if Violet said bitch, not Abi? Hmm.” He ponders to himself and then says, “I admit I thought the bitch square was going to be about Claire Johnson, though.”
He ducks his chin behind his ring- and tattoo-covered hand to stage-whisper, “She’s not really all feel-good, do-gooder, is she? It’s a social media front to cover her bridezilla, bitcherella true self. Gotta be.” He nods sagely, certain in his assessment.
“No, she’s actually that nice, from what I could tell. And gorgeous, even out of makeup and hair. And adorably in love. Cole got N’Sync to sing for her as a wedding surprise. They were as cute as puppies—Claire and Cole, C2K, not N’Sync—all googly-eyed and all over each other while they sang off-key. It was . . .”
“Shit, shit, shit,” Archie hisses as I start to break down, tears spilling silently down my cheeks. “My bad! I thought she was gonna say Claire was awful and I could get my ‘divorce waiting to happen’ square.” To Violet and Courtney, he apologizes by waving his hands around. “I didn’t think she was gonna go all hormonal about the Social Media Darling and Mr. Khaki Pants. I mean, who’d think that?”
Violet growls. “Yeah, why in the world would someone else getting their happily ever after with the wedding of the year bother Abs? Oh, not to mention, she was reduced to faking a honeymoon to keep our childhood nemesis from gloating about her own honeymoon. Literally everyone around Abi is married but her . . . why would that possibly bother her, Archie?”
Time freezes as Violet’s blurted words sink into us all. Me especially.
The tears aren’t quiet this time. Nope, ugly sobs wreck me and I bury my head in my hands.
“Ah, fuck!” she snaps. “I’m sorry, honey! I’m so sleep-deprived my mouth-brain filter isn’t firing on all cylinders. Sorry!”
Archie whispers, “You have a filter? Ever?” He shrugs and examines his black-polished nails. “Huh, news to me.”
Courtney stands up and claps her hands. Boss Bitch is taking over this party. “You . . . get her tissues. You . . . another refill. She’s earned it. Abi . . . tell us everything about this fake honeymoon thing and Lorenzo. All of it.” She takes my chin in her hand, lifting my eyes to hers. “All. Of. It, understood?”
She’s my younger sister, and we spent a lot of years in the same family without being as close as we should be. The few years’ age difference had seemed massive when she was playing with dolls and I was playing in the dirt with the gardener, learning the Latin names of the plants and how to propagate species, or off with Violet, my sister from another mother. And later, she’d been the straight-and-narrow to my twisted, devil-may-care ways, and I’d kept her as far out of my business as I could so Mom and Dad didn’t find out about the crazy shit Vi and I got up to. Not that it was that crazy, but it’d seemed like it was at the time.
But as adults, Courtney and I have found our way to each other as sisters and as friends. She would do anything for me and always has my best interests at heart. Even when I fight her on it or don’t want her to get involved, she’s got my back and will do what’s needed.
I sigh. “Yeah, let’s do this. Might as well get it over with so you can tell me ‘I told you so’ and we can move on.”
My whole body feels tingly, full of jangly nerves and jittery confusion, so I get up, needing to pace for this. “I get there, and literally at check-in, I see Emily Jones.”
Violet makes a spitting noise, aiming toward the floor. I’m assuming it was spitless because she bought me this rug and loves it as much as I do.
“And there’s your ‘divorce waiting to happen’, Archie. She was whining about having to wait in line and wanted to cut in front of me. She realized it was me and was all fake ‘Abi!’ like we’re buds,” I say, going full Mean Girls dramatic.
I pause in my tracks as I see Archie trying to sneak a penny on his bingo card and doing a tiny, silent shout out, “Bingo!” When he sees that I’ve caught him, he doesn’t miss a beat, waving his hand expectantly. “Well, go on. Maybe I’ll get a blackout bingo by the end.”
I sigh, annoyed, but fuck, I love