Empirically, Justin was attractive. He had green eyes and a nice, even smile. And he was tall—at five foot nine myself, tall was always a plus. His personality, however, quickly sapped the appeal of his physical characteristics. Especially since he tried to stick his tongue down my throat within about six minutes of meeting him. Nope. Hard pass.
Please let it be anyone but him, I thought desperately. But my stomach dropped as an image of his arm around me as I stumbled outside at the engagement party so he could smoke a cigarette came crashing back. I didn’t remember kissing him, but I could picture his head leaning in toward mine. Not irrefutable evidence, but combined with the dirty comment, this was probably my guy. Ugh, Lily, why?
Mark laughed. “So you’re the reason Megan has like seventeen jars of olives here. Makes sense now.”
Deep breath. I can have one drink an hour and be fine. Or two drinks now and none later. And then I can handle this.
“What can I say? I like olives.” I laughed nervously, turning back to Mark as he began mixing my drink. “Careful,” I warned him, faking a level of gaiety I certainly didn’t feel. “If it’s not good, you don’t get a tip!” They both laughed. I can do this. Just act like a normal human being who hasn’t slept with anyone here.
He poured the drink and speared three olives to put in it before handing it to me. I took a sip and smiled. “I’ll put a dollar in the jar. Thanks!”
“Anything for the maid of honor,” he replied.
Why couldn’t I have slept with that one? I asked myself. Yes, he’s nerdy, but he’s sweet at least.
I turned around and Justin leaned against the island, his hip touching mine. Nope, I thought, scanning the room, looking for salvation. Megan called my name from the living room.
“Duty calls,” I said without a backward glance and catapulted myself at Megan. “What’s up, Megs?”
Megan grabbed my arm and dragged me into the powder room, nearly spilling my martini on her new floors. “I’m going to kill her,” she hissed.
“What? Who?”
“Claire. Tim’s sister.”
I mentally flipped back through the bridesmaids. Tim’s sister was the tiny one with a severe case of resting bitch face. She couldn’t have been more than four foot eleven, but what she lacked in size, she made up for in attitude—all of it negative. Megan had been complaining about her from the moment they met. “What did she do?”
“She just can’t ever say anything nice. Like we just bought a house. Of course it’s not perfect yet, but do you really walk into someone else’s new house and start listing all the things that are wrong with it?”
“What an angry little troll,” I commiserated. “Who does that? What was she even saying? The house is awesome.”
Megan was blinking rapidly like she was trying not to cry. “Just harping about the carpets and the layout of the kitchen and the appliances. We’re going to get new appliances after the wedding, you know.”
“Aw Megs, I know. She’s just jealous. Where does she live?”
Megan grabbed a tissue from the holder that perfectly matched the rest of the bathroom and started dabbing at her eyes to keep her makeup from running. “In a mansion in Potomac. New construction, of course, with a pool. Her husband’s parents bought it for them.”
I rolled my eyes. “And you’re crying over what she thinks? Come on, how miserable does she have to be that she’s living in a free house and is picking on yours?”
“It’s not just that. She’s so down on everything we do for the wedding too. She told me she’ll only be in the wedding if she gets to pick her own dress. Like what am I supposed to say to that? It’s my wedding. So I either have to let her decide what the bridesmaids wear, or else tell Tim his sister can’t be in the wedding. What a horrible thing to do to someone.”
I thought about what I had seen in my recent forays onto Caryn’s Pinterest boards. “What if you give her a couple of options? Like where all the bridesmaids wear the same color but can pick from a few styles?”
Megan nodded. “I guess. It’s not how I pictured it, but it’s better than just having insane mismatched dresses everywhere. But what if she won’t even agree to the colors?”
I planted my hands behind me and hopped up onto the bathroom counter to sit. “Then it’s her choice to not be in the wedding. Not yours.”
“But the numbers won’t match.”