At this she set down her pen and folded her hands in her lap, her eyes never leaving my face. Her expression was clear, the crease had gone. She simply stared at me, waiting.
Out of habit, I mentally filled in her silence:Why do you think you are fixating on him, Rachel? Him, of all people? What sets him apart from the other men in your life? Christopher Butkus. What kind of person is he? What kind of man is he? How do you really feel about him?
“No.” I shook my head. “No, you’re wrong.”
She blinked.
“I don’t—I could never—”
She tilted her head, and the corner of her mouth lifted almost imperceptibly. There was no arguing with that.
“Okay, well, if I do… if Idohave feelings for Christopher Butkus, it will pass. Like a cold. I caught it somehow, and maybe I’ll never know how, but it will pass.”
“Rachel,” she said gently. I leaned in, eager for advice. “Our time is up for today.”
If I ignored the unsettling, Christopher Butkus–shaped elephant in the room—the room being my brain—life was good again. I’d unruined my sister’s life. The gang was back together now that I had repaired my friendship with Sumira. And we were mere days away from my favorite holiday after Halloween. (How can one not love a holiday centered on mashed potatoes and pie?)
Sumira had asked us all to come over to help her address thank-you cards for the gifts that had already started pouring in. We’d all immediately accepted, grateful for the excuse to see each other in person. With the holidays and Sumira’s wedding approaching, everyone was crazy busy.
Sumira’s already posh and sleek apartment looked extra minimalistic now, because it was half-packed, with boxes lined against the wall. She was planning to move in with Ajay right after the honeymoon.
“Ladies,” Sumira said. We were sitting at her kitchen table, sorting through stacks of envelopes and thank-you cards. “I actually asked you here for a reason. A reason other than licking stamps, I mean.”
She stood up and retrieved a basket from the living room. Itwas full of what appeared to be gift bags. Amy squealed before Sumira even uttered another word.
“Will you be my bridesmaids? I understand if you don’t want to, after everything that happened, but I—” Our deafening squeals cut her off.
“Of course!”
“Yes!”
“I thought you’d never ask!”
We tore open the gift bags to find delicate charm bracelets and little boxes of chocolate truffles.
“Sumira, this is the sweetest. You didn’t have to do this!”
“I did.” She sat down again and looked at all of us. “I’m really, really glad we’re okay. I wasn’t sure we would still be friends after… what I did.”
There was a pause. We’d all patched things up with Sumira in our own ways, but there was no denying that our friendships felt somehow changed. Like we weren’t 100 percent on the same page at all times. I guessed this was what growing up felt like, or something.
I tried to defuse the tension. “You can’t get rid of us that easily.”
Sumira flushed slightly but looked relieved. We turned our attention to the stamps and envelopes at hand.
“Oh, by the way,” Sumira said casually, “my cousin will reach out about rehearsal dates for the choreographed bridesmaid dance.”
“Excuse me?”
“Choreographedwhat?!”
I burst into laughter. “Well played, my friend, well played.”
“Don’t worry, guys, there are more gift bags where these came from.”
“Well, in that case, sign me up.” Eva took a gulp of wine.“I’ll embarrass myself in front of two hundred guests for some swag.”
After our laughter died down, we dived into general gossip. Not seeing each other weekly (and not messaging each other 24/7) meant that there was a lot to catch up on. After Eva filled us in on her plans to invite Jasmine to her family’s Thanksgiving and Sumira detailed her future mother-in-law’s over-the-top requests (such as her own personal videographer to follow her around for the entire wedding), Amy told us she had an announcement.
