My phone buzzes in the little puke-green clutch my mom got me to match my dress, and I pull it out to find a text from Pansy. It’s a link to Pads by Pansy, which I open with no small amount of consternation.
I recognize the first “pad” in her portfolio right away. It’s José’s apartment…or it was.
Oh shit.
He was all about stark minimalism in the past, after spending a week in Sweden, but not anymore. Everything in his apartment looks like it’s grown a thick layer of faux fur. The sofa set is fluffy white, arranged atop a lush pink rug.
Cormac glances over my shoulder. “Oh, is that one of those before-and-after things? I wonder how someone could go about fixing that. Seems like you’d have to throw everything out and start at the beginning.”
You know, Cormac’s really starting to grow on me…
A throat clears, and I look over to see my brand-new stepfather, Eugene Peebles, standing with my mother on the small stage that presides over the dance floor, to the right of where we’re sitting. My mom’s beehive looks like it busted a leak, with hair spilling out, and Mr. Peebles is decidedly disheveled.
I hear Hannah muttering, “My man, Eugene.”
Cormac groans with real feeling, but at least our parents waited until we left the room to maul each other. Truthfully, I’m happy for my mother. She spent most of her life with a man who only remembered she existed when he needed something, and now she’s married to a guy who treats her like she’s his North Star. It’s exactly what she deserves.
Do I wish he hadn’t been my elementary school principal?
Sure, but it’s not like I knew him personally back then. All I remember was that he had this big bushy mustache, and we were all fascinated by it. I’d started a rumor that it was fake, adhered by superglue, and someone had actually tried to tear it off.
This situation is undoubtedly more uncomfortable for Cormac, who actually had my mom as his second-grade teacher. While I don’t even remember what my second-grade teacher’s name was, I’ll bet Cormac remembers everything.
“We’re so grateful you’re all here,” Eugene says with the grin of a man who just got lucky. “And we’d like to give a specialthanks to my good friend Hannah, without whom my lovely wife and I would never have reconnected.”
Yeah, about that. He was her boss, technically speaking, for years. She’s a second-grade teacher at Lakeshore Elementary, and he used to be the principal.
Hannah stands and delivers a dramatic bow.
“They’ll be serving the salads momentarily,” Eugene continues, “but first let’s have a few words from the best man and the maid of honor.”
I glance at Cormac, who’s running his fingers across the edge of the tablecloth as if he’s seriously considering pulling it up and hiding beneath it.
“Rock, paper, scissors for which of us has to go first,” I whisper.
He silently counts off on his left hand and then presents me with his fisted right hand just as I play paper with a flat hand.
He frowns as I engulf his rock. “Rock was the strategic choice.”
“Apparently not.”
Sighing, he gets up from his chair and walks toward his father, his long legs eating up the distance. I watch him with a smile, anticipating what he’s going to say.
Hannah pokes me. “Friend meeting. As soon as dinner is over. I need an update on whatever’s going on with Pansy Pants. I’ve already texted Briar and Sophie about it.”
“No argument from me. Check out Pansy’s new business.” I flash her my phone screen—the nightmare website on full display—and she snatches it from my hand just as Cormac reaches the stage.
I settle back in my seat, feeling my attention pulled between Cormac and Hannah. He looks nervous as he liberates the microphone from his father. I smile at him, not that he’s looking, and then glance back at Hannah, who’s already snickering asshe scrolls through the photos. She passes the phone along to Travis, who probably knows an uncomfortable amount about my private life, including the whole Marco conundrum.
I don’t mind. I like that he doesn’t try to tone Hannah down and change her. He’s like the anti-Pansy.
Maybe they can both help me figure out how to deal with my extortion problem. Because there’s no way in hell I’m letting Pansy “pimp our pad,” as she threatens to do on her website. In fact, I’ve already hired our friend Sophie, who’s a crafting genius, to make some seasonal updates to the brewery in a couple of months. No way am I firing my actual friend and hiring Pansy.
My gaze shifts back to Cormac as he clears his throat—directly into the microphone—and says, “I don’t really believe in marriage.”
A fantastic start.
Mr. Peebles looks a little hard done by but not necessarily surprised. My mother is giving Cormac the same look he probably got from her in second grade.
