“It’s a good idea,” I said finally. “I’ll keep that in mind.” I set the champagne glass down on the bar. “I think I’m going to head out.”
He was surprised. “I was about to ask if you wanted to dance.”
I shook my head. “Thank you, but no.”
“What about the cake? And the bouquet?”
“I don’t want either,” I said over my shoulder as I walked away. “But it was nice to meet you.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
I peeled off the purple dress, minimizing bra, and Spanx as soon as I got home, and then took a deeper breath than I had been capable of for the past several hours. I twisted my ridiculously straight hair into a messy bun to get it off of my neck and went to the kitchen to pour myself a well-earned glass of wine.
Becca must have come by the apartment while I was at the wedding because my mail was on the counter. I paid my bills online, so I was terrible about checking the mail. I took the stack to the trash can and flipped through it over the open bin, dropping the junk as I went until one letter stopped me.
My name and address were written on the envelope in familiar handwriting. Curious, I took it to the sofa and opened it.
Lily,
Maybe I’m a coward for writing you a letter instead of calling, but I didn’t want this to be a conversation.
I would love to say that I’m strong enough to forgive you and move on, but I’m not. You violated my trust, and you said unforgivable things about my mom. She may not be perfect, but she’s my mom. And the lack of respect that you showed her . . . there’s no coming back from that.
I also can’t forgive you for the fact that after thirteen years of thinking you were my friend, those things you said in the blog were how you actually saw me. Do you even know how to be someone’s friend? I thought I knew the answer to that, but apparently I was very, very wrong.
So this is me cancelling your invitation to my wedding.
I hope you can find a way to be happy, Lily. I won’t say you deserve it after this, but I hope you find it anyway.
Please don’t contact me again.
Sincerely,
Sharon
I set the letter on the coffee table with a shaking hand and leaned back against the sofa, a tear trickling out of the corner of my eye and snaking its way down my face before I wiped it away.
I deserved every word of that. To be fair, I deserved it from more than just Sharon. If anything, I had gotten off way too easily by only completely destroying two friendships. But knowing it was my fault didn’t make it hurt any less.
I couldn’t fall asleep, even after a glass of wine and some truly mindless television. I debated texting Becca, but I didn’t want to bring her down. Not now, when she was finally so happy. I had been a crappy enough friend to everyone else already. I would have to downgrade to a smaller apartment when she decided to make it official with Will—I couldn’t afford this on my own, and I didn’t know anyone else single whom I could room with. Not that I could imagine anyone choosing to room with me after seeing how I had just publicly treated my closest friends.
For a split second, I regretted blowing Finn off, but that regret faded immediately into vague relief. He wouldn’t have solved anything.
I sat up.
Or had he already?
“How are you going to spin this whole publicity thing?” he had asked. “Find a way to make it profitable.”
Profitable.
I jumped out of bed and grabbed my laptop. In my haste to erase the blog, I hadn’t considered the fact that I was generating money from it. What happened when I went viral? With the blog gone, I couldn’t access my advertising stats, but I logged into my bank account, not daring to breathe while the page loaded.
There was an advertising deposit in my account for almost fifteen thousand dollars.
Oh. My. God.
I had goose bumps and could feel my whole spine tingling. Was it too late to get the blog back? What had I done?
I shut the laptop and closed my eyes. No. My friends and family mattered more than the money.
But the wheels were turning furiously in my head. Bridesmania was gone, but I could start a new site. I had enough notoriety right now that people would read it. And the new blog would have my name on it for full accountability.
I reopened my laptop and started writing.
Well, that didn’t go as planned. Not that I really had an endgame in mind, but getting outed by Buzzfeed definitely wasn’t what I expected.
That’s right. My name is Lily Weiss, and I’m THAT bridesmaid.
I feel like I should probably start this post by writing, Bart Simpson–style on a chalkboard, that I will not anonymously trash my loved ones on the internet anymore until I can’t feel my wrist. But I have already prostrated myself at the altar of my loved ones’ forgiveness, and all, save two, have decided to give me a second chance at being a better human being.