Despite the nagging misery of missing Bash, Audre knew that she’d be okay. Not today or tomorrow. But hopefully soon. And then forever.
Chapter 37
“Raise your glasses, everyone! Toast time!” A drunk friend of Eva and Shane’s was squawking into a microphone she’d swiped from the event planner. She was wearing a ballgown and somebody’s tie knotted around her head. “Glasses up! A toast to Eva and Shane, the only novelist couple to have a healthy relationship in the history of book publishing! They’re literal unicorns! Authors should never date, late alone get married, am I right? So much dysfunction, hahaha. But these two break the mold! They’re gonna make it. Cheers! Woo-hooo!”
The toast was… dark, but the guests were too tanked to notice. A giddy “WOOOO!” rang out throughout the Prospect Park Picnic House grounds, followed by the clinking of roughly two hundred champagne glasses.
Weakly, Audre raised her glass of sparkling apple cider. She was sitting on a rustic picnic table on the outside of the action, balancing Baby Alice on her knee.
Toasts made Audre so uncomfortable. It gave her the same squeamish feeling she had at hibachi restaurants—watching the chefs do tricks with butcher knives and fire. What if they messed up? What if they gave themselves a third-degree burn or took someone’s eye out with a flying shrimp? Impossible to eat under such stressful conditions.
Audre was miserable.
But the wedding was pretty, she had to admit. The meadow surrounding Prospect Park’s Picnic House had been turned into a dark academia wonderland for the big day. Piles of vintage books were used as cocktail tables. Typewriter planters held romantic lilac bouquets. Hanging lanterns lit up the night sky. And in the center of everything was a wooden dance floor, where Flip It and Reverse It—the band led by Clio’s (ex?) boyfriend, Jake-Anthony—played throwback R&B. It was sort of amusing watching a bunch of sloshed adults wiggle around to “The Thong Song” in their black-tie finest. But other than that, Audre was in hell.
Oh, she was doing her job, though. As the “Bridesdaughter of Honor” (Baby Alice was the “Ringbaby”), she made sure to smile sweetly during the ceremony and be social during the reception. She’d posed for pictures with the happy couple and hugged and kissed them both. She helped her mom with her veil before the ceremony and danced at the reception with Shane for a song and a half. If this were school, she would’ve gotten a 100 percent plus extra credit for this wedding.