“I shouldn’t have made fun of you.”
“Who made fun? You wrote what Louise and I did.”
“But it wasn’t nice.”
“You keep saying that—who cares if it’s nice if it’s true?”
“I—” This wasn’t going how I expected it to at all. “Mom said you were mad at me.”
She waved a hand in the air. “Your mother says a lot of things. How I raised such an uptight daughter, I will never understand.”
“You’re not mad?”
“Honey, at my age, who has time to be mad about things like that?” She took a bite of cake and gestured for me to do the same. “Is that why you came over?”
“I—well—yeah.”
“You could come visit without thinking I’m mad or that you need to babysit me on an airplane, you know.” I tried to remember the last time I had been to her house other than picking her up and dropping her back home for the Mexico trip. I had seen her, of course, at my mother’s house and when she came dress shopping. But the last time I came by just for a visit was well before people started getting engaged. Which meant it had been at least a year. And given her age, the opportunities to spend time with her were getting more and more limited by the day.
“You’re right,” I nodded. “You’re really not mad?”
“Did you kill anyone?”
“No.”
“Steal anything?”
“No.”
“Then no. I’ll be a little miffed if you don’t finish that piece of cake though.” I took a bite, feeling somewhat lighter. “Your mother sounded pretty upset, but I don’t put much stock in that. Raises my blood pressure too much. I just take my hearing aids out when she starts going on.”
“Why did you act like you were mad over the phone then?”
She winked at me. “It got you to come visit, didn’t it?” I mentally kicked myself again. But one of my grandmother’s best qualities was that she genuinely didn’t hold grudges. Yes, she might say anything and everything that popped into her head, no matter how inappropriate, but once she had said it, she was done. My weekends might be booked solid for the next month （or might not be, depending on how my friends took my apologies）， but I promised myself I would be better about coming to see Grandma as soon as the weddings were done. “But you seem upset. Explain to me why this blog thing is such a big deal.”
“A lot of people saw it. And I didn’t have my name on it, so I didn’t think anyone would know it was me, but then people figured it out.”
“Well of course it was you! Who else is in five weddings at once?”
“Yeah. I didn’t think that through so well.”
“Why are you friends with those girls anyway? It doesn’t seem like you like them very much.”
“I do—well—normally. The weddings have kind of spun out of control.”
“I don’t understand you all with weddings. In my day, the mother planned everything. Your sisters were your bridesmaids and that was that.”
“Can you imagine if Mom planned Amy’s wedding?”
“Oh God no, your mother has terrible taste. She didn’t get that from me either.” I looked around and suppressed a grin. My grandmother still had brightly colored fruit-themed wallpaper from the seventies in her kitchen and had almost enough kitschy knickknacks to qualify as a hoarder.
She patted my hand on the table. “It’ll all blow over, dear. Nothing lasts forever. Well, except herpes.” My eyes widened in horror, but she didn’t notice. “Do you like the cake? It’s a new recipe.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
I still didn’t want to talk to Megan when I got home, but I knew it was time.
Before I pushed the button on my phone to call her, though, I turned to the next page of the notepad with my apology list and bulleted out some things I needed to say.
“Talk,” she said when I called.
“Hello to you too.”
“Seriously, Lily, what the hell?”
“Well,” I said haltingly. “You were the one who told me to write a book about my ridiculous life.”
“Okay. Call me back when you’re ready to be serious. I don’t have time for this right now.”
I sighed. “What do you want me to say?”
“Uh, that you’re sorry? That’d be a great start.”
“I’m sorry.” I paused. “But—”