“And anyway,” I say with a wince. “Some other woman hit on Nick today and he was totally into it, so whatever. I don’t exactly think he’s pining away for me.”
“He was into it?” Skepticism drips from her voice. “Really?”
“Can we not talk about this anymore?”
“Okay, okay, okay,” Annie says, because this is also part of the best friend contract. Even when you’re annoyingly, persistently, obliviously fixated on something, you have to drop it if the other person says so. I mean, I knew Annie and Drew were shooting heart-eyes at each other way before they got together, but when she was all “mad” at him because they had a rom-com-worthy misunderstanding, I kept quiet. It’s the law.
“How’s wedding stuff going?” I ask, because there’s no better way to change the subject than by asking an engaged woman about her wedding.
She exhales so loudly that I have to hold the phone away from my ear. “It’s fine. It’s . . . fine.”
“Huh. You’re saying ‘fine’ the way a beleaguered wife in a sitcom says it, right before she starts a hilarious argument about her husband’s ineptitude.”
“What?”
“I’m saying there are a lot of layers in your ‘fine,’ and none of them sound good.” I sit down on my bed.
“Oh. Well, you know I’m excited about the actual ‘getting married to Drew’ part.”
“I’ve noticed it once or twice.”
“But it turns out a wedding isn’t about how much you love your partner. It’s about flowers. And table decorations. And tasting a lot of cakes.”
“Okay, first off, congrats on being the only person to ever complain about cake tastings. And secondly, I told you I’d make your cake!”
“Chloe! I’m not making you do all the maid of honor duties plus deal with decorating a massive cake the night before the wedding.”
“I’m offended,” I say, examining my cuticles.
“Plus, you know cake isn’t even my favorite thing.”
I remain silent.
“Frosting. Ugh. What’s the point?”
I take a few deep breaths to steady myself. “I’m going to ignore the terrible things you said about cake and give you a proposition: what if you had a noncake wedding dessert?”
“You can do that?” Annie asks with wonder in her voice.
“Again, woman, get thyself on Pinterest. How are you even planning a wedding without a board dedicated to desserts?”
“So you’re saying I could have . . . pie?”
I direct a silent prayer of thanks toward the ceiling. “Yes, Annie. You can have pie. And you know who makes a mean pie?”
“I would never ask you to do all that work right before the wedding—”
“Honestly, I would consider ending our friendship if you went anywhere else for the pie.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. Pie dough can be made and frozen ahead of time, and lots of whole pies can even be frozen. I’ll get started this week. Tonight! As soon as we end this phone call! You tell me five to seven pie varieties you’d like and I’ll get to work.”
“Can you pick the pies?”
Now it really feels like this is too good to be true. Not only do I get to make the dessert for my best friend’s wedding, but I get to decide what it is? “Um . . . don’t you want to tell me your favorites?”
“I think I’m suffering from decision fatigue. Between picking out centerpieces and choosing my dress, I can barely expend the energy to figure out what I’m gonna eat for dinner. I swear, I snapped at Uncle Don the other day because he asked me if he should wear a Star Wars or Star Trek tie to the ceremony.”
I laugh. “That sounds like Don.”
“To be fair, it was the third time he’d asked me.”
“Well, it’s a big decision.”
“You choose the pies, okay? I trust you, in all matters but especially in those of pie.”
I put my hand on my chest, even though Annie can’t see me. “I’m touched.”
“I figure it’s the least I can do, since I’m not even going to offer up a cute groomsperson for you to hook up with.”
Since Annie and Drew are keeping their wedding relatively small, they each only have one attendant. Annie has me, duh, and Drew has his fourteen-year-old brother, Louis.
“I told him you said, and I quote, ‘Drew should forget about his teenage brother and choose a celebrity,’ but he kept talking about how ‘family is important,’ and ‘I’ve never even met Tessa Thompson so I can’t ask her to be my groomswoman.’”