“You’re beautiful,” Amelia says wetly. “The prettiest bride I’ve ever seen.”
“Are you sure you don’t want any lace or tulle?” Liam asks, circling her. His eyes narrow at her unadorned waistline.
“No lace,” several voices ring out. Ruby issonot a lace person.
Liam’s face goes void—his usual expression—and he returns to his seat. Amber watches him, amusement dancing across herhazelnut eyes.
Two previously invisible dress people come forward to discuss price and alterations with Ruby, so I beeline for my soon-to-be-refilled flute. No stressy money speak today, thank you very much. Today, my worries float away on monarch wings the color of sweet champagne and future headaches.
“Can I ask you a question?” Frank asks, following me to the refreshments.
“Of course!” I answer, tipping ambrosia into my glass. I follow it with a dash of orange juice, to make Ruby proud. “What’s up?”
“Not that I’m judging, because I’m not, but… you don’t really seem like the type of gal to get drunk in the middle of the day. You givedrunk-on-lifeenergy, notliterally drunk, if you know what I mean?”
Ah. “I know what you mean.” I nod. Frank is so sage. So observant. So smart.
“Do you mind me askingwhyyou’ve gone the route of literally drunk today? Again, I’m not judging. I love me a day-drunk white girl. However, it does raise a worry or two.”
My nose scrunches. “No worries!” I command. “This is a worry free day! Zero worries allowed! That’s what the champagne is for. Here, have some!” I hold the bottle out to her, wiggling it enticingly.
She shrugs. “Don’t mind if I do.” Then, she pours a reasonable amount into a flute, tops it with enough orange juice that I wonder if perhaps she actually knows how to mix a mimosa, something I do not. “Is that it, then?” she asks. “Chasing your worries away with alcohol?”
I mean… “Maybe?”
She hums, head tilting as she considers me. “What else have you tried?”
My brows furrow.
“Besides alcohol,” she clarifies. “To destress. What have you done?”
Oh. Uh. Well. “I’m going on a road trip soon?” I offer.
“That’s a future attempt,” she says. “I’m asking what you’ve tried previously.”
Right. Right, right, right. That thing that people do. Where they try to fix their problems instead of drowning them in fancy rich people champagne.
“Nothing!” I declare, beaming. “I’m really stupid, so I choose to let things pile higher and higher untilboom, they collapse on top of me, crushing my lungs and ruining my quality of life and, oh, by the way, I can’t let anyone know that I’m beingliterally squished to deathbecause I’m already kind of a lot to deal with and what if beinga lotplus beingliterally squished to deathis just too much and then everyone I love leaves me and my gravestone reads, ‘Here lies Elodie. She was a lot.’ at my empty funeral?” I pull out my sunshiniest smile. “You know?”
“Child,” she says, blinking at me behind her round glasses. “What kind of nonsense was that?”
My eyes widen. “Nonsense?”
Her eyes narrow. “I will bop you right on your cute little nose. Are you crazy?”
My eyes widen more. “Crazy?”
“What is a friend if not someone who will lift the things that crush you? What is a friend there for if not to help you breathe a little easier?” She tsks. “You’re out here gettingliterally squished to death, except you haven’t looked up ‘literally’ in the dictionary ever, and you think your friends would see that and turn away from you? When your friends are Ruby and Will? That boy has more dedication to the people he loves than most men will ever even think about having, and Ruby put up with him even when he was being an annoying pest twenty-four-seven. You think those two are going to throw you to the wolveswith your sad little gravestone?” She scoffs. “Yeah, right. You’re freaking nuts.”
Uh. “Well… when you put it like that…” I hiccup.
“Give me that drink,” she says, snatching my flute out of my hands.
I whimper.
“No,” she snaps. “Day drunk isn’t cute when it’s sad. We’re going to sober you up, rally the troops, and make a plan to fix all this crushing going on.”
My head whips back and forth so violently that it incites a wave of nausea in my stomach. “Please don’t tell Ruby,” I beg. “She’s got the wedding and the learning how to live with Will and the being the best person to ever exist stuff going on. I don’t want her to worry about me, too.”
