“More like, anything to get away from other people,” she pointed out, chuckling.
“Shut up,” I whispered.
“Anyway, you had better charge your social battery because you won’t be staying in the background at my party.”
“Feels like I'm the poor caterer's daughter,” I muttered.
“Jeez! Have you seen yourself?” she questioned, turning towards me as if I'd just delivered a shocking speech. “Don’t let me hear that nonsense again.”
“It's not about the dresses. And you know that,” she added, her voice softer.
“Yeah,” I agreed, sighing. “You're right.”
“I'm glad you agree,” she answered, flashing me a knowing look before we both burst into laughter.
What she said was an inside joke for us. It was something I often said to her after an argument, whether or not it ended in an actual agreement.
I saw Vissarion slightly bent over as he spoke an elderly woman, making her wrinkled face soften into a smile. That was my best friend’s man. Ever charming. There was no disputing he brought out the softness in Anya.
“And there’s my darling,” he said, straightening and turning to face us with a smile as if he knew we were approaching.
“Just the man we were looking for,” she replied.
The lapel of his black suit dazzled as he pulled Anya close.
“Mila, I was beginning to think you were going to ditch me,” he told me, extending his arm to give me a side hug.
“Nah, I couldn’t. I came for you, not for her,” I answered, smiling.
“Wow,” Anya drawled, and Vissarion chuckled.
“You look beautiful, by the way,” he commented.
“Thanks. You look good, too.”
“Oh? Another thing for my fiancé to get jealous about,” he laughed.
“Oh, please…you called me the hottest woman in the room two minutes ago,” she retorted, gazing up at him.
“Vissarion!” a beautiful brunette called, her powder blue dress glimmering as she approached us with a big smile.
“Yeah?” he answered.
“Sorry, Anya. I have to steal him for a second. These old women won’t let me breathe until they see him.”
“It’s fine,” she replied, chuckling. “But meet my best friend, Mila.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” the lady rushed, turning towards me. “Great to meet you. I’m Rebecca, everyone calls me Becca.”
Oh, Becca.
Anya had told me about Vissarion’s carefree but friendly sister even though we’d never met.
“It’s good to meet you, too, Rebecca,” I answered.
“I’m Vissarion’s sister,” she added. “I’m not usually this ill-mannered, believe me.”
“Mybabysister,” Vissarion clarified before I could speak.
