---

It’s the day of the wedding, and I’m right in the thick of it. Everything’s crazy, but in the hushed, well-heeled way that only weddings can be.

I’m upstairs at the hotel, in the suite of rooms reserved for the bride to get ready, getting my makeup and hair finished by two aestheticians. One lady sweeps a bit of blush on my cheeks. The other lady puts a final pin in my hair, backing away to stare at me as she, considers her work.

It’s nearly 6 p.m., and I’m the last one of the girls to be made up. I squirm in my seat. The ladies wouldn’t let me look while they were doing my hair and makeup. They said I would just fuss the whole time. They’re probably right. I’m not used to being pampered like this.

“Okay,” the hair stylist says. “I’m done.”

“Me too,” the makeup artist says, setting her brushes to the side and backing away. “You can go look now.”

I’m a bundle of nerves as I walk to the bathroom. I look in the mirror; a dewier, much more polished version of myself looks back at me. My hair is braided and pinned up. My makeup is a little more extravagant than I usually go with.

Still, it’s nice to look pretty. And I do feel pretty. I fidget with my dress, which is ocean blue silk with triangular side cutouts. I twirl a bit feeling giddy, and smile at the way the floor-length gown moves.

It’s a gorgeous dress. I didn’t bring much to this wedding, but at least I look nice.

“Grace!” Ellie calls.

I turn as she comes in and stops to look at me.

“You look really nice,” she says with a smile.

“Thanks,” I answer while tugging at the fabric, the nerves coming back again. “You do, too. Love your dress,” I say, half pointing to her dress. I hope I’m not coming off awkward. At least not as awkward as I feel.

I feel like I’m betraying his family, being a fraud and taking part in this moment. But I also feel sick knowing once tonight is done, the charade is over. I think Charlie would let it continue a while. But I can’t keep doing this, pretending like this is okay. It’s not just fun for me. Not anymore. And I’m only going to end up hurt.

“The bridesmaids are all meeting downstairs for pre-wedding toasts.”

“Oh! Okay. Let me get my boots, and I’ll be right down,” I say.

She nods, heading out of the room. I make sure to thank the makeup artist and hair stylist, then hunt for my boots which are our wedding gift from Ali.

I check the shoe rack in the closet. They’re the only pair left. I’m careful sitting down on the bed not to mess my dress up so I can pull the boots on. The leather is fresh; the boots still brand new.

Who’d have guessed that the shine on my boots would last longer than my relationship with Charlie?

Anyone with eyes could’ve seen that coming, I tell myself. My throat feels tight as I stand up and hightail it downstairs. I exit the elevator, picking up my dress as I search for the girls, making my way to the hotel lobby. I pass the ballroom, where the reception will take place. After checking a couple of empty rooms, I find the girls drinking from a silver flask in what seems to be a coat closet.

“Hey!” Sam says, eyes twinkling. “We were just warming up.”

“I see that,” I say, smiling. “Is it my turn?”

Lindsay hands the flask to me, and I take a swig. I wince; it’s bourbon.

“Wow. Strong,” I wheeze.

I pass the flask on to Ali. She looks at it, considering, then shakes her head. “No more for me. I want to be clearheaded.”

“You think the guys are drinking?” Ellie asks.

“The groomsmen definitely are. I saw Chris sneaking a whole bottle of whiskey into their suite earlier,” Sam says.

“I swear, Michael had better not be falling down drunk,” Ali frets, smoothing her hands over her dress.

“Charlie won’t let him drink too much,” I say.

I’m mostly assuaging Ali’s fears; I have no idea what Charlie will or won’t do. Otherwise I would’ve seen that this whole wedding thing was a bad, bad idea.

“Ladies?” the wedding planner asks, poking his head in. “The guests are all seated out on the terrace. They’re ready for you all to line up now.”

“Oh God,” Ali says, gripping Lindsay’s hand. “Oh God.”

Lindsay takes the flask out of her hand, then gives her a mini pep talk, getting down on her knees in front of Ali.

“You are ready,” she says in a hushed voice. “All you have to do is walk down that aisle, and Michael will be there waiting. That’s it.”

Ali nods at Lindsay, and I can feel the emotion rolling off of her. Her anxiety and nerves are contagious as I look into her eyes. After a moment she whispers, “All right. Let’s go.”