She nodded again. “That’s true. I’m more Valentino and you’re like . . .” I could see her searching hard for the next adjective. “Like, not Valentino.”
Well, that was better than her insulting me. “Okay, one last question, how many bridesmaids are we dealing with?” I pictured myself in Vegas herding a group of drunk, stiletto-wearing Jane clones.
“Well, it’s just you, and Candace said she’d be in the bridal party.” She went from engagement giddiness to instant sadness. “You two are my only real friends.” Her lip trembled as she took a sip of wine.
Oh wow, she just tore out my heart and handed it back to me. I had to say yes. I was no monster.
“It would be my pleasure to be your maid of honor!” I hoped my sudden perkiness made up for my previous jerkiness.
“You’ll do it?! Thank you!” She hugged me and walked to the door. “I’ll call Sean, my fiancé, oh my god . . . I have a fiancé! He wants to get married sooner rather than later, but it all depends on what places are available, but you’ll be the first to know the date. Sean and I are going to have a bridesmaid and groomsman get-to-know-you dinner in a couple of weeks, so you can all meet each other.”
She paused as she turned the knob. “Oh, a quick warning. The best man was Sean’s fraternity brother and is kind of a dick. But you’ll only have to deal with his shit on the day of the wedding. Sean’s doctor friend is the other groomsman. He’s married.” She crinkled her nose and shrugged. “But you’re not really his type anyway.”
And there was the tactless Jane I hated.
“So what’s my first duty as maid of honor, Your Royal Highness?” I debated whether to confiscate her keys or not.
“First we’ll go look at wedding dresses together. Then shoes. Then bridesmaid dresses.” She looked me up and down. “I might choose a halter in a beigey-champagne color, but that will definitely wash you out even more. If we do a summer wedding, do you think you could get a tan?”
I nudged her out the door. “Sure, maybe I’ll get Botox, too, while I’m at it.”
She squealed, “Oh, maybe for your crow’s-feet on your left eye!” I mumbled a quick “Bye!” while grabbing my apartment keys from her hand. I locked the door behind her and scurried over to the bathroom to stare at my face in the mirror. Ugh. In plain sight, small wrinkles on the outside of my left eye, but not my right.
Signs of aging. Or stress. Or both.
Damn it.
Jane texted me as I went back to the kitchen for more wine. I’m definitely doing halter dresses. I have some arm weights you should borrow.
Did she mean to type “could borrow?”
No. No she didn’t.
Then it sank in. How did I end up Jane’s maid of honor?
Chapter Seven
Asher already had his EDM music blaring on his shitty, tinny computer speakers early the next morning. It didn’t matter when I arrived at the office, Asher always made it there first. With his goddamned Starbucks.
I cleared my throat and angrily tapped my laptop keys. “Hey, uh, the music? Do you mind? We’re at work, not a five A.M. spin class.”
I expected him to comment on that. Instead, he asked, “So what do you have on Ian?”
“What do you mean?”
“Look, it’s pretty obvious that you are grossly unqualified to produce video games. So that means you have something on Ian. Or maybe you two . . . you know.” He raised his eyebrows up and down.
I glared. “I know what you’re insinuating, and Ian and I do not have some kind of arrangement. I pitched a game to him and he liked it. It’s that simple.”
Ash-hole shot me a look of contempt. “I need some air. Your presence is suffocating.” He rushed out of the room, leaving a trail of his Asher dude smell in his wake.
A loud knock on the door made me jolt upright.
“Is this a bad time?” Nolan MacKenzie stepped into the room carrying a brown paper grocery bag with handles.
Pinching my brow, I asked, “Whyyyy are you here?” A deep, impatient sigh escaped me. Mr. Intern needed to leave ASAP because I had fifty unread emails labeled “urgent” and Asher would think Ian was playing favorites because I knew Nolan. “Don’t you have intern things to do?”