“So, you never told me how last night went. Did you cash in on your text?” Lottie asks.
Well . . . it was great.
“Uh, not really,” I say, knowing I can’t lie to my sister, that she’ll see right through me. “Too drunk.”
Keep it at that, simple.
“You weren’t that drunk. Did you chicken out on me? You didn’t have to do the twirl. Was it the twirl that got you?”
There was no way in hell I was even mentioning the twirl last night.
“No, it just . . . it wasn’t happening,” I say, crossing my legs.
She frowns. “What do you mean it wasn’t happening?”
“I mean . . . he wasn’t . . . in the mood,” I draw out, hoping Meredith signed that NDA Huxley makes everyone who walks into his house sign.
“He wasn’t in the mood?” Lottie asks as Meredith blots concealer on the hickey. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, he wasn’t in the mood. Can we drop it? Because I feel emotional about it and I don’t want to be emotional on your wedding day. It’s supposed to be happy and fun, not depressing.”
“Yes, but I don’t want you to have to force a smile. We need to talk this out.”
“Hello?” Ellie calls from the entryway. Just great . . . “Where are you guys?”
“Upstairs bedroom,” Lottie calls out.
“Can we not talk about this with her?” I ask. “I’m really . . . I’m embarrassed. Last night was such a disaster, and the more I think about it, the more I just want to curl up and cry. Trust me, I’m highly emotional, and you don’t want that while we’re getting ready.” My eyes well up.
Lottie reaches her hand out to me, and I take it. “But you’re hurting, and I can’t have you hurting right now. How could you have any fun today if you bottle it all up?”
Ellie comes through the door at that moment, a box of baked goods in one hand and her dress bag in the other. “Sorry I’m late, the baby was being fussy, and I hate to be that person, but I really wanted to make sure everything was okay before I left.” She studies me, then Lottie, then me again, and she winces. “Oh, he told you. How are you doing?”
Told me . . .
Told me what?
I sit taller and so does Lottie, her protective-big-sister instincts kicking in. “Told her what?” Lottie asks.
Ellie’s face drains of all color as she once again looks between us. “Uh . . . what was that?” She blinks a few times.
Lottie turns to Meredith and asks, “I’m so sorry, but could you give us a moment?”
“Not a problem, gives me a chance to check in with the kids.”
Meredith takes off, shutting the door behind her, and Lottie spins in her seat and asks, “What are you talking about, Ellie?”
Now Ellie’s wringing her hands together, chewing on the side of her lip, looking like she might possibly flee or throw up. “You know, it’s not a big deal. I just—you looked upset, so I assumed something I shouldn’t have assumed. Why don’t we just ignore what I said and have some cronuts? I got the raspberry-filled ones.”
Speaking as evenly as I can, I say, “Ellie, I’m a borderline emotional nutcase right now. I need to know what you’re talking about or I might combust. Please, just tell me.”
She sighs and mutters, “Me and my big mouth.” She grabs her phone and starts scrolling through it while she says, “The only reason I know is because Dave told me about it and I was preparing myself for what might happen this morning. But apparently, and I don’t know when, JP sent out an email to a bunch of women asking them to be his date for the wedding.”
“What?” I ask.
Ellie hands me her phone. A screenshot from an email JP sent comes into view.
“What does it say?” Lottie asks.
“‘Hey ladieeees. Sending a big old cock of an email because, you know . . . I have a big cock’ . . .” I trail off, unable to read it anymore, so Lottie takes the phone and finishes for me.
“‘So this email has to match. Here’s the thing. Hux is getting married to Lulu Lemon.’” She looks up. “Hey, why is he calling me Lulu Lemon?”
“That’s what you’re worried about?” I ask as a tear escapes down my cheek. Ellie is quick to hand me a tissue.
“You’re right. Email is more important.” Lottie clears her throat. “‘And they told me I need a plus-one. Looking for a willing candidate to escort me down the aisle. All expenses paid. Promises of pleasure. If interested, hit me up. I wear condoms still. K. Bye. JP.’ That motherfucker!”