How to Ruin a Wedding(85)
“I’m honest to God about to grab a plane and pilot it myself,” Anders says, and I cackle.
“Oh,” I say mid-laugh, “I’ll be late if I don’t leave soon. I should go now.”
“You are a menace,” he says, exasperated.
I end the call on a chuckle and a bundle of satisfaction in the pit of my stomach.
Time to focus—wedding ruining D-Day is here. The Hail Mary.
It’s time to put the nail in the coffin.
It’s weird being without Anders as I enter Bethany’s home. I’ve grown used to the comfort of his presence, his body, and the feel of his arm wrapped around my waist, the ease with which we slip our fingers through each other’s.
Still, I keep my chin up as I move through people, dressed in all white as Valerie requested to match with the white balloons, white centerpieces, white gift bags; all white for the bride, who is standing by Olive, speaking with her fingers pinching her nose.
As I get closer, I spot the orange stain on the side of Valerie’s dress, matching the color of the half-empty glass Olive holds. I hold in a laugh as I approach, just as Bethany appears and starts blotting the stain.
“I told you to stay in your room and read your book,” Bethany says while rubbing the stain furiously. “Nothing at this party is interesting enough for a kid to join.”
“I finished my book already.” Olive crosses her arms against her Iron Man T-shirt. “I’m bored, and you’re the one who doesn’t allow TVs in bedrooms.”
Valerie gestures to the living room occupied by friends and family, drinking, chatting, and laughing. “Did you really think you could watch a show right now?”
I join them, hand in my tote bag. “I have stain remover,” I say, holding it out to Bethany. “I knew an all-white party was a risk.”
“Thank you.” Bethany snatches it.
Olive grips the side of my dress. “The new Marvel show is out, and I need to watch before I see any spoilers.”
I smile and suggest, “Try watching it on your iPad?”
Valerie groans. “The little brat dropped it down the stairs today. The entire screen is cracked.”
I scan the room. “Where’s John?” Clearly Valerie is stressed and the groom-to-be is nowhere to be found.
“Late,” she answers, anger coating the word, “and I’m already agitated enough about that as it is. And half my bridal party still hasn’t arrived. The caterers sent the wrong order. The florist sent lilies instead of daisies, and I’m about to lose my goddamn mind.”
I keep my face as unbiased as possible, ignoring the guilt flooding me since Taina and I spent hours meddling, calling vendors, giving wrong times, and changing orders. The bridesmaids, though—they suck all on their own.
This on-edge Valerie is only going to get worse, so I pull out my phone. “Use mine.” I hand it to Olive. “Why don’t you head to your room?”
She snatches it from me. “You’re the best,” she says as she runs off.
“Stain’s out,” Bethany says. “Let’s get you under a blow dryer.”
“I’ll be nicer later,” Valerie promises as Bethany, who probably has dealt with her wrath all day as things went wrong, pushes her along. I wave and smile, help myself to a glass of wine, then remember I drove here and replace it with a bottle of water.
My gaze keeps lingering on the front door. Nick said he would come. He lives just a few hours away, but what if he got cold feet? It was easy to guess Valerie still had lingering feelings for him.
But what if Nick isn’t as stuck on Valerie as she him? What’s my next step? Do I just crash the wedding? That’ll implicate me, taint me for the family forever, and won’t stop anything permanently. It’s not even a plan.
I could do an intervention—straight-up sit down with Valerie and tell her I know from experience how to tell when something isn’t going to work out. Try to save her heart in an honest, plain way—but every time I try to pry too deep, she runs away.
It’s like the more Valerie’s family tells her something isn’t good for her, the more she wants it.
Maybe when John arrives, I can snatch his phone, have Taina hack into it, and find something incriminating. But I don’t think he’s cheating, unless we find messages that say he’s using her for money.
That’s more of a possibility.
Now I’m scanning the room for Nick and John.
My bag nearly falls off my shoulder, and I jerk back. Jennifer, her hair tied in a ponytail, is inches from my face. I grab my compact mirror from her hand, put it back in my bag.
“Jennifer, good to see you, I think.”
She grins at me. “Hey, fellow bridesmaid.” She crosses her arms. “I’m glad you’re in. Some of the other girls are just nasty. I mean, they’re not even here yet. Would it kill them to be on time?”
I step an arm’s length away and rezip my bag. “It’s good she has you,” I say hesitantly. “How did you two become friends?”
Her eyes widen with excitement, and she starts telling me the story of how they met in high school, when they both were dating someone on the football team, learned it was the same guy, and hatched a plan of revenge rather than hating each other.
I listen to her tell me the rest of the story animatedly, backing away whenever she closes the distance between us. I don’t have any valuables in my bag, but I still prefer my items to remain mine, thank you very much.