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I pause. “I slept fine,” I reply, and maybe my voice is too high, or Ivy just has a sixth sense for gossip, because she gasps.
“You got laid!”
“Shhh,” I hush her, glancing around. “And no, I did not have sex last night.”
“But you got something. Second base? Third?” she presses. “Because you’re looking suspiciously relaxed, and I can only think of two things that make a girl that chilled, and customs would have confiscated the other one.”
I break into a grin. “OK, OK. I may have… spent some time with the best man,” I admit discreetly, and Ivy claps her hands together.
“I knew it! That man was staring at you all through dinner like he wanted to eat you up.”
And he did.
Boy, did he.
“So?” Ivy prompts me. “Did he live up to all that smoldering promise, or are you hiding out here to escape an awkward morning-after conversation?”
“No awkwardness,” I smile. “And yes, lots of smolder. But I still don’t really know the guy,” I remind her – and myself. “Sure, we have great chemistry, but he could be hiding a weird foot fetish, or some seriously incorrect opinions about Taylor Swift. I’m just going to play it cool, and see what happens next with him.”
Hopefully naked. With a pitcher of margaritas, and a blindfold – just for fun.
Before I can get too caught up in sexy plans for Josh, the brisk therapist returns, with a large bowl of teeny, tiny fishes that apparently, are going to nibble the dead skin off my feet with their teeny, tiny teeth. “No way,” Ivy gasps, leaning closer.
“No way,” I repeat. “Absolutely not.”
“But—”
“One pedicure, no bitey little fishes,” I repeat firmly. “Thank you.”
“I’ll take them!” One of the bridesmaids, a tall redhead with angular features, waves her over. “I’m DeeDee, by the way,” she adds, beaming at me and then Ivy, too. “Nice to meet you both!”
“We’ve met.” Ivy says, looking amused. “Twice last night and again twenty minutes ago.”
“Huh,” DeeDee looks bemused. “Well, hello again!”
“How do you know Avery?” I ask, watching with disbelief as DeeDee sinks her feet into the tub, and is promptly swarmed by the tiny fishes.
“Oh, we’re BFFs, we go back forever!” DeeDee exclaims, apparently unconcerned that she’s literally being eaten alive. “We were roomies, when she first moved to LA.”
“Are you an actress, too?”
“Heavens, no!” DeeDee trills a laugh. “I’m married. To Charles Montclair?”
The name rings a bell. “He’s that real estate guy,” Ivy whispers to me, as DeeDee chats to the therapist about lotions and color choice. “LA keeps suing him for building massive mega-mansions without the right permits. He evicted a whole group of nuns last year, just to tear down their convent that was blocking his view.”
“Oh. Lovely.”
DeeDee turns back to us. “Anyway, it’s so great Avery’sfinallygetting hitched. We were all beginning to worry, a girl only has so long to lock down her first husband while she’s still in her prime! You’re not still single, are you?” she adds, looking at me with pity.
“Hazel isn’t in the market for a husband, she has an amazing career.” Avery answers for me, arriving in a special mini robe with ‘bride’ spelled out in crystals on the front. She gives me a wink, joining us on the couch. “Not that you didn’t before you married Charlie,” she adds sweetly, “You were so great in those toilet paper commercials.”
DeeDee’s smile dims. Something tells me, Brooke was right about the backstabbing. And as the rest of the bridal party crowd around, gossiping and opening another bottle of bubbly, it soon becomes clear, they all have this weird competitive edginess.
“Here’s to the three most important choices a woman makes,” one of them raises her glass in a tipsy toast. “Her first husband, her personal archery trainer, and her divorce lawyer!”
“I know a great one,” another tells Avery. “Whenever you’re ready, say the word. He’s like a pit bull, got me half of Hugh’s publishing royalties, and the house in Vail.”
“I won’t need it. I’m not going to get a divorce,” Avery says firmly.
