“What else can I do?” I asked.
Amy and my mother exchanged looks. “I think it’s under control,” Amy said.
“What about table arrangements?”
Amy shrugged. “They’ve been done for weeks now.”
“Boutonnieres for the groomsmen?”
“Ordered. The best man is picking them up the morning of the wedding.”
“There has to be something.”
“There isn’t,” my mother said gently. Our relationship had undergone a definite shift since I had confided in her about Alex. There was a little less of an edge, and I didn’t feel as attacked. I no longer felt annoyed when I saw her pop up on my caller ID. I didn’t know if it was her or me or both, but whatever had caused the change, I hoped it lasted. “You’ve been a huge help this week though.”
“Have gifts started coming in? I could help with thank-you notes.”
Amy laughed. “Go home, Lily.”
It was eight o’clock, but still light outside. Between Caryn being on her honeymoon, Sharon no longer my friend, Becca never around, Megan preparing for her wedding, and Alex wanting nothing to do with me, I found filling the hours to be a daunting task.
But I stuck to my word and emailed Madison, and we began a—halting at first—correspondence. She was well-read—much more so than my brother, who didn’t see the point in reading if there was a movie—and she got literary references that traveled far over his head. By the fourth or fifth email, I discovered that, once she warmed up, she was actually pretty funny. She may not have been the extrovert that I was, but we were a lot more alike than I would have imagined, which made me feel more connected to my brother as well. I started texting him a couple of times a week. True, our correspondence consisted primarily of memes, but it was something.
I wrote more blog posts, also haltingly at first. I talked about Finn in one, not by name of course, and about why I decided being a trophy wife wasn’t for me. That one generated a little buzz online, even though half of the comments called me crazy for not chasing the easy life. I responded to every comment—from home, or my cell phone if I was at work. This one would never touch the FST computers. Even knowing that Martin didn’t object, I wanted to be professional this time.
I didn’t talk about Alex. Or say anything negative about any of the brides. But I did write a post about my newfound respect for my sister-in-law. I planned to email it to her, not knowing if she was reading the new blog, but she commented on it before I did, thanking me. Or maybe it was a Russian bot, pretending to be her. Who knows? The internet is a dark and creepy place, after all.
Finally, it was Amy’s wedding day. I hugged her moments before it was time for me to walk down the aisle. “I’m happy for you,” I whispered, meaning it.
Her eyes glimmered and she elbowed me. “Don’t you make me cry right now.”
“Okay. But I love you, little sis.”
She dabbed at her eyes. “I love you too, you big jerk.”
I sat between Madison and my grandmother at the reception. “Joanie, when is it your turn?” my grandmother asked me. I looked at Madison and rolled my eyes. She smiled.
“I don’t know.”
“Well hurry up. I’m not going to live forever, you know.”
“That’s not morbid at a wedding or anything.”
“Oh, I’ll be at yours. You mark my words. I don’t care if your mother has to dig me up and tie me to a chair. I’ll be there.”
Madison and I exchanged another look. “I’ll get right on it, Grandma.”
She leaned over to me and whispered, which without her hearing aids was still a volume that could be heard from three tables over, “I read that new blog thing of yours. You should call that banker. There’s nothing wrong with being a trophy wife!”
“Grandma!”
“Since when do you read blogs?” Jake asked.
“I saw it on the Facebook Google. You think I don’t know how all that works, but at least Joanie is posting interesting stuff. No one wants to see a picture of every meal you eat, Jake.”
Madison let out a yelp of laughter and I collapsed giggling onto her shoulder.
“When did you two get so close?” he asked us, his arms crossed grumpily.
I put an arm around Madison. “I love my new sister. Best thing you ever did. I’m actually glad now that Mom and Dad didn’t trade you for a dog when I was in fifth grade and made that poster about why they should.”