Fern shows up.
“Done.Thatwasthelast one,” Ren announced, tossing her phone onto the bed and slumping back in her chair with closed eyes. Her empty hand grasped at the air.
“What?” Fern asked, putting her own phone back on the charger. Twenty calls per person hadn’t felt like too many when they’d first sat down to tell the guests they shouldn’t travel north anymore. But after the fifth demand of “What happened? Who called it off?” Fern was ready to rip her own hair out. She couldn’t imagine how Ren felt.
“Take me away.”
“To where?” Liv asked.
Ren kept clasping the air. “Metaphorically. Get me drunk. Someone put a bottle in my hand.”
“It’s only eleven-thirty,” Fern said.
Ren sat straight up, mouth agape. “Is that a no?!”
“It’s a yes, unless you wanna get high and start drinking later?” Fern offered.
“Not around me!” Liv shouted.
“Obviously,” Fern replied loudly, flapping her hands in the air. “The offer wasn’t for you,Mama.”
“I’m in. Let’s go outside. I want to eat the cake, too. Livvy worked hardon it, it’s fucking gorgeous, and I picked the flavor because it’smyfavorite,” Ren continued petulantly, as if either of her friends would disagree.
Fern raced to her bag, delighted to smoke a bowl with her bestie, while Liv stood and stretched her neck. “I’ll work on that room service order while you two work on your appetite.”
Liv disappeared out the interior door, and Fern and Ren slipped out to the balcony. It wasn’t long before they met back in the suite as Adam arrived with a few members of his staff to deliver the food: one whole wedding cake minus the topper, plates for all, chocolate milk for the mom-to-be, and two bottles of champagne for Ren and Fern.
Adam went on to give them VIP treatment all day. He claimed he could because he had no other guests, but clearly, he—like the rest of them—felt awful about Renata’s wedding gone wrong.
“Gohome,Olivia,”Renannounced abruptly, sometime around nine at night. Liv froze by the bathroom door, cocking her head in question. “I’ll say bye before I leave tomorrow. Just go home, see your man, keep growing that little bambino for me. I know you need sleep.”
“I’ll stay,” Fern said to Liv, intending to reinforce Ren’s suggestion.
“I’ll stay too,” Liv offered, starting to kick off her sandals.
“No, you go. I love you, but you’re pregnant, I’ve been running you ragged, and you’ve done so much for me already.” Ren was adamant, so Liv took her leave after a long hug and whispered words of empowerment.
Wearing a small smile, Renata returned to the sitting area where they’d set up camp for the evening. On the coffee table between them, Fern’s phone buzzed.
“Fuck, it’s my mom. I don’t wanna,” she whined, nudging it away with the back of her hand.
“Did you get in a fight or something?”
“I told her off a few days ago. A week ago, maybe?”
“And you haven’t talked since?” Renata checked.
“Nope.”
“I’m going to take a shower. Take your call.” Ren hopped up, and after a momentary sway, stooped to grab a bottle of champagne before shuffling to the bathroom.
The call had gone to voicemail, and Fern’s mom hadn’t left a message, but Fern was feeling gratuitous, and maybe a little drunk, so she called back.
“Fern,” Mom answered with a sigh.
“Mom.”
A second sigh, bigger than the first, shimmied through the phone like her mom was walking through a windstorm. She wasn’t. Fern had a feeling she was sitting in her living room with a glass of Franzia—fresh from the box that lived in the fridge. She had money for better but swore she preferred the taste.
