“I love you,” I declared, sinking into the seat opposite her where a martini sat waiting for me, dirty, with extra olives, just the way I liked it. I took a long swig, needing it after the phone call I had just had with the astrophysicist who didn’t think that I had accurately explained the significance of the gamma-ray burst he had been researching. “Seriously. Marry me.”
“Funny you should say that.” Megan’s eyes twinkled as she raised her hand. “I already told Tim I would marry him.”
Despite my two prior commitments, I swear that I felt nothing but joy for the girl who had been my best friend since second grade, when Amber Donovan announced the name of my crush to an entire busload of kids and Megan “accidentally” clocked her with her Snoopy lunch box. Nothing cements a friendship like hitting another kid in the face with a Charles Shultz–approved hunk of plastic complete with matching thermos.
I squealed over the ring and demanded all of the appropriate details, grinning broadly at the happiness radiating from her pores.
“I have a question for you,” she said when she finished the story, pulling an exquisitely wrapped package out of a bag on the floor next to her.
“What’s this?”
“Open it.”
I tore into the wrapping paper and Megan laughed again, calling me vicious. Under the paper was a wooden box painted Tiffany blue with a white ribbon stripe affixed to it. I can’t say ‘I do’ without you, it said in calligraphy on a card in the corner. I opened the latch and lifted the lid of the box. It contained a ring pop, a tiny bottle of champagne, Hershey’s Kisses, and a pack of Essie bridal nail polishes in pale pinks. Will you be my maid of honor? was written in the same calligraphy inside the box’s lid.
My eyes welled up. “Of course I will! How long did this take you?”
“I saw it on Pinterest forever ago—don’t you ever look at my wedding board?”
What on earth is a wedding board? I asked myself, shaking my head. I was going to have to figure that out.
It wasn’t until I was back at home that night, showing my maid of honor box to Becca, that I realized I might be a bit overextended.
“Have any of them set dates yet?” she asked.
“Megan and Caryn both did.”
“Of course Megan already did.” Becca wasn’t a huge fan of Megan, and the feeling was mutual. They tolerated each other because of me, but Becca thought Megan was bossy and controlling, and Megan thought Becca was judgmental and snarky. I knew they were both right, but loved them for those same qualities.
“June 27.”
“A June wedding, shocking.”
I laughed. “Three weeks after Caryn’s. And Sharon hasn’t set a date yet.”
“I hope it’s not the same weekend as Megan’s or Caryn’s.” The thought hadn’t occurred to me yet, and I must have looked worried because Becca immediately assured me it probably wouldn’t be.
“You couldn’t pay me to be in three weddings in the same year,” she said, shaking her head. “You’re a better person than I am.”
The combination that pushed me over the edge into a blackout-drunk night of groomsmanic debauchery came a month later. My twenty-seven-year-old brother, Jake, proposed to his twenty-five-year-old girlfriend the weekend before Megan’s engagement party.
“She said yes!” he yelled into the phone as a greeting.
Jake and I weren’t the closest of siblings, and I’d had no previous indication that he and his girlfriend were that serious. Granted, he lived out of state, so I had met her on exactly three occasions. And on those three occasions, I believe she said a grand combined total of nine words to me.
But Jake had pulled this particular gag before, with his college girlfriend. So I wasn’t buying it this time.
“Congratulations,” I said, pretending to play along. “When’s the big day?”
“Probably May. We want to do a destination wedding and everything in June will be booked already.”
A tiny inkling of dread began to bubble up in me—he knew too much about June weddings. But I swallowed it back down because this was how Jake operated. He had probably heard how many weddings I was already committed to from our parents and was therefore trying to build some anxiety before saying “gotcha.”
“Well it’s a good thing Madison doesn’t like me, because I don’t have the time or energy to be in another wedding.”
There was a pause.
“Of course Mads likes you. We want you to be a bridesmaid.”