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“My sister is hardly treating me like some influencer who she’s not fond of their look.”
“No, she isn’t. But first, if you don’t like an influencer’s look, pass it by. There is absolutely no need to make a mean comment about it. And second, you’re a real person in her life, someone who matters, someone she loves, so what she did is far, far worse, Coco, and somehow, she has to learn she can’t do it again. She doesn’t just get to say something and think she can scroll on to whatever’s next. Her words caused harm. She needs to account for that.”
“So it’s on me to teach her that lesson when it hurts me to do it?” I asked.
She did a one-shoulder shrug. “Only my opinion. But, yes.”
Marvelous.
“Sadly, Judge agrees with you,” I sniffed.
“I knew I liked him.”
Speaking of that particular devil, my phone binged.
I looked at it.
Bullshit. It’s either wedding or you’re angling for me to plant some at your house. Give it up.
I rent, I replied. Then, before he could read anything in that (like the truth), I whooshed off, As you know, it’s far too soon for wedding talk.
His reply was almost immediate, and even just getting the words, I knew they were dripping with disbelief.
Are you angling to garden at my house?
As if.
Me?
Garden?
“Are you still talking wisteria?” Mi asked.
“No,” I lied.
“You are so full of it,” she muttered, but at least she didn’t sound angry at Sasha anymore.
Mi thinks I shouldn’t give in too early to Sasha’s apologies, I told Judge.
Again, almost immediate, Mi’s right.
Bluh.
Then he sent, I knew I liked her.
Ugh.
“I decided in the heat of it yesterday to hold my grudge for a month with Sasha,” I told Mi.
“I vote two,” she retorted.
Well then, I wouldn’t share that now I was thinking only a day.
My phone binged again, a text from a number I didn’t know.
It said, We’re not doing some stupid-ass mutual bachelor/bachelorette party horseshit.
Who is this? I demanded.
Who else? Rix. And no mixed shower. I’m getting my boy drunk off his ass the night before and buying one gift. That’s it. And I speak for all his male friends on this.
My back straightened.
Because one thing that was non-negotiable about my wedding (actually, it all was, but this was ironclad).
My groom was not going to be hungover on the big day.
“What’s going on?” Mi asked.
“Judge’s friend Rix is staking claim to a non-mixed bachelor party and refuses to come to the shower.”
“Oh my God,” Mi said, both horrified and miffed.
Oh dear.
We haven’t even had a date! I snapped to Rix.
And before I could turn my attention to my friend, Mi pulled my phone out of my hand.
I blinked at her then watched as she took two steps back and started double-fisted maneuvers, my phone in one hand, hers in the other, her thumbs moving over the screens of both.
“What are you doing?” I inquired, but only because I didn’t want to face my suspicions as to her actions.
“I’m negotiating since we’re going to a strip club for your bachelorette party too, so might as well all go together,” she said, absently handing back my phone even as hers whooshed with a text.
Yes, this confirmed my suspicions.
“Mi—”
Not looking at me, still looking at her phone, she raised a hand my way and waggled a finger at me, shushing, “Shh.”
And there was another whoosh from her cell.
“It is not good at this juncture for you two to put this pressure on me and Judge,” I stated firmly.
Her phone binged, she read it and then looked at me. “He wants to know if we can arrange crash pads down here in Phoenix for about twenty of Judge’s buds. I think we can handle that. You have a guest bedroom. I have a guest bedroom. And your mom has at least three.”
“Mi!” I snapped.
“You brought up the wisteria,” she returned.
My phone sounded.
I looked down at it.
From Judge, I have high standards, baby. Maybe we should take the bachelor-bachelorette thing to Vegas?
I refused to feel the relief I actually felt that Judge had high standards about the gentlemen’s clubs he’d accept (as, naturally, I did too).
I also refused to feel the relief that it was clear he thought this was fun and wasn’t terrified about such discussions before we’d even officially been on a date.
Instead, I put together a group text that included the current offenders, upon which I declared, I’ve ceased talking to all of you for at least a day.
Mi giggled.
Rix texted, creating two chimes in my ears, No worries. You shouldn’t be in on the planning anyway.
Mi giggled again.
On our personal string, Judge cajoled, I hope that doesn’t include me.
It especially includes you. You gave my number to Rix.
Mi had her own whooshes and chiming, and she declared, “Rix is coming to the next Cooking Club.”
