I’d actually heard my mother state the latter of those options to her friends during book club. She used book club as a way of whoring me out to her friends’ eligible sons. It was annoying. The latest book club meeting was held a couple of weeks ago, and the big discussion was whom I would take to my best friend’s wedding. Thankfully, that night I’d agreed to go over there with my brother so we could watch the Clippers game with our dad, and I was able to intervene in the conversation as they handed around an iPhone opened up to the Facebook page of one of their son’s.
I’d never understood why people associated weddings with dates. Was it because they didn’t want to seem lame for not being in a steady relationship as they watched somebody they loved get married? I was secure enough on my own. I didn’t need a man’s presence to show me my worth, thank you very much. But as I handed my car keys over to the valet of the hotel where my best friend and most of my loved ones would be getting ready for her big day, a wisp of longing hit me, and I kind of wished I did have somebody to share this important event with.
“You did it!” Estelle said as soon as she saw me walk into the bridal suite. She stood quickly, practically sprinting toward me, long, loose strands of waves bouncing against the white robe she was wrapped in. I stood still as she touched the tips of my now short hair, waiting for her to tell me the truth: she hated it.
“I feel like I pulled a Britney,” I said with a groan, tugging on the ends as if the movement would make it grow back. I’d had long hair, Rapunzel-length hair, since I was a kid, and this drastic change was way out of character for me.
Estelle laughed, her big, bluish eyes shooting up to mine. “You’ve been talking about cutting your hair for months, and it’s not that short,” she said, while I tilted my head with raised eyebrows. “Okay, fine, it is that short, but you look great!”
“Thanks,” I said with a smile. “But enough about me. Are you ready to get married … again?”
She married our longtime friend, Oliver, the guy who’d owned her heart ever since I could remember, a few months back, but today they were having their formal celebration.
“I am!” she said, smiling. I was glad for the infectious giddiness that radiated off her. I knew the event would be a difficult one for me to get through, not because I wasn’t over the moon excited for my friends, but because all of our mutual friends would be there, and the one I’d been avoiding like the plague for the past five years was one of the groomsmen, and, in turn, walking with me.
Oliver’s sister, Sophie, joined us as we dressed and sipped on mimosas, laughing at our drunken bachelorette party adventure from a few weeks earlier. I slipped into the soft pink maid of honor dress and scrunched my dirty blonde hair before working on my mascara. From the corner of my eye, I caught movement and dropped the tube of nude lipstick I had in my hand with a gasp, turning to give Estelle my full attention as she walked out of the in-suite bathroom wearing her wedding dress. I’d seen it on her when we went wedding shopping, but seeing her in it now, with her hair and make up done, made it real.
“My best friend is getting married,” I whispered, smiling as tears pricked my eyes. Estelle laughed lightly, fanning her face with her hands.
“Don’t. You’re going to make me cry! I’ve been married for four months!” she said, but continued fighting tears nonetheless.
I gave her another once over and admired the way her dress hugged her body perfectly all the way down to her knees, where it fanned out.
“You picked out the most perfect dress. I could never pull that off,” I said, referring to the feathers that adorned the bottom half of her dress.
She smiled at me and walked up to the mirror, holding her veil in her hand. “My mom is supposed to put this on me,” she said.
“I’m sure they’ll be here soon. Sophie went to check on Sander and the baby,” I said. “You look incredible, Elle, and I’m not just saying that because it’s you. You really look unbelievable.”
She took a deep breath, smiling even brighter as her eyes met mine in the mirror. “Thank you. Thank you for everything,” she said, pausing to swallow and blink back tears. “Thank you for my beautiful pictures and just … everything. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be here right now.”
“You would be. This was inevitable,” I said, leaning in to wrap my arms around her, placing my chin on her shoulder. “But I am so fucking glad I get to share this day with you.” I squeezed her a little. “I think Bean is going to come in his pants when he sees you walking down the aisle,” I said, dropping my hands.