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Maybe she isn’t that different.
“Wait, you’re Sebastian Evan’s Guinevere!” Josephine gasped, turning toward me, though she didn't seem that shocked.
“No—”
“Isn’t your wedding in like, two weeks? Where is your ring?” She leaned closer to look at my fingers.
I slid my hands slowly under the table.
“Josephine, that isn’t really…” Stevie tried to figure out what to say.
I put my hands on hers and smiled, looking back to the rest of the waiting women. “Our wedding—”
“Oh my god, did he really leave you for someone else’s bride?” One of the women lifted up her cellphone. “I just googled him. He owns Class and Rebel magazines, right? Is this true?”
There were gasps and a few shocked giggles. Some women covered their mouths as they waited for me to respond.
Reaching into the middle of the table, I grabbed the bottle, poured myself a full glass, and drank. I didn’t stop until I'd finished the whole thing.
“Yes…” I paused for a second with my hand on my chest to keep from burping. “Yes, it’s all true, and I don’t have to give you details about it, nor would any of you find it worth giggling about it if had happened to you. Do you have more questions, Josephine? Or would you like to actually talk about the upcoming wedding of our dear friend here?”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know—”
“Of course you didn’t. Let’s just not talk about it again so you don’t look like a horrible person.” I smiled, shifting the bottle back into the middle of the table. “And you were right, I’m sure I’ll never forget that glass.”
“Well, maybe you’ve had enough,” she announced to the rest of the ladies at the table.
I felt like asking what the hell her problem was. What had I done to her?
Stevie squeezed my arm. “Gwen, that’s enough,” she whispered.
I didn’t know how much longer I could do this. If it hadn’t been for Stevie, I would have left a while ago—or probably never come there at all. I could see I didn’t fit in with these people, and I couldn’t lie, it bothered me how well Stevie did.
“My favorite story of Stephanie is…” Josephine tried to think, and then snapped her polished fingers. “When we were in Brunello Cucinelli, trying to find gifts for Nathaniel and David, but we didn’t know their sizes, so we pulled over the clerks and had them wear the clothes—”
“Josephine!” Stevie giggled, smacking her napkin at her.
“I promise you, no clerks were hurt in the process.” Josephine went on as the rest joined Stevie in laughing.
I just smiled. It sounded fun…sort of. I guessed it was one of those things where you just had to be there.
When their giggles died down, they looked to me, waiting.
“Oh, it’s my turn.” I sat up, grinning.
“Oh, good.” Stevie put her head in her hands.
“Well, you might not know this, but Stevie and I were the biggest tomboys in Cypress, and we always got in trouble with the boys—”
“No, you got in trouble with the boys. I stood in the background,” she replied, pointing at me before drinking.
“Really? Who pushed poor Jeremy in the river with the sockeye salmon and threw fish food at him because he said she looked like a redheaded bear?”
She coughed, almost spitting out her wine.
“She what?” Josephine frowned, confused. “What happened after?”
“Jeremy screamed like a baby and never called me a redheaded bear ever again,” Stevie said, proudly nodding her head.
