My friends huddled together, looking like penguins about to shove one of their own off of the ledge to test the waters.
Elsie finally said, “Ivy, Evan’s back together with Camilla.”
My mouth fell open, and the French fry dropped out.
“He’s not! I just saw him.” My brain slowly churned. “He said he had an appointment. Oh, god.”
Amy showed me Camilla’s Instagram. There she was with Evan; the two looked like the picture-perfect couple. Tears swam in my eyes.
Then I blinked angrily. “So what? We’re not together.”
“You liked him,” Amy said sympathetically.
“I hated him,” I said flatly. “He was ill-advised stress relief and a walking bad decision.”
“In a nice package,” Sophie added.
“So you’re not upset?” Grace asked, patting my hand.
“Of course not!” I lied. “I don’t have time for his games. If Camilla wants that dumpster fire, she can go for it. Evan and I weren’t anything. It was a no-strings-attached arrangement. Evan wanted rebound sex, and I just wanted any sex I could get. We did it. Now it’s over.”
“I’m kind of surprised,” Elsie said. “You handled this all very maturely.”
“Of course I did,” I chirped and grabbed a handful of fries. “I’m a mature, professional woman.”
“Well then. Drinks all around!” Sophie announced.
“And now you can tell us about your conquest!” Amy said excitedly.
“Was he huge?” Grace demanded.
I nodded and smiled slightly, because I totally hadn’t slept with Evan because I liked him. I only did it for the pure physical sensation.
“Did you do anal?” Brea asked, brown eyes big.
“Oh my god, Brea, Lord have mercy!” I fanned myself.
“Well, did you?” Elsie asked after a beat.
“Of course not!”
* * *
I felt slightly betteras I drunkenly walked home.
It was casual sex with Evan. Enemies with benefits, if you will.
Former benefits, I reminded myself as I slowly climbed the stairs.Now it’s over and you can catch up on work.
I needed to review the RSVPs that had been coming in and check them against the guest list. I had been afraid that people weren’t even going to show up to the wedding. They had canceled on the bridal tea, after all. However, it seemed people were eager to watch the train wreck live and in person.
“It can’t be as bad as the last Harrington wedding,” I told myself as I unlocked the door. Fergus yowled on the other side.
“I brought you tuna tartare,” I told the cat. “And if you don’t cough a hair ball up on my bed, you can have some.”
I let him out onto the balcony with his snack then opened my laptop to review the state of the bridal registry. Imogen and Teddy had expensive items picked out. The cheapest was a five-hundred-dollar silver fruit bowl. I had several emails from her complaining that no one was buying any of the registry selections.
“No shit,” I muttered as I undressed, kicking off my boots. “No one is going to buy dumb, expensive gifts for people they can’t stand.”
