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Clean up on aisle five, bitter old maid in a bridesmaid dress.
“Hey,” Anthony said, insulted about the barrette comment as he pulled his wife to his side, who thumped me on
the head.
“Sorry,” I said sheepishly in an attempt to save face. “I was being a shit to my mom. Not knocking the barrette. It’s beautiful.”
“Thank you,” Anthony said, leaning down to kiss my cheek. “I mean it, thank you for today.”
“My pleasure. I love you both so much,” I said in an attempt to sway my mood in a better direction.
Bree gripped my mother’s hand. “Nancy, dance with me?”
“I’d be honored,” she said, taking leave of her chair as Anthony sat next to me. “Where’s your brother?”
I rolled my eyes. “I think I saw him tackle a bridesmaid with a favor kit.”
He chuckled. “What’s a wedding without a little love tackle kit.”
“I can’t believe you let her get away with mini bottles of lube and condoms as wedding favors.”
Anthony was handsome in his tux—dark olive skin, kind brown eyes, and a perfect match for Bree. “I would let her get away with a whole lot worse, but don’t tell her I said so.”
“I’ll keep it under wraps.” I tapped my temple.
His eyes focused on me as I fiddled with one of the starched napkins. “Are you okay?”
“Nope, not at all, not even a little bit. I’m not even going to say with time or tomorrow after a good night’s sleep. You get no timeline. I may be that sloppy drunk a year from now who tells too many ‘you remember when’ stories like my prime has already passed, cries to her cats, and makes love to couch cushions.”
“That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard,” Anthony said with a frown.
“Those poor cushions,” I said, catching a tear of both irony and sadness. I’d come full circle and I was officially drunk.
“You are sleeping here tonight,” he said firmly.
“My mom has me. HA! That’s even sadder!” I proclaimed as a few heads turned in our direction.
“Sadder,” Anthony agreed with an amused grin.
“The saddest.”
Anthony winced.
“Okay, I can see the groom light dying in your eyes. Let’s cheer you up.”
“I’m sorry, Abbie,” he said sincerely. “I really liked him.”
I paused my snarky reply. “Don’t do that. Don’t be sincere and all adorable about my broken heart. I’ll be okay.”
“Really?”
“No, I’m devastated beyond repair,” I said dryly.
We stared at each other for a full ten seconds with straight faces before we burst into laughter.
“I thought you were serious.”
“I am, come dance with me.”
