For the Love of Friends(21)

Megan grabbed my arm and dragged me into the powder room, nearly spilling my martini on her new floors. “I’m going to kill her,” she hissed.

“What? Who?”

“Claire. Tim’s sister.”

I mentally flipped back through the bridesmaids. Tim’s sister was the tiny one with a severe case of resting bitch face. She couldn’t have been more than four foot eleven, but what she lacked in size, she made up for in attitude—all of it negative. Megan had been complaining about her from the moment they met. “What did she do?”

“She just can’t ever say anything nice. Like we just bought a house. Of course it’s not perfect yet, but do you really walk into someone else’s new house and start listing all the things that are wrong with it?”

“What an angry little troll,” I commiserated. “Who does that? What was she even saying? The house is awesome.”

Megan was blinking rapidly like she was trying not to cry. “Just harping about the carpets and the layout of the kitchen and the appliances. We’re going to get new appliances after the wedding, you know.”

“Aw Megs, I know. She’s just jealous. Where does she live?”

Megan grabbed a tissue from the holder that perfectly matched the rest of the bathroom and started dabbing at her eyes to keep her makeup from running. “In a mansion in Potomac. New construction, of course, with a pool. Her husband’s parents bought it for them.”

I rolled my eyes. “And you’re crying over what she thinks? Come on, how miserable does she have to be that she’s living in a free house and is picking on yours?”

“It’s not just that. She’s so down on everything we do for the wedding too. She told me she’ll only be in the wedding if she gets to pick her own dress. Like what am I supposed to say to that? It’s my wedding. So I either have to let her decide what the bridesmaids wear, or else tell Tim his sister can’t be in the wedding. What a horrible thing to do to someone.”

I thought about what I had seen in my recent forays onto Caryn’s Pinterest boards. “What if you give her a couple of options? Like where all the bridesmaids wear the same color but can pick from a few styles?”

Megan nodded. “I guess. It’s not how I pictured it, but it’s better than just having insane mismatched dresses everywhere. But what if she won’t even agree to the colors?”

I planted my hands behind me and hopped up onto the bathroom counter to sit. “Then it’s her choice to not be in the wedding. Not yours.”

“But the numbers won’t match.”

“She’s going to wear the color you pick. I promise. She’s not going to pass up the chance to be in the wedding so she can say something rude to you on your actual wedding day too.”

“If she makes me cry on my wedding day—”

“I’ll trip her and then, oops, I stepped on her face. So sorry. Must have been the dress she picked that made her fall.”

Megan laughed finally. “You can’t step on my sister-in-law’s face.”

“If she makes you cry on your wedding day, watch me.”

Megan looked in the mirror and gave her eyes a final pat with the tissue. “We should get back out there.”

I nodded. “Claire’s probably spreading rumors about your kitchen floor.”

“She would,” Megan said conspiratorially. “Thanks, Lil.”

“What are maids of honor for?” I jumped off the counter, linked arms with her, and pulled the powder room door open.

“Do you want to sleep over tonight? So you can actually drink? We have the guest room all made up.”

“I can’t.” Nor did I want to, with Justin lurking about. “I’m going dress shopping with my mother and Amy tomorrow.”

Megan laughed, all trace of her earlier misery gone. “That’s so cute! They’re looking for a dress like she’s actually getting married?”

I groaned. “It’s like a toddler playing dress-up.”

Megan nodded distractedly, then saw someone near the front door and called out, “Maria!” Untangling my arm from hers, she rushed off to greet her newest guest.

I looked around. I could stick to Megan’s side all night, but with her running around in manic hostess mode, that didn’t seem particularly appealing, even though it was the safest option. Better to mingle a bit and then make an early escape. I had a sip of my drink left. Justin wouldn’t still be in the kitchen, right? I drank the last drops and decided to risk it for a second and final drink.

The room was more crowded, but I didn’t see Justin, so I mixed myself a new martini. I speared as many olives as I could and walked toward the living room to see who else I knew.

Then an arm dropped heavily around my shoulder, and I looked up in revulsion at the one person whose arm I truly did not want around me. “Um,” I said uncomfortably, moving out from under it. “What’s up? How are you?”

“How are you?” Justin asked. “Really? That’s all I get?”

“Do you want an olive?” I held up the pick from my drink.

He bent down and bit one of them, sliding it off the spear, looking up at me as he did it. I felt nauseous. That was the opposite of sexy. “It’s a start. I was surprised I didn’t hear from you after the engagement party.”