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Mila
IT IS A TRUTH UNIVERSALLY acknowledged that a woman in possession of a job must have a work bestie.
It’s not even a truth, really. It’s an undeniable fact. Having someone you can talk to, gossip with, go to lunch with, compare outfits with, have inside jokes with, mock people with … all while at work? It’s the best—and probably fastest—way to get through the day.
I’ve had the same work best friend for close to two years now, and I’ve come to rely on her like no one else in my life. We’ve laughed together, cried together, hated on the same people together. We’ve even taken this thing outside of work, and the friendship remained standing.
But, despite all that—despite knowing the days will be so much harder to endure without her, that my verylifewill be harder without her—I’m going to have to cut my work best friend loose.
“Please, Mila?” my soon-to-be-former bestie asks, her deep-brown eyes pleading with me. Her impeccably styled bun, which is neatly holding her dark-brown hair in place, remains immaculate as she fidgets around, anticipating my answer.
She already knows my answer: not only no, buthellno.
She pounced on me just as I arrived at work—before I could even get settled in my office, in my little corner space with the exposed brick—and is now sitting across from me, an L-shaped desk between us, the massive diamond on her ring finger and her bronze skin glowing under the recessed lighting. My nearly-ex-friend glows under any light source, truly. With or without makeup. The brat.
It’s important to note here that her beauty is not the reason I need to unfriend her at this time. Nor is the fact that she looks amazing in the black sheath dress she’s currently wearing. I’m envious of her flawless looks, but not shallow.
I take a deep breath. “Nadia Singh, you know how I feel about weddings. Especiallybeingin a wedding.” I hate both, which I’ve explained to her many times. I’ve promised myself I’ll never have to go to another one, unless it’s my own wedding, and in that case, it will be a very simple ceremony at a courthouse with absolutely zero hoopla.
“I know, Mila Banks,” she says, her tone mocking, her head cocked to the side with a veryWhy are you like this?look. “But you have to be up there with me. I need you by my side when I do this.”
Bythisshe means marrying the very handsome and ridiculously rich Shane Richardson. They met at a casual after-work gathering we went to nearly a year ago. Shane doesn’t work for AppInnovate, where Nadia and I are employed, but his best friend, Grayson Manning, is the CEO.
Side note: Grayson (who I nicknamed BILK—Boss I’d Like to Kiss—because Boss I’d Like to Father My Children was too long and BILFMC just doesn’t work) also happens to be the star of 94 percent of my romantic daydreams, with the other 6 percent featuring Henry Cavill. I’ve tried desperately to get him and his white button-down shirts out of my head for so many reasons. First and foremost, he’s my boss.Secondly, he’s myboss. And thirdly, HE’S MY BOSS. There are more reasons, obviously, but those are the top three. I think to truly get him out of my brain, I’d have to quit my job. And I actually love this job, despite the woman sitting across from me right now, asking me to do harrowing things.
But back to Nadia and the obscenely rich Shane. It was basically love at first sight for the both of them. Their eyes met from across a crowded room. There was an instant connection before they even said hello. Actually, this is how Nadia likes to tell the story, but I was there, so what really happened is our boss, Grayson (the BILK), brought Shane over to the high-top table Nadia and I were sitting at and introduced us to him. I know for a fact Nadia hadn’t noticed Shane before that, because at the time she was still my work bestie, and she would have said something if she had. Nadia does not gatekeep hot-man sightings.
Anyway, Grayson introduced us, and then it became extremely clear that Shane only had eyes for Nadia because he basically ignored me and immediately started up a conversation with her, leaving me and the BILK to talk, and, well, very awkward things happened. But that’s another story.
So now, Shane and Nadia are getting married in Oahu at the Four Seasons (I did say Shane was filthy rich, didn’t I?), and even though they just got engaged a couple of weeks ago, the wedding is next month. Because, according to Nadia, when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want that life to start as soon as possible. I’m fairly confident that’s a line from a movie, but she claims she came up with it. The real story goes: they were told there was a cancellation, and they figured, why not?
As of yesterday, when she informed me of these new and unexpected wedding plans, it was just going to be a small affair because it was happening so fast. Just Shane, Nadia, and their families. This was good news for me since, as I previously mentioned, I hate weddings.
But then, sometime last night, Nadia decided she didn’t want that cozy family wedding. She wanted a big wedding. And of course, since Shane’s backbone magically disappears in her presence, he now wants to make all her wedding dreams come true.
“You don’t need me by your side when you marry Shane,” I tell her. “You’ll have your sisters. And … I’m like a foot taller than all three of you. I’d be the lone pale and lanky white girl up there.” Nadia’s parents are from Guyana and have Indian roots—they are an entire family of beautiful people. “Not to mention the fact that you’re all gorgeous and I’m just … you know … me.” I run my hands down my longish torso to accentuate my words. “I’ll ruin your pictures.”
This feels like a really solid excuse, and I’m actually quite proud of myself for coming up with it just now. Nadia isn’t having it, though.
“What?” she scrunches her perfect button nose at me. “Please stop with your dumb excuses. You couldn’t ruin the pictures, Mila, you’re gorgeous. Also, no one with boobs like that could be called lanky.”
Ah, yes, the one thing I have that Nadia claims to be envious of: my chest. I can’t help that I inherited it from my mother, may she rest in peace. It’s important to note here that she’s not actually dead. She and my dad recently moved to a retirement community in Boca Raton, which is much too far away from Colorado—specifically Denver, where I was basically born and raised and where I’ve lived most of my adult life, except for a three-year stint in Seattle. So, because she is no longer a quick drive away and left me here alone with only my brother, Everett, his wife, Gwen, and their three crazy boys, she’s now dead to me.
Except we just got off the phone twenty minutes ago, as I was driving to work. AndIcalledher. Well, I’m just going to have to restart my estrangement over again. Starting right now. I should probably admit that I had to start over yesterday as well.
My eyes move back to Nadia. “Iampale, though.” Maybe this excuse will be enough. It’s not a reach either. I’ve got the coloring of a vampire. I’m even wearing my favorite red A-line dress today because I couldn’t believe the washed-out ghost that was staring back at me in the mirror this morning. I thought matching my lipstick color to my dress was a solid choice, except now I just look like a washed-out ghost wearing red.
Nadia gives me a small, acquiescing nod and a quick shrug of her shoulders. “I’ll give you that. Would it kill you to get a little sun?”
“I burn easily,” I tell her. Curse you, Scandinavian ancestors. I get that from my traitor-that-moved-away mom’s side, and my blue eyes too. My medium-brown hair and tall, but maybe-not-so-lanky body, however, is all from my dad’s side. My dad left me and moved away to Boca Raton too, but for some reason, I don’t blame him as much. Probably because the whole thing was my mom’s evil idea.
Nadia shakes her head at me. “That’s not an excuse, Mila. I’m not letting you out of this. You have to be my maid of honor. You were there the first time I met Shane. You have become one of my dearest friends, and my wedding party won’t be complete without you.”
My gosh. I didn’t peg Nadia as such a clinger. Not quite a level ten, but she’s hovering around five or maybe even six right now. Unfriending her is going to be much harder than I anticipated.
“I really don’t think—”
“Mila,” she cuts me off. “The only answer I’ll accept is:It would be my honor to be in your wedding, Nadia. Thank you for asking me.”
