Ellen had made the right bets in both the economic and romantic markets. She’d taken a big risk in quitting her large consulting firm and going to a tiny start-up, and it had paid off. And she’d stopped falling for risky romantic options and had instead chosen a reliable, even-keeled boyfriend who was going to make a phenomenal husband.
Rae, on the other hand, was playing it safe at work, stuck in the just-one-more-year cycle. And the risk she’d taken in dating someone with depression wasn’t playing out as the best-case scenario, though she knew that, given the option to change her decision, she wouldn’t.
After Dustin had shaken her up by telling her so bluntly that he didn’t see marriage coming for them anytime soon, she’d had to decide, or rather admit that her heart had already decided, that she’d rather be with Dustin and have her marriage timeline delayed than be with someone else who was ready for that step right now. She still wanted to get married and have kids, and she still wanted Dustin as the husband part of that equation, but she figured maybe it would make sense for them just to have two kids, not three. That would buy them another couple years to focus on getting Dustin better before heading to the altar.
Running through this plan again made her feel a little more confident in her own future, and the jealousy mostly rearranged itself into joy as Rae looked into Ellen’s eyes, blurry with clarity.
“Shit,” Ellen said. “Anyone have a tissue?”
Tina produced a whole pack from her pocket. “Your wish is my command.”
Rae stood up and snatched the tissues away. “Love shouldn’t be wiped away.”
Ellen took Rae’s hand as they stared at their reflections. Ellen looked extra tall on the pedestal, a dark-haired heroine in white. Raeappeared extra short, a fair-haired supporting character in black. They were objective opposites but subjective complements, and Rae felt emotion churning up in her eyes too.
She squeezed Ellen’s clammy palm. “You’re sweating.”
“I need hand deodorant,” Ellen said.
“Palm powder,” Rae said. “We should patent it.”
“There’s a large market size of brides who’d buy it. But it has to be all natural.”
Tina appeared confused. “Hand deodorant? I’m not sure we have any of that …”
“Just an inside joke,” Ellen said kindly. And then, to Rae, “Text a photo to the Scramblettes.”
The Scramblette group chat had been nearly dormant for a while, but there was nothing like a wedding dress to gather old friends back into its fold. Rae sent three photos of Ellen, all equally perfect.
Mina and Sarah replied right away, as if no time had passed.
Mina:AHHHH WHAT A VISION.
Sarah:CAN’T WAIT FOR THE WEDDING (and for you to meet Nell!!!)
“Sarah’s getting a plus-one?” Rae asked.
“Guess she is now,” Ellen said with an unconcerned laugh. “I’m not having assigned seating.”
“What kind of cupcakes will there be?” Rae asked, cutting to the important questions.
“Not sure yet. Maybe my maid of honor could take the lead on that?”
“Yes, please,” Rae said, already dreaming upKarat CakeandS’more Love. “We’ll call them ‘couple cakes.’”
Ellen let out an early-twenties squeal, and she and Rae danced around in the spacious wedding shop like they used to dance in the scrunched penthouse living room.
“It’s harder to jump up and down in a wedding dress than a bathrobe,” Ellen said, seeming to be replaying the same scenes as Rae. “But twirling is more fun.” The train of her dress fanned at her feet.
Rae spun her partner around, trying not to spoil the moment with self-indulgent nostalgia. “I get your first dance,” she said, carefully selecting the present-tense verb.
“Yes,” Ellen said, smiling and crying and flying in white-lace wonder as the song dipped into an instrumental end. “You got my first dance.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
UPWARD REVISIONS
“We need to send a revised term sheet by EOD,” Rae’s boss—her real manager, not one of the wannabes—said over the phone one Saturday morning in May. “Jim thinks JPMorgan’s valuation number is higher, and there’s no fucking way we’re letting this deal slip through our fingers—it’ll be our biggest one of Q2.”
