In my mind, the click of my heels sounds like a million women screaming their support for my escape.
“Yes, Queen,”they call.“You deserve better.”
Yes. I deserve the world.
“What will you do now?” Murray asks as we loiter on the curb outside the courthouse.
I tilt my head back, staring up at the pale-blue sky. “Whatever I want.”
ONE
MOLLY
Two years later
Pure-white butterflies gently flutter around the lavish ballroom. They land here and there, delicately flitting between the cacophony of white roses that fill the space. White petals line the floor, and the heavy scent of roses mixes with the sweet tang of coconut to perfume the air.
These are details I notice later, because I barely step two feet into the white and gold gilded ballroom before a hand is shoved in my face accompanied by an all-too-familiar squeal of delight.
Bess.
Upon my best friend’s ring finger sits a rock so big, I have to take a step back to fully appreciate its beauty. The giant diamond twinkles, catching the lights of the ballroom as my best friend holds out the engagement ring for me to admire.
“Holy shit,” I splutter, finally comprehending what this means. “Congratulations!”
Bess’s gorgeous red hair practically shimmies with excitement. Shorter than my own five foot seven, she compensates by wearing heels high enough to cause even a dragqueen pause. But she rocks them—always has. For her birthday, she requested that everyone wear white, and her stunning dress—which dips between her breasts and ends mid-thigh—puts my second-hand two-seasons-too-late frock to shame.
But then it has always been so. Bess has a natural beauty and flair for fashion that often lands her in the social sections of gossipy news sites and high class magazines as a fashion-forward player.
I’ve never quite understood how or why she took me under her wing back in high school. Or why she still puts up with me, but I’m forever grateful for her being in my life. Bess is like a whirlwind—constantly circulating, bouncing from one thought to another. Her energy remains untamed, her joy for life unquenchable. Some people might label her basic or extra, but I like to think of her as eccentric. She may forget to call or miss an appointment, become but if you need her, she’ll be there in a heartbeat.
The day I find out about Brad, she dropped everything and arrived at my place with an army of movers and a buttload of ice cream and tissues. She comforted me, directed the packing, then bundled me into her limo and took me home with her.
She then keyed Brad’s car while I slept and somehow got away with it.
I lived in her spare bedroom for six months while trying to learn how to function as a divorcee.
I wrap my arms around my best friend, beyond excited for her.
“Oh my god!” I squeal, jumping us up and down. “You’re engaged!”
“You’ll forgive me for not telling you earlier, right? It’s just—“ She pulls back to laugh giddily into my face. “—Pete surprised me by proposing in Montagues! You know how muchI covet their designs. He had a handful of rings already picked out that Mr. Montague himself designed! Can you imagine?”
“I can’t,” I say, enjoying her profuse joy.
“Pete thought I might like to choose my own ring and this one, it’s perfect, isn’t it?” She holds up her hand to me once again.
“It is,” I agree, admiring the beautiful piece. “It’s perfect for you.”
“And it’s fifteen carats, Molly! Fifteen! And then we went back home and had the most amazing sex before coming here.” She tackles me into a hug once again. “I’m so happy!”
I chuckle, squeezing her tight. “I can tell. Pete’s a good guy. You two deserve each other.”
“Oh, Molly.” She brushes a happy tear from the corner of her eye. “I knew you’d be thrilled.” She pegs me with puppy-dog eyes. “Please say you’ll be my maid of honor.”
“Of course, silly.” I give her one last tight squeeze. “I’ll be there for you like you’ve been for me.”
“Thank you.” A shadow crosses her face. “I know this might be hard for you to?—”
