Gin groans and rubs her temples. “I was hoping you’d have one of those stain-remover pens.”
It’s laughable that she thinks a Tide pen would help her case. She needs a bucket of bleach or, ideally, a whole new dress.
“So what do you want me to do?” I ask.
Gin’s gaze ping-pongs from the mirror to me, from my shoulder pads to my shoes and back. “Could you switch with me?”
“Are you kidding?” I squint at the stain, then down at my yellow pantsuit. “I’m not wearing white.”
“Neither am I.” She motions to the big red blob on her chest. “I can’t go out there like this, Alice. Please?”
A kick of guilt mixes with the obligation bubbling in my gut. It’s that weirdanything for the bridefeeling that spreads like the flu leading up to a wedding. If Gin could let me back into her life after what a shitty girlfriend I was to her, the least I can do is let her look better than me at her own engagement party.
I paste on a smile. “You know what? Anything for you.”
I turn around to undress, the sound of my zipper mixing with Gin’s “Thankyouthankyouthankyou.” I hand off my pants, blouse, and jacket behind my back, but despite plenty of sucking in and shimmying, I don’t have a prayer of zipping into her dress.
“Can I have my blazer back? To cover the fact that this thing doesn’t zip?”
Gin laughs, then drapes the jacket over my shoulders. “I look more bridal without it anyway.” She pauses, then adds, “You can turn around, you know. It’s really not a big deal.”
“I’m trying to be respectful.” It’s been years since Gin and Iwere a thing, but this is her engagement party, after all. The least I can do is try not to look at her naked.
“You’re funny,” Gin says. “But most of these people don’t even know we dated, and if Rishi or I cared, you and I wouldn’t be here right now. And also, I’m clothed, so, really—turn around.”
When I do, I’m face-to-face with a much more Zen Virginia Bennett, pulling off that shade of marigold even better than I did. It almost looks like something she might’ve worn intentionally. Meanwhile, I’m testing the limits of her rejected dress. It stretches tight like a drumhead over my boobs, drawing even more emphasis to the big red stain.
“I look like a bull’s-eye,” I mutter.
Gin smirks. “Sorry.” But I know she’s not really, and that’s okay. It’s her day. The first in a long chain of days that are hers, actually, but if anyone deserves that, it’s Gin. She’s earned the right to invent as many prewedding celebrations as she wants and make me wear whatever bullshit outfit at all of them.
We barely make it three steps out of the bathroom before Rishi rushes over like a skinny linebacker, nearly tackling his fiancée to the ground. I wince at the sweat marks he’s probably getting on my blouse, but Gin remains unbothered. She smooths Rishi’s wet hair off his forehead and kisses his cheek. That’s true love, I guess—when someone is that gross and you want to kiss them anyway. I never quite got there with Gin…or with anyone, but the secondhand high I get watching them is unparalleled. It swells in my chest and prickles my feet. So I’m sure that it’s real: true love, the kind that warrants multiple parties to properly celebrate.
The tinkling of silverware against glass slices through the dinof the crowd. Mr.Bhat stands with his water glass aloft, directing us all toward our seats. “Dinner is about to begin.”
Shit, I think.Dinnertime already?I feel around for my phone to check the time but come up empty-handed. I must have left it in the pocket of the pants currently being worn by the bride, who is blissfully unaware of my attempts at telepathic communication.
“Before we eat,” Rishi’s father goes on, “I’d like to say a few words about Rishi and Virginia.”
A lump forms in my throat. I was hoping to be out of here before any of the dad stuff started, but I’m not going to pickpocket the bride during her future father-in-law’s speech, so I steel myself instead.
“As many of you know,” Mr.Bhat begins, “Rishi and I are quite close. So close, in fact, that he chose to come work at my firm. I’m not only his father but also his boss—and Rishi has not yet requested any PTO for the wedding, so, Virginia, make sure he gets on that, or I may not approve it!”
A low rumble of laughter moves through the crowd. I stare at the floor and try to pick out other sounds, the clatter of dishes in the kitchen and the gentle ambient music, anything besides this speech. Even so, when Rishi’s dad speaks to how proud he is of his son, his voice splinters, and it chips at my composure. But I refuse to cry. I close my eyes and ride the sensation, imagining that I’m steering a boat over choppy waters when my insides rock up and down in waves. And this is only the engagement party. How the hell am I going to survive the wedding?
At last, Rishi’s dad ends his speech with a toast, and a murmur of cheers trickles through the crowd. I turn to tap my invisible glass against Gin’s, but she and Rishi have since wandered off, leavingnothing beside me but an empty space. The lump in my throat doubles in size. It’s well past time to go.
When I relocate the bride, she’s already wiggling my phone in front of her. “Looking for this?” She drops it in my palm, and the time lights up the screen. I’mverylate, but when I start my goodbyes, Gin breaks out the puppy dog eyes.
“You’re leaving already?”
“I have dinner plans with my mom,” I remind her, and she backs off the guilt trip.
“Right. How is she doing?”
“She’s all right,” I say. It’s been a while since I’ve seen her, so it’s mostly an assumption. “It’ll be good to check in on her and the house.”
“And what about the Galena house?” Gin asks. “Any word yet?”
