“The house is up on the left,” I say, pointing at Elsa May’s in-laws’ home. It’s the type of place you see in movies about really rich people in the suburbs. In fact, the kitchen was actually in a Diane Keaton movie back in the nineties. Thad was even an extra in the movie. If I ever had this house’s listing, I could live off the commission for a year. At least.

“I’m going to run up and ring the bell,” I say to the driver. “Can you wait here, please? Another person should be joining me,” I say.

I feel my heart race like I just ran a personal record in a 5K.

Yesterday, Thad emailed me “remember, no promises,” but I’m hoping for a miracle. This is my last-ditch effort. My apology. My grand gesture.

I pause before ringing the bell, then I press it. A grand ding-dong chimes. There’s the sound of commotion and the pitter-patter of little feet. Elsa May, wearing her Lululemon uniform, opens the door with Birdie perched on her hip.

“Lottie?” she asks. “What are you doing here?” She looks me up and down.

Birdie reaches out for me.

I look to Elsa May. She nods.

I take Birdie from Lottie and embrace her. I’ve missed her smell.

Elsa May takes in my little black dress. “You look good, Lottie. Have you been running?”

“The usual,” I say. I take a deep breath. “Hey, Elsa May, I emailed Thad and he said it was up to you . . . but how about one last bachelorette? The one you should’ve had, not that day at the spa one? I know I can’t make up for everything that happened between us, but this could be a start?”

Elsa May laughs. “Oh god, I thought we were done with those.” She runs her hands through Birdie’s angelic curls. She lowers her voice. “Especially after what happened.”

“But you didn’t get your turn. Besides, I think we have a lot of catching up to do.” I point at the town car. “Don’t worry, I have everything planned. This time I’m Elsa May, planner extraordinaire.”

“So I get to be Lottie?”

I shake my head. “No, don’t be her. Unless you’re going to be Fun Lottie. But even she’s a real work in progress.”

“I’m not sure,” Elsa May says. “Dateline is on tonight. Another love triangle gone bad.” From her tone, I can’t tell if she’s joking but I’m hoping she is.

“Mia and Jane agreed to go if you say yes.”

“You do have this all planned,” Elsa May says. Maybe I’m hopeful, but she sounds sort of impressed.

Birdie reaches her arms out to her mom, and I reluctantly hand her over.

I nod. “Thad’s so excited to spend the night with Birdie he even packed an overnight bag for you. It’s in the front closet.”

Elsa May puts her hands over Birdie’s ears like earmuffs and smiles genuinely. “I could use a night out,” she admits. And even though I know we have a lot to fix, I can tell by her smile that it’s going to be okay.

I give Birdie a giant kiss on her chubby cheek. “I’ll wait in the car,” I say.

Elsa May takes her auburn hair out of her ponytail. “I can’t believe you came all the way out here. You say that you only go to the suburbs for baptisms and funerals.”

I look at her seriously. “I also come for rebirths. And did I mention it was rush hour too. There’s champagne chilling in the car,” I whisper. “Hurry.”

* * *

Elsa May slides into the town car.

I hold up the bottle of bubbly. “But first can we talk?”

Elsa May juts out her bottom lip. “You’re withholding alcohol from a toddler’s mama at five p.m. on a Saturday night. It might not break any of your rules, but it violates about seven friend codes and possibly the Constitution. Depends on your interpretation.”

I nod. “At her own bachelorette party, no less.”

“Fine,” Elsa May says. “I’ll wait for the champers, but let’s not wait too long.”

I take a deep breath. “This can be short. But I need to say that I’m sorry. I’m so incredibly sorry. First, I’m sorry for ruining Jane’s night.”

Elsa May holds up her hand. “You didn’t ruin it. Didn’t Mia tell you about her getting freaky with her student? We were the show at the Boom Boom Room. That takes some serious gumption. It was awesome. People were looking at us like we’re interesting, not because I had spit-up on my shirt or because my toddler was throwing a tantrum in aisle three at Target.”

I sigh. “I still feel bad. I bailed and created my own drama.”

Elsa May bows. “You’re forgiven on that point.”

“And I’m most sorry that I didn’t listen to you,” I say. “I know that you did start the bachelorette parties for me, not you. I dug myself a pretty deep well with all my rules, and you were just trying to help me escape.”

Elsa May’s eyes fill with tears. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have interfered. I love you, Lottie, even the Not-Fun Lottie.”

I hand her a Kleenex. “No. You had a real point, and I wouldn’t listen. If you can’t hear what your best friend is saying, who will you listen to? That’s really bad, right? I don’t want to be that type of person.”

“Apology accepted,” Elsa May says, wiping at her running mascara. “Now let me say something, but first let me blow my nose.”

She blows her nose like it’s a train whistle. “I swear. Babies are just walking petri dishes of bacteria and germs. I’m always sick now.”

She pours Purell on her hands, rubs them, and then puts her hands over mine. “I’m sorry too. I’m sorry I got carried away with the bachelorette thing. I got tunnel vision.” She pauses. “I’m also sorry I didn’t come to you first,” she says. “But I needed time to think. About what you said. And what I said too.”

I nod. “I understand.” I squeeze her hand. “I think the whole time I understood we both needed our time.”

“Agreed, but let’s never do it again.” Elsa May leans in close. “I haven’t told anyone except for Thad but I’ve been interviewing for a job to be an assistant to an event planner.” She crosses her fingers. “It would be only part-time and I don’t want to jinx it, but I think I would enjoy it.”

And even though I never imagined Elsa May as anything but a lawyer, I can actually see it. And it seems to make her a lot happier than discussing law. Besides, if she can throw together three faux bachelorettes in a month, she can certainly put on a party in the burbs. “That’s awesome,” I say sincerely. I guess I’m not the only one who’s a work in progress.

Elsa May looks at me. “Now, there’s only one thing left.”

I shrug. “What’s that?”

She grabs the bottle of champagne. “Let’s pop this baby. Like you said, it’s my bachelorette party, after all.”

* * *

After meeting up with Mia and Jane at their apartment, I hand Elsa May an envelope. “The Amazing Bachelorette” it reads in the same font used by The Amazing Race show.

Her mouth drops. “You turned my favorite show into a bachelorette party,” Elsa May says. “Color me impressed.”

Mia looks over my crafty attempt. “Hey, I thought Dateline was your favorite show.”

Elsa May smiles. “Second favorite. The Amazing Race has always been my number one favorite. I still contend that Lottie and I could have won the whole thing,” she says to me. “We’re the perfect combination.”

“We can always audition in ten years,” I say, happy that Elsa May and I are slipping back into our best-friend shoes and that they still fit.

Elsa May sticks out her tongue. “We’ll be cast as the old ladies.” She bats her hand. “Oh well. At least, we’d be the hot old ladies.”

“I’ll let you open the first clue to the amazing bachelorette race, but not until you fill out the worksheet. Fake bachelorettes have rules, after all.”

I hand Elsa May the piece of paper.

She looks at it. “I’ll do this on one condition,” she says. “This is the other me that’s filling this out. The one who took the bar exam. The one who doesn’t have a baby.”

Mia flips her magenta hair and looks at Elsa May. “Of course,” she says. “This is for the alternate Elsa May, the one who picked the other door. But we all know you picked the right one.”

Elsa May nods. “I did, but tonight is still going to be epic.”

I don’t even cringe when she says it. Okay, only a little bit.

I hope that by the end of the night, I’m as confident as Elsa May that I picked the right door. Lord knows, I’ve spent a long time convincing myself I was. Maybe this time I actually will be.

I hand Elsa May a pen.

When Elsa May finishes writing, we all read over the worksheet together.

DISCLAIMER: This is for Elsa May’s alternative life. She’s very happy with Thad and Birdie, and she’s just playing along.

SIDENOTE: This sheet must be burned.

Elsa May’s Dream Man:

He’s NOT a lawyer. He thinks “tort” is a sweet confectionary dessert. He does not want to talk law in his free time. In fact, he’s broken the law many times and doesn’t believe in law in general. Of course, this all changed when he met me.

He went from bad boy to doting boyfriend. What can we say: opposites attract.

He charms everyone at my law firm’s Christmas parties. He gets off work early most nights and does the laundry and cooks me dinner.

He can see himself as a stay-at-home dad. He totally supports my dream.

How We Met:

I gave him free legal advice after meeting serendipitously one night at a bar I normally would never go to.

Dream Wedding:

I will be in the best shape of my entire life. And not pregnant. I will wear one of those dresses that people think are borderline inappropriate for a bride. It will be tight and white, and my Southern mother will cringe. My Southern relatives will scream from their graves. Bless their hearts.

We will invite everyone and it will be a get down complete with a bourbon bar, shrimp ’n’ grits, and a whole lot of seersucker. My Yankee, bad-boy fiancé will oblige. We will take a year off and honeymoon across the globe before I get right back onto the partner track. Hey, I’m better at this fantasy stuff than I thought.

“It’s perfect,” I say as I pull a card from an envelope. “Now for your first clue: ‘This lady knows how to keep her mouth shut. Come try on her favorite things. They’d be perfect for the honeymoon. Bonus points for pictures.’ ”

Jane snaps her fingers. “I know. Victoria’s Secret.”

Mia high-fives her. “Nice.”

“Not that I support them or anything,” Jane says. “Talk about bad role models.”

We all laugh.

Elsa May admires the clue. “You came up with this all?” she asks.

I nod. “Let’s go, but first—you’re forgetting one thing,” I say, placing the bachelorette crown on her head.

Elsa May reaches up and fingers the rhinestones. “I’ve never felt so beautiful. Now, let’s get going. The clock is ticking.”

* * *

“We are a total sight, even in New York City, the land of sights,” I say. Our shoes and clothes are covered with a layer of Manhattan dirt and grime.

“I can smell the champagne I spilled all over that bar,” I say.

Mia laughs. “What’s a bachelorette party without a party foul?”

Even I have to agree.

“I loved it all,” Elsa May says. “This is even more fun than the actual Amazing Race show. Now, Lottie, what’s our next clue?”

“This one is for the real you, not the lawyer engaged to the bad boy,” I say, pulling out the next envelope.

Elsa May smiles as she tears it open and reads. “ ‘The view here is always the Mediterranean winter sky with over 2,500 stars.’ ”

Mia and Jane look at each other. “The planetarium?” Jane asks. She’s a better actress than I thought and everything is going as I planned.

Elsa May looks at me knowingly. “I got this one,” she says, holding up her hand and hailing the closest cab. She jumps in the front and we all get in the back. “Grand Central Terminal Station, please.”

When we reach our destination, Elsa May ushers us all in. We weave through groups of commuters and tourists. When she arrives at the main concourse, she points up at the grand ceiling, “That it! It’s the zodiac,” she says, pointing at the gorgeous mural. “Lottie always said that she didn’t even miss the stars living in the city because if she did, she could always come here.”

I nod. “Great work,” I say. “I name you the champion Amazing Bachelorette. Now we’re off to the final bar to end this party.”

On cue, Mia and Jane both ask, “Bathroom first?”

“I have to go too, Elsa May,” I say, trying to buy time. “I think we’re all in need of disco coffees. Can you grab us some while we’re in the bathroom? There’s a great place over there,” I say, gesturing across the station.

“Sure,” she says. “Coffee sounds good.”

Near the bathroom entrance, like I had planned, Thad is waiting in a tux. “Here you go, fairy godmothers,” he says, passing me a garment bag.

The three of us huddle in the bathroom and I unzip the bag to reveal three $295 Vera Wang bridesmaid’s dresses. They’re mauve, which is probably no one’s color and it’s definitely not mine. But I know that it is the exact dress and color shade that Elsa May wanted for her bridesmaids.

I’m hoping it’s worth the investment. When you tack on the cost of Mia’s and Jane’s matching dresses, which I also paid for, these dresses cost me almost a grand. I might actually have to wear mine again.

But compared to what I’ve gained from these bachelorette parties, it’s a small price to pay.

We all transform from bachelorettes into bridesmaids.

“We clean up well,” Jane says, admiring our reflection in the streaked mirror. After we leave the bathroom, a few tourists ask to take our pictures and we oblige.

“Okay,” I say, taking a deep breath. “Let’s do this.”

Mia grabs my arm. “This is super sweet,” she says. “And I thought you weren’t a romantic.”

I shrug. “Maybe I’m changing.”

We meet back up with Thad after stopping to pick up our preordered bouquets at Dahlia Flowers and cupcakes at Magnolia Bakery.

I pass a bunch of hand-tied pink tea roses—I got the inspiration from a picture on Elsa May’s secret Pinterest “wedding” page—to each of the bridesmaids.

By the time we reach Elsa May, we are a sight. Three bridesmaids carrying bouquets and cupcakes, accompanied by a handsome groom wearing a rose boutonniere.

Elsa May holds her hand over her mouth in shock like one of those lottery winners on TV.

“Happy faux wedding,” I say, as I pass her a cascading bouquet of fragrant white roses.

Elsa May squeals.

“You didn’t,” she says looking at me. “How did you know?” she asks, checking out our dresses.

“I found your Pinterest page,” I say. “I saw the pin and I remembered how you loved these bridesmaid’s dresses. And since every other photo was a bride and groom at Grand Central, I knew this was your dream place for wedding photos.”

“You’re right,” Elsa May says, looking around. “I’ve always thought it was the perfect place for wedding photos,” she says. “So symbolic. At the station in the center of the world. A couple setting off on a journey.”

I smile at her description.

She fingers my dress. “You look as beautiful as I thought you would in this dress.”

I hold up a garment bag. “Another surprise: Thad brought your wedding dress,” I say. “Go change. A photographer is meeting us in five minutes to take those pictures you never got.”

Elsa May leans back and laughs. “Wow, Lottie,” she says. “Who are you? But one thing: Where’s Birdie, Thad?”

“With my parents. Sound asleep,” Thad answers.

“Perfect,” Elsa May says.

After a zillion photos with the crystal chandeliers, marble staircase, and ticket booths, we are all exhausted and sit on a bench to eat cupcakes. Inside the box, there’s an envelope.

“Another clue?” Elsa May says, reaching in and opening the card. “Stop, there can’t be more,” she says, her eyes teary. “ ‘Let’s go back to where it all started, back when you and Thad were first-years,’ ” she reads aloud.

“McDonnell’s Tavern!” Elsa May shrieks.

I nod. “The very one.” McDonnell’s Tavern is NYU law school students’ favorite bar—and it’s also where she and Thad met.

She throws her arms around me. “This is all so sweet and personal.” She pauses. “It’s one of the best nights ever.”

“Let’s go,” I say. “But first, let’s eat these cupcakes,” I say, pointing at the white-and-gold-frosted ones.

As we’re getting ready to leave, the photographer points up at the iconic four-sided, opal-faced clock that’s rumored to be worth millions. Both hands are nearly at the twelve.

“Want your Cinderella shot?” he asks. “The timing is perfect. Nearly midnight.”

Elsa May and Thad dash to the clock and the photographer gets the photo just at the stroke of midnight.

And unlike in the fairy tale, no one loses a shoe, turns into a pumpkin, or has to race home to some other less fabulous life. We continue on into the New York night to our final stop.

* * *

Thad picks Elsa May up and carries her over the door into McDonnell’s.

“I love this,” she says.

I shake my head. “This isn’t all. Let’s go to the back room.”

We maneuver through the rowdy crowd in the front bar. Once we reach the back room, a chorus yells out “Surprise!” A small group of Thad and Elsa May’s friends jump out from behind tables and chairs. They have been waiting to join the fun. Some are from college, others law school, and a few from their life in the burbs.

“I figured that if you’re in the city, why not make a big night of it? Plus, your friends never got to officially celebrate your wedding with you.” I use my loudest voice to shout over the nineties music. “Everyone, welcome to Elsa May’s bachelorette party slash wedding celebration.”

The whole group shouts and toasts. There are no speeches, because I know that Elsa May is against those. But every time I look around she’s blushing—like a bride.

Once Thad and Elsa May have made their rounds, Elsa May works her way back to me. “Thank you,” she says. “This is the greatest, and only you could’ve planned it. It takes a best friend to do this,” she says.

“You did the same for me,” I say.

She points across the room. “That’s Andrew,” she says. “Thad says he’s single now, and talk about a total catch. Want me to introduce you? I always wanted a couple to fall in love at my wedding.”

I shake my head.

Elsa May stomps her foot. “What happened to Fun Lottie?” She dramatically looks over her shoulder. “She was here just a second ago.”

“She’s getting another drink at the bar,” I joke. Then I lean in close. “The real reason I don’t want to meet Andrew is that there’s this other situation,” I say.

She puts her hand on her hip. “Is this another rule? A new one? One I don’t even know about?”

I laugh and even smile. “No, no. I’m not adding any more rules. But there’s something I need to see about first.”

“You’re going to tell me all about this over brunch tomorrow,” she says. “I’m holding you to that. But can we dance now?” She points me toward the dance floor. “I always imagined taking over the dance floor with you at my wedding, just like our late-night dorm parties. We both know that Thad isn’t known for his moves.”

We look over to Thad, who’s awkwardly bopping his head to his own beat. No guy is perfect, after all. Or maybe that’s what makes people perfect—their flaws.

It’s way past my bedtime and I’m wearing a stained, mauve bridesmaid’s dress, but I let Elsa May twirl me onto the floor anyway. It’s her bachelorette party—or wedding or whatever this is—after all.

I always thought it was staying inside the lines that got you where you needed to be, but maybe that’s the wrong idea. Maybe everything good is found only when you color outside the lines.