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“I think so too,” her mom adds. Ever so slightly, she turns her head toward the rest of us and gives us a quick little nod, her eyebrows raised, nonverbally telling us to all agree so we can get this show on the road.
“I love it,” I say quickly.
“It’s stunning,” adds Leela.
“Absolutely gorgeous,” chimes in Melissa, the salesperson. I think she, too, was worried we’d have to start over again.
“Okay,” Nadia says, a breathless quality to her voice. “This is it, then.” I can see tears pooling in the base of her eyelids as she looks at herself. “This is the dress. I’m … getting married. I’m getting married!” She does a little clapping and dancing thing, as much as can be done in the fitted gown.
I look over to see her nani and her mom tearing up as well. Her sisters look more relieved, which is how I’m feeling, yet I can’t help but be touched and happy for my best friend, even with all my negativity right now.
One thing done. Now on to the bridal shower.
“OMG, DOES SHANE HAVE A brother?” says Fiona, one of Nadia’s Kappa Kappa Gamma sorority sisters from when they attended CU in Boulder. This is after Nadia has regaled everyone at the bridal shower with the tale of how she met Shane, with her added embellishments of course. This time she said she knew he was the one after that first meeting in the bar, when in reality, later that night, she’d told me that he seemed like he could be a “fun summer fling.”
We’re sitting in Nadia’s parents’ living room, with Nadia front and center in a floral armchair, and the rest of us squishing onto the two matching sofas and the dining room chairs that have been set up to form a sort of circle in the room. She’s already opened gifts, and almost every single one was a different style of barely-there lingerie. That was super fun to open in front of Nadia’s nani. She didn’t seem to mind, though.
I’d like to say I was different and got her something practical, but I’d also bought her lingerie. Although, it was tasteful—only because I knew her family would be around when she opened it, so the purple G-string panties and the matching bra went back on the rack.
“He’s got two sisters,” says Nadia, a pleasant smile on her face. I’m not sure how she does it—she’s been smiling and laughing all evening. Ever the pleasant hostess. I, on the other hand, can feel an actual burning in my cheeks from all the fake laughing I’ve been doing.
I should note that there has been some real laughter too. It’s just that I have PTSD from anything wedding related, so I’m also just sort of going through the motions right now.
I’ve met some of Nadia’s friends before, and I’m not just saying this because I’m one of her best friends, but she has good taste in the people she’s closest to. I haven’t felt one ounce of animosity or envy from any of the people here tonight. It might be that some of them are already married or in long-term relationships. Regardless, they all seem genuinely happy for her. I am too; I just would like to be genuinely happy for her in a different role than as her maid of honor.
“Bummer,” says Brittany, another sorority sister. I actually think every person besides Nadia’s family and yours truly is from her sorority.
I’ve been doing reconnaissance work, trying to find out who here tonight would be a better choice for maid of honor. Out of the fourteen women attending the shower tonight, only a handful can make the wedding. Both Brittany and Fiona will be there, and I think either would be a good bet. Right now, Fiona gets my top vote, with her long red hair and the kind of freckles that some spend hours trying to fake. She’s a wellness coach and a short, petite thing who will not stand out as much as I will in Nadia’s pictures, nor be a wedding jinx.
“He does have a very handsome best man, though,” Nadia says, her eyes moving briefly over to me, where she gives me a quick, almost imperceptible wink.
“Ooooh.” Brittany and Fiona look at each other and coo at the same time, and some of the others echo the sentiment.
“He’s actually my boss. The CEO. And he’s single.” Nadia says that last part in a singsong voice. Now even more ladies chime in.
“The CEO? Is he looking for a wife?” a woman I think is named Shar asks, and giggles fill the room.
My stomach does a little flipping thing. Suddenly I’m seeing a very clear picture of one—or a few—of these women dancing and flirting it up at the wedding withmyGrayson. I mean, notmyGrayson. Just Grayson. There’s nomyanything. However, despite that important distinction, I can’t help the prickles of red-hot fury that push up against my breastbone.
“He’s a workaholic, though,” I say, the words spilling out of my mouth. “He’s like always working and never has time for anything … because he works.” Yes, yes. Good job, Mila. You saidworka lot. Super convincing. Also, what the hell are you doing? The BILK isn’t yours, and you don’t want him to be yours either. You’re just attracted to him because he’s your boss. But also, he is, in fact, attractive. In both looks and personality. It’s so unfair.
To my surprise, Nadia nods her head in agreement, almost as if she, too, wants to keep her friends away from him, even though it seemed like she was just reading off his dating résumé. “He’s definitely always working.”
Fiona lifts a petite shoulder and lets it drop. “Workaholics are my brand of man,” she says. “Nothing serious can come of it.” Some of the others snicker at this.
With that comment, the tiny prickles now feel more like a large fire poker in my chest. Poke, poke, poke. I’ve just decided Fiona has moved from the top of my list of potential maids of honor to the very bottom. Brittany has my vote.
But now I’m picturing lovely Brittany with her silky, soft-blond hair and her ripped arm muscles (I’d ask her what she does for her workout, but I’d never do it, so that would be a waste of both our time) walking arm in arm down the aisle with Grayson, palm trees and the Pacific Ocean as the backdrop. Or sitting together at the head table, making googly eyes at each other as they clink their champagne glasses together. I don’t even know if there will be a head table, but this is my bad dream, so this is how I’m picturing it.
Maybe I should tell them he’s not into flings. I’m not even sure that’s true, but it feels like it is. It doesn’t seem like a Grayson thing to do. I could also tell them that even though he’s the CEO, I get the idea that he’s not rolling in the money. He drives an older car, never talks about where he lives or about going on lavish vacations, or any vacations really. I can’t actually remember a time when he’s taken a vacation since I started working for him.
In the end, I don’t have to say anything because Nadia’s mom, Shanti, asks everyone if they’re ready for cake, and that seems to move them away from the topic.
I’m still hanging on to it, though. Perhaps I’ve been looking at this the wrong way. Sure, if I go, I have a 99.999 percent chance of doing something to ruin Nadia’s wedding. I’d say 100 percent, but there’s still that small part of me that’s holding out hope. But if I don’t go, I could be throwing Grayson into the lion’s den—and yes, I just compared beautiful, intelligent women to lions on the prowl. Not one of my better moments.
Let’s be honest: I’m probably not going to get the nerve to throw myself down some stairs, and even if I did, with my luck, I’d probably twist an ankle or something that wouldn’t keep me from going on this work trip. So, since I already have to be there for that, I might as well be in the wedding, even if it’s just to save Grayson.
Grayson
