“Just do it!” Clare calls. “There are so many left, and we can’t pour them back into the bottle.”
“Fine.” I reach for one of the flutes of champagne and toss it back to the whoops and hollers of the Bell sisters.
I’m not sure when they both decided to tag team to get me drunk, making me take shots of champagne for them (which, by the way, is a terrible idea). But apparently, because Holly’s missing out on a wild bachelorette party, she has decided to live vicariously through me at this shower, and I can’t argue with two pregnant women. They scare me.
The bubbles tickle the back of my throat after a pronounced swallow. My head spins. I don’t think I’ve ever had this much to drink. But after a whole day of
“Don’t stick your stomach out like that, sweetheart, you don’t want people thinking you’re the pregnant one,”and“Oh, I’m sure you’ll be next,”and a few“You’re not expecting too, are you?”I’m ready to not think for a while.
Maybe Clare and Holly aren’t evil as much as they know me and that I need something to keep me from breathing“I’m not pregnant. I just have a disease that makes it look like I am, and maybe as a society, we should stop commenting on stuff like that”fire on everyone who nears my dragon heart.
I make a plate of the cherry blossom macarons I repurposed for this reception and let the flour and sugar melt away on my taste buds, hoping it soaks up some of the alcohol.
A hand falls on the small of my back, then plucks one of my creations off my plate. “I hope you don’t think I’m going to make a habit of sharing my food with you.” I pivot to face Liam and wobble a smidge. His hand stabilizes me, landing on my hip.
“Not sharing if I steal it from you.” He grins, cheeks full ofmymacaron.
“Evie,” Holly shouts, inspecting a fluffy pink onesie with bear ears we all cooed over moments ago. “I’m still thirsty—”
“I just finished a flute,” I whine as Clare collects some hastily tossed wrapping paper. With the wall of presents Holly had to open, we sent the guests homes with happy stomachs, bouts of laughter, and smiles on their faces instead of having them endure hours of Holly opening toasters, wooden spoons, baby bottles, and a million different onesies. But now, Holly’s fingers are itchy, tearing through all the presents with wide eyes and a huge grin.
“You’re like halfway to where I was for Clare’s bachelorette,” she calls over, innocently flipping through a children’s book with a boy and the moon on the cover.
Clare flops back down on a chair and swipes a bead of sweat off her forehead. “Yeah, and I mean, I’m not holding it against you, but youdidmiss like the whole bachelorette and wedding so—”
“And I thought you held a grudge.” Liam snorts.
“Hearing still works great, bud,” Clare hollers.
My mother’s heels clop over the hardwood dance floor, warning me her stint of ushering people to their cars with gratitude and a large toothy smile is over. “Evelina, if you have a second, your father and I would love to talk to you before you leave,” she says, smoothing out her skirt.
My eyes widen. Not today. Not before the wedding.
After everything I’ve trudged through this week, one last thing could break me, and I don’t want to risk it when I’m so close to the finish line.
I grab another flute of champagne sitting on the table of pre-poured glasses. “I’m sorry, I’m making up for lost time with Clare and Holly. Maybe tomorrow?”
“I thought you might say something like that.” My mother sighs. “So here.” She hands me a card, my name scrawled across in her perfect cursive. “I’ll be here when you want to talk about everything.”
I tuck the note in my purse. Whatever it is, I’ll read it when I’m back in Paris.
“Evie!” Holly says, grinning at the tiniest pair of sparkling ballet flats. “We need more alcohol.”
“Okay, seriously, how drunk did you get at Clare’s bachelorette?”
“I don’t know. I can’t remember.”
Oh, good!
“More, more, more.” Fists pound on the table, and consequently in my head, in O’Reilly’s, the town pub.
“Maybe I should take this one.” Holly’s friend Kylie snakes the shot glass out of my hand and downs it. My head spins, already two shots too far gone. In my current inebriated state, I’m having a hard time deciphering who exactly Kylie is. I’ve never heard Holly or Clare mention her, and the look of terror that cut across Holly’s face when she came and awkwardly hovered over the table before Clare invited her to sit wasn’t encouraging. But she’s taking bullets for me right now, so Kylie’s a benevolent queen as far as I’m concerned.
I bury my head in my hands, trying to steadysomething, anything.“I have to tap out. No more, you menaces.”
“I’ll go order you some poutine. You were a good sport.” Clare giggles, pushing off the table.
“I’ll come with you,” Holly says, her chair scraping against the dusty hardwood floor.
