“Fine,” I reply simply and continue with my makeup.
“Really?” She sounds doubtful.
“Yep,” I lie.
She shrugs. “Okay, same old then. You two just being you two.”
“Right.” I’m not trying to open the door for a deeper conversation.
“Of course, you two won’t be the cliché best man hooking up with one of the bridesmaids.”
She’s exhausting me now. “Esme, I might just throw something at you.”
It only makes her laugh. “Sorry. It’s too easy. I just have to say his name and you turn into a woman unhinged.”
I throw my blush brush onto the vanity. “Stop it. I really need a best friend right now who will not drive me nuts. I do one crazy thing and then you don’t let it go.”
Her head cocks to the side and her brows raise. “One crazy thing?”
Ah, shit.
I’m going to burst anyhow. “Oliver and I slept together, but we agreed to forget it.” I say it so fast and string the words together that I’m not sure Esme understood me.
But her lips in an O shape tell me otherwise. “I knew it.” She points a finger at me, and she looks like a miner who just struck gold.
I sigh and realize that it feels kind of good to get it off my chest. Then my thoughts drift to images of last night and I feel a giddiness that I’m struggling to keep down. “Don’t tell anyone. Especially not Keats.”
“Of course not.” I give her a warning glare, and she straightens her back. “Really… I promise.” She zips her mouth with her fingers.
“Listen, we got out some tension, and we agreed it was a one-night kind of thing. This weekend is for my brother, so we can move on.”
Her smile drops. “Is that really what you want?”
I give her a reassuring look. “It’s for the best. I would rather have him as a friend than lose him because we don’t work out.”
“Liar.”
“Esme, please, let’s just focus on champagne, cake, and watching some distant uncles get drunk on the dance floor.”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “Okay, if that is really what you want.”
“Yes.”
She steps forward to touch my arm. “Then your wish is my command.”
“Great. I’m starving and I won’t make it a late night. I need energy for tomorrow.”
“You do look a little worn out,” she taunts.
I bug my eyes out at her, and she holds her hands up by her shoulders. “What?” she squeaks. “I mean it, really. I’m not sure where your mind is at.” I’m not sure I believe her but fine. Either way, she’s right, which is why I grab my foundation pen for an extra coat under my eyes.
We have a restful silence between us, and because it’s out in the open, I can snort a laugh to myself. “I did pack lace pajamas… but they never even left my bag.”
She smiles at me. “Naked also works.”
“I’m sore, too.”
Her mouth curls with a grin. “Most women wouldn’t complain about that.”
