Loathe at First Sight - Suzanne Park Page 0,16

group murmured and nodded. I could hear phrases like “dead weight,” “CEO’s pet,” and “lazy motherfuckers” emerge from the chatter. And I agreed with all of it.

“If you need our help, let us know,” another guy said to me. “But maybe you’ll have enough help from Ian’s pet intern.” The crowd dispersed quickly, like an anti–flash mob.

A slow smile spread across my face with the realization that I’d just won support from a few important players in the office. A huge win in my book.

Chapter Six

I had just put on my flannel pajamas and poured myself a glass of white wine when Jane unlocked my apartment door and walked in, as if she lived there.

My jaw tightened. “Hey! I gave you those keys for emergencies only. You’re not supposed to come in here anytime you want. I don’t waltz into your place with your keys.”

Jane paused at the door, and for a second she made me think she cared about what I said.

“I forgot to bring my new set of keys for you. I changed my locks a few months ago.” My keys to her apartment wouldn’t have worked anyway.

She plopped down on the sofa next to me and examined the half-empty bottle of wine on the coffee table. Lifting the wineglass out of my hand, she sniffed its contents and took a gulp.

Her current like-to-hate ratio was about 65:35 and getting lower by the second.

“Wellll, did you notice anything?” She held out her left hand without giving me a chance to actually guess. Holy fucking shit, she had on an engagement ring that looked like a very luxurious Ring Pop.

“Oh wow! You’re engaged! And the ring is so . . .” I couldn’t think of the right adjective to describe that honking diamond ring without sounding like an asshole. Once you hit a certain size of diamond it went from pretty to gaudy superfast. I needed to say something.

Your diamond would make a beautiful paperweight.

You could cut a lot of glass with that sucker.

It could set forest fires with the right sun angles. Be careful.

“Your ring is so . . . perfect for you!” Bam. Best words ever.

She beamed at me. “Thank you, Mel! That’s so sweet.” She’d never done that before, made a comment so outwardly kind. My stomach tightened, knowing something unsettling was about to happen.

“I was wondering, Mel, since you’ve been such a wonderful friend the last few years . . .”

Oh no. Jane’s asking me a favor. Oh no.

“. . . I would love it if you’d be my maid of honor.”

Her maid of honor? But . . . we’d hated each other for more than 50 percent of the duration of our acquaintance. I couldn’t handle a prima donna like Jane. Being her maid of honor would be a nightmare. How could I get out of this? In general, I hated weddings (except for the cake). I’d never been in a wedding party before.

“Oh, that’s so sweet that you thought of me. Wow. What about Candace, though?”

“I already asked her. She declined because she committed to being maid of honor for her cousin and for her best friend from high school. She said she wouldn’t be able to give me the attention I deserved.”

Well, hell. I wasn’t even first pick. I tried to think of something to free me from this obligation. I couldn’t think of anything. Not a single thing! My mind drew a complete blank. Damn you, stupid blank mind!

She looked at me with earnest eyes, like a puppy at the animal shelter needing a home. Other than the fact that she would drive me absolutely crazy and we might end up not on speaking terms after her wedding, I had no genuine reason for declining her request.

“I have some ground rules before I accept. And some boundaries. But . . . maybe?”

Her eyes widened. “Oh? You do? Like what?”

I tried to think of things that didn’t make ME sound like the lunatic in this arrangement. “Like, maybe, if we go over a certain budget for the bachelorette party, or for buying bridesmaid dresses and stuff like that, you could help chip in?” Jane had a taste for opulence. No way was I going to spend thousands of dollars for a wedding that wasn’t even mine.

She nodded. “Deal.” She cocked her head a little. “Anything else?”

“Uh, well, money was the biggest thing. Um, and dress shopping . . . I’ll go with you and stuff, but my taste is different from yours

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