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“They do this every time I get a facial,” Miranda says.
“There must be some therapeutic value to it,” I say, hoping someone might hear our conversation and answer our stupid question.
“I wonder how the boys are making out,” Miranda ponders aloud.
“Probably not well. I can only imagine what they are up to.” Amanda chuckles. “I’m sure they’ve already tried to drown Justin.”
“My face is starting to itch,” I announce, the cream starting to tighten across my cheeks.
“It’ll go away in a few minutes,” Miranda tells me.
“One more stop, then off to lunch,” Amanda announces.
“What else could we p
ossibly do?” I ask, astonished we’re still here.
“Mani-pedi’s,” they both say in unison, then burst into giggles.
“Oh,” is all I say.
“If we had more time, I would have booked us space in the sauna,” Amanda says.
“Ugh, too hot,” Miranda complains.
As if on cue, our therapists come back into the room. “To answer your question, cucumber is rich in silica. This is responsible for strengthening the connective tissues. Since the skin is a connective tissue, it helps keep it healthy. It also helps remove dark circles from around your eyes. And, as an added bonus, it’s an antioxidant,” she says, plucking the cucumbers from my eyes before peeling the mask from my face. I scrunch my face, working out the tight feeling. Mid-scrunch, she starts applying cream to my skin, smoothing out my expression. Taking a towel, she wipes off any residue and waves us off to get dressed.
Once dressed, we meet back in the center of the spa and head toward the salon. Shoes off and feet soaking, the ladies get to work.
“So, this is as good a time as any to discuss this.” Amanda is sitting in between Miranda and myself, making it easier to talk to both of us. “Ever since I met Nate, it’s always been about him. I don’t have many girl friends.” She pauses for a moment, furrowing her brows. “In fact, I don’t think I have any. Since Justin and Chase are like brothers to Nate, they’re standing up for him at the wedding . . .” she trails off and takes a sip of mineral water before turning to me. “Olivia, I know we’ve just met, and, Miranda,” she says, shifting toward her, “since you’ve only been dating Justin for a few weeks . . . I know this is probably strange, and a lot to ask, but would you girls be my maids of honor?”
“Of course we will!” Miranda exclaims.
“Um . . . I didn’t bring anything that would be suitable for a maid of honor,” I stutter, annoyed Miranda would answer for both of us. She doesn’t even know me.
“I brought some dresses with me and there’s a tailor here in case they’re too big or small.” Amanda looks over at me. “No, they should be okay, maybe have them taken in slightly.”
“Yay, I love new dresses!” Miranda squeals. I inwardly fume. Maybe Miranda is used to this kind of thing, but expensive dresses and shoes that cost more than my car make me uncomfortable.
“What color is the dress?” I ask, not really wanting to know the answer.
“It’s called haze. It’s a blue color, like the waters here.”
“Ohhh, who made it?” Of course Miranda would want to know that.
“Herve Leger, it’s one of his bandage line dresses. It’s called Viviane, and it’s exclusive.” I wonder if Chase knew about this.
“Ohmigod, I absolutely adore his line,” Miranda gushes.
“The dress will go fantastic with the Jimmy Choo silver sandals I got. Olivia, Chase gave me your shoe size,” Amanda tells me. Of course he did, the rat bastard.
“Oh,” I mumble, displeased.
“Don’t be mad at Chase. He told me you hate surprises, but I begged him not to tell you.”
“Does this mean silver toes?” Miranda asks, in her own little fashion world, while I’m still reeling over Chase keeping this from me.
“Yes. Silver for the toes, and French for the fingers.”
