Page 16 of Until the Last Star Fades

“Yeah, you more than most, Eri.” Leia yawned, her blue eyes hopping to Riley, who was fiddling with her ponytail. “I’ll be over in hair products.” The twenty-five-year-old’s boots scuffed aimlessly toward the rear of the shop.

“Was that a dig?” Riley examined the ends of her hair.

“No! Your hair looks super cute today! But—”

“What?”

“Your eyes look puffy— you did go out last night!”

“No! I was up late with Pip and her tequila.” Riley looked over her shoulder, praying her boss wouldn’t swoop in and catch her socializing. Thankfully, her engagement news would have to wait. She exhaled quietly, relieved that Erika—who was eating, breathing, and sleeping weddings—could be kept in the dark a little longer. One whisper of Josh having proposed and Erika’s delighted squeals would be heard all the way back to Staten Island and their old neighborhood. Riley’s boss would probably celebrate, too—by firing her.

“Aw! I get it. I used to drink when I missed Scott. It sucks being apart.” Erika sighed and rifled through a row of perfume boxes. “Want to do lunch? Tell me about spring break? I don’t have to pick up Stanley from daycare until three.” Stanley Pup was Erika and Scott’s Boston Terrier, named after the Stanley Cup, the NHL’s top prize. Riley adored him. In many ways, she preferred dogs to people—they were loyal, reliable, uncomplicated.

“Can’t—I’m broke.” She straightened the scents Erika had messed up. “And I’m here ’til closing, doing a double.”

“Is that smart?” Erika’s eyebrows lifted. “You look like you’re running on fumes, and isn’t tomorrow—”

“Did you see these?” Riley snatched a frosted bottle from a shelf, trading the rest of her friend’s sentence for a decadent eau de toilette spray. She waved it under Erika’s nose. Look! Shiny things! If it was new, heaven-scented, and eye-catching, Erika would latch on and forget what they had been talking about. “Just arrived. Limited edition.”

Erika’s eyebrows launched toward the ceiling, buoyed with competitive zeal. “Ooh! Leia doesn’t have that one!” Her pale manicure flew down the buttons of her coat, unveiling a designer dress yet to hit stores. “So! Get this—my bachelorette is almost planned!”

Riley cradled Erika’s perfume and started down the aisle. “Which one?” Leia was organizing all of Erika’s pre-wedding parties and gift grabs.

“Which one! The first one.” Erika’s intense concentration climbed the shelves. “Leia thinks she found the perfect club.”

“Male strippers? Seriously, that’s still the plan?”

With a nod, Erika’s chandelier earrings tinkled cheerily.

Riley scrunched her nose. “That’s such a cliché.”

“Babe, I want cliché. Every aspect of my life is ordered, professional, top notch. I want sweaty pelvises grinding in my face. I want handstands in banana hammocks! I want penis-shaped cake! Don’t be a killjoy—let me have my smutty fantasy.” Erika giggled, dumping several boxes of perfume into Riley’s arms. “Leia’s taking this research seriously. She has one more club next Friday and then she’ll make her decision. The timing couldn’t be better.”

“Why?”

“The Islanders’ western road trip? Tyler won’t be around to distract her and with Scott gone, I can get the 411 about the dancers! But only if his arm is better and he travels with the team. He’s dying to get revenge on the LA Ducks.”

“You mean LA Kings.” Riley smiled politely at a passing customer.

“Ducks, Kings—all I care about is the guys being gone for six days, and Leia and I are taking full advantage. You should, too! We’ll have a girls weekend! Cocktails, manis, pedis—my treat. Oh! And we can check out her apartment reno and try on her new upcycling designs. There’s a dress screaming my name!”

More things I can’t afford. “Does Leia know you’re inviting me?”

Erika crossed her arms like a teacher disciplining a student. “Rye, I need my maids of honor to get along.”

I shouldn’t have let Erika guilt me into this. Being a bridesmaid is sucking the life out of me—and my bank account. I can barely afford groceries let alone my dress…

“Scowls will ruin my wedding photos—”

“Talk to Leia, then.” Riley checked her whereabouts. Leia was at the back of the store slouched beside a black and white striped pillar, checking her phone. “She gives me the cold shoulder and I’m the one getting the lecture? It’s been four months and I’m still waiting for a thank you. I spent three weeks filming and editing that reel for her boss’s Fashion Week charity. I guess it created itself, right?”

“I know, I know. It’s just…”

“Easier to tell me to play nice? Eri, I know you want to stay in her good graces—”

“I can’t miss the Met Gala!”

“You act like it’s life or death.”