“Uh, yeah. Maybe even storm out of the ballroom after we have at it.”
My dad sighs. “I’ve been dealing with enough drama this year with Noah and Santi. You and Liam have kept your own stuff under wraps for the most part, minus the slipup with the press conference.”
“So, you’re not mad about me breaking your rule?”
“Oh, I’m mad. But I can’t exactly say ‘I told you so’ when you’re about one wine glass away from crying into your dinner.”
I sigh at my dad’s wakeup call. “Wow. You need to work on your delivery. No wonder you don’t have a girlfriend.”
He chuckles. “Look at you, making a joke. Why don’t you talk to me about whatever’s going on? Your old man here used to deal with his own lady problems before I married my job and became a single dad. I made plenty of stupid mistakes growing up. But I’ll tell you one thing: anyone who earns your love better be worthy because your heart takes up more than half your body. You carry more soul in your pinky than some people have in their whole bodies.”
My dad’s kind words bring a small smile to my face.
“Well, it all started with a terrible princess costume and a party you forced me to go to.”
He rubs a hand across his face. “I better grab us more wine; I have a feeling this is going to be a long one.”
I let out a laugh at my dad’s retreating form. For the first time in days, I feel relief.
Speaking to my dad yesterday about Liam opened up a whole new set of wounds. I didn’t realize how far I had fallen until I shared my story from start to finish, leaving me vulnerable and lost. Despite my confessions, my dad handled it like a champ, offering a few pieces of advice, along with denying my request to fly home early yet again.
Instead of stewing in my sadness on a flight back to Italy, I get an up-close and personal show of my own demise, set up by my beautiful best friend.
Maya: This is your hourly reminder to not bail on me tonight. You won’t like what happens if you do. ??
Me: Threats work better when you don’t include a smiling emoji.
Maya responds by sending me the same emoji paired with a knife. I get dressed and look my best because I need to. If I’m going to pour my heart out to Maya at the expense of seeing Liam, I better look the part of an uncaring person. Nothing screams screw love quite like an open-back dress.
A couple hours later, I find Maya mingling in the gala’s crowd, her sparkly dress nabbing my attention. My hand wraps around the stem of her half-full champagne glass.
“Hey, I was drink—” She stops dead in her tracks.
Either I have an amazing poker face that stuns her, or I look as wild as I feel on the inside. I knock back the contents in a couple gulps, the cool liquid trickling down my throat.
I dub this version of myself as post-Liam.
“Remember during our sleepover when you told me to give Liam some time? That maybe he’d come around to accepting his feelings about me?”
She nods along, attempting to smile but deciding on a frown instead.
“Well, nothing has changed. I’m falling deeper and deeper into trouble by the day.” I pout my lip to stop it from trembling.
Maya’s frown deepens. “What kind of trouble?”
“The cleanup in aisle ten because my heart exploded on the ice cream section’s floor type.”
A passing waiter makes an appearance. My hands grip his sleeve, not letting him go anywhere without hearing my request. “Sir, can we please have another round of champagne? Stat.” The man has a nose for heartbreak because he dashes away.
Maya offers me a sincere smile. “I’m sorry. I thought he would wake up and realize how much of an idiot he’s been.”
“Before we continue, we need alcohol. Lots of alcohol.”
Maya nods in understanding.
My dear friend the waiter shows up with not one but two champagne bottles. He’d be a man after my heart—that is, if I still had one.
We each grab the bottle from the tray and take off toward a corner of the gala. I learned nothing from my previous corner experience, but at least this time I have good company. Maya and I take sips straight from the bottle, forgoing the glasses, chugging between my confessions. We’re an image of etiquette and grace, sitting on the floor behind a table hiding us from other partygoers. I share everything with Maya, not skimping out on details.
I sip champagne every time I want to laugh or cry, which turns out to be rather often. A few tears escape, and Maya ends up crying with me, proving how I picked a winner for a friend.