How to Ruin a Wedding(65)

We all rush to the fitting rooms to remove our clothes. I’m too late, and all the rooms are taken, so I pace. Then I realize Olive isn’t with me.

I head out back to the main room and find her with Erin.

“Is this why you’ve been ignoring my calls?” Erin pokes at Olive’s shoulder.

Olive, my precious girl, has her head facing the floor as she says, “I’ve just been busy.”

Erin snorts. “Right, it isn’t because you’ve got even fatter? Please, that’s why you have to wear this gross dress. But, whatever, I’ll forgive you for ignoring me if you take Ashley and me with you to Valerie’s salon. My stupid aunt still hasn’t got an invite, and we want to cut our hair there.”

My jaw drops. I move forward, but someone—Jennifer—grabs my shoulder and says, “Room is free if you want it.”

When I turn back to the girls, Erin is smiling sweetly at us, while Olive, head still down, hurries to the fitting room. As she goes, all I can think is My baby, and the visceral, all-consuming protectiveness that floods me so quickly almost takes me off my feet.

I breathe through my nose as I follow after Olive, but she shuts herself in a room. As soon as the next one opens, I yank off the dress so fast I rip out some of my hair. Once I’m out, one of the girls grabs my arm and rushes me back to the room. She joins all the girls on the couches. Erin has placed herself between her aunt and Olive.

Valerie stands on the stage, and her beauty is so staggering, I nearly forget that I’m angry. It’s more modest in person, the sleeveless number tight across her waist, then cascading down her length in tiny ripples. The back is low and accentuates her muscles there.

Aside from my sister, she is the most beautiful bride I have ever seen.

I open my mouth to say so when one of the girls asks, “That’s what you’re wearing? Are you pranking us?”

“Please tell me you haven’t bought it yet?” another says. “The one hanging on the mannequin by the window is better than this.”

“My aunt picked this for me,” Valerie says, and for the first time since I’ve met her, the way her hands attempt to straighten the already ironed gown, I see her insecurity.

“Isn’t she like sixty?” someone says. “Let us pick it out for you.”

“She’s literally fifty,” Jennifer cuts in—as Anders said, she’s an actual nice person. “I think it’s nice.”

“Who asked you, klepto?”

For the second time in ten minutes, my jaw drops. Valerie says, “You know what, it’s because my hair and makeup aren’t done. Once you see me with everything, you’ll see how good it looks.”

“Unlikely,” someone says.

Mimi steps toward Valerie. “Let’s go change.”

Valerie follows her out, and I stand there, feeling crazy for several reasons. For Olive. For Valerie. And, genuinely, I can’t tell if they’re just being mean for the sake of it, or if they actually think Valerie doesn’t look good. Either way, they should have kept their negative thoughts to themselves.

All the girls are talking among themselves, laughing, and someone grimaces. Erin, when she thinks nobody is looking, flicks the center of Olive’s head.

Fuck the lines.

My feet propel me forward. I grab a jug of water and dump it over Erin.

Everyone goes quiet for a moment.

“What the hell?” Erin stands, and Ashley follows suit immediately.

I make a fist and jerk it back like I’m about to hit Erin. “You’re lucky this is all I’m doing.” I make her flinch again—though for the record, deserving or not, I would not hit a preteen. “You’re worrying about someone’s weight when you should be worrying about your own appearance. Clearly, early-onset wrinkles run in your family, so instead of a haircut”—I point to her aunt—“why don’t you get her to book an appointment for Botox? I can already see the crow’s-feet around her eyes.”

“Excuse me, bitch—”

“Watch your mouth in front of Olive,” I interrupt Ashley. “And if anyone is to blame, it’s the people who don’t know how to raise a child not to make fun of someone else’s appearance.”

“Speaking of.” I step back and address the entire room. “I don’t know who raised you all to be such horrible people—not to mention liars—because Valerie looks stunning. And if the next words out of your mouths aren’t ‘Sorry, Valerie, we were just kidding, you look beautiful,’ then I will personally”—I lean forward and cover Olive’s ears—“shove a bottle of champagne up every single one of your asses.”

Ashley scoffs, stepping forward. “Calling someone fat is a fact. If it’s a problem, maybe you shouldn’t feed a kid until they get overweight.”

Never mind Olive isn’t my child, because the anger coursing through me feels like she is. Like the fury I’d feel if someone tried to hurt Taina. It’s like my parents taught me from when I was a child—you always protect your family, no questions asked, no consequence too great. Family comes first, and you don’t let anyone disrespect those you love.

I wonder if they knew I’d consider that for a found family too.

Before I can react, I see Valerie enter the room, still in her beautiful wedding dress. Without hesitation, she grabs a nearby glass and throws its contents all over Ashley. The liquid soaks Ashley’s clothes, and Valerie, teeth clenched, says, “You and your bratty-ass niece can get the hell out. And don’t bother taking the dress—you won’t be needing it.”