Screw the mandatory meeting. I leave early. The apartment is mine for another three months but it doesn't feel like home anymore.

I find a suitcase in the corner and start packing a bag for the weekend. The wedding is Sunday afternoon, and I won't have a moment of breathing room until it's over. It's good being busy. Better seeing Kat so happy.

My bridesmaid dress is in her closet. I find my shoes and my purse and toss them into a pile on my bed. I need something for the bachelorette party. A black cocktail dress and matching heels should do the trick. I need something to sleep in. Something for our spa day.

And something to wear under my clothes. I dread opening that particular drawer. There's no resisting the flood of memories as I paw through the lingerie Nick bought me.

You would be my priority, Lizzy. My first priority.

The memory of his voice nearly undoes me. But he didn't say he loved me.

He's good at getting what he wants. If he really loved me, he would have said it.

I find something practical and zip my suitcase.

It's still early. Kat must be home. Her last midterm was Wednesday, and she's technically on spring break. Lucky her, the school's schedule lined up perfectly with her ideal wedding date.

It's possible that she and Blake are currently having crazy sex in the living room. I can't bring myself to potentially cramp their style.

I find a paper notebook and a pen on my desk. I have a maid of honor speech to write and no time to waste.

For two hours, I stare at the neat lined paper. For two hours, nothing comes. I'm so happy for my sister, for this wedding, for everything it means, but I can't manage to string my thoughts together.

* * *

Saturday is devoted to the finishing touches of beauty. We spend hours at a spa—on Blake's dime, of course.

It's too awkward to be relaxing, but I do my best to keep Kat's attention on anything but the wedding.

With every passing hour, her nerves shoot into overdrive. She is a thorn in the side of every masseuse and esthetician.

She's always worn her heart on her sleeve, but this is a whole new level of emotional honesty.

We finish with just enough time to get to the rehearsal dinner. All those nerves fade away the moment we arrive. Well, the moment her eyes lock with Blake's. They're both so happy. It's plain as day. Our parents were like that, all gooey in love, ecstatic just for the chance to be together.

A warmth spreads through me. The lingering hurt over Nick fades away, and I'm confident it will stay away for the next twenty-four hours.

They're so in love they radiate positive energy. It's infectious enough that the food tastes better, the air smells sweeter.

Dinner is small. It's me, Kat, Blake, and Blake's sister Fiona. She was a certified super-bitch when we met, but she's come around. We're actually friendly. And she seems to like Kat. A lot.

She's happier without her ex-husband around.

She's even dating... as far as I can tell. She doesn't exactly hang out to chitchat.

She and I take turns embarrassing our respective siblings. There are no speeches, no toasts, just the awe of seeing two people so totally perfect for each other.

It's overwhelming. I back off after Fiona picks up the tab—technically, she is the groom's family—to give them space.

It's a private moment, Kat and Blake staring into each other's eyes, whispering softly. I force myself to look away, but my gaze keeps going back to them. It's still such a wonderful sight—my sister so happy. I never thought she'd have that again.

I never thought either one of us would do anything but struggle.

I stare at my phone to keep myself occupied. There are a few confirmation emails about the bachelorette party.

And there's a text message from Nick.

Nick: Are you giving a speech tomorrow?

Not exactly a declaration of love, but it is sweet.

I reply.

Lizzy: A big one. Haven't started yet.

Nick: You have sixteen hours.

Lizzy: Give or take. Luckily, I'm terrible with words.

Nick: You have enough charm to make up for it.

Lizzy: Are you trying to make me blush?

Nick: No. I don't want to distract you, but I'd regret not wishing you good luck.

Lizzy: Thanks.

Nick: I'm sure that whatever you write will be beautiful.

* * *

We meet her friends, plus Sarah, at an all-male strip club at nine o'clock. Kat and her friends take the front entrance. Sarah leads me around back, to the stage entrance. I don't bother wondering how she knows her way around this place. It's Sarah. It has to be sex.

The place is surprisingly clean. The furniture is red velvet, the walls are mirrors, and the black stage is lined with little yellow lights.

Our table is plenty big for the six of us. Kat has three friends from school with her. They all seem nice.

A waiter clad in only a bowtie and a pair of black-and-white briefs stops at our table. He kneels in front of Kat like he's about to propose.

"Are you the bride to be?" He smiles.

She blushes. "Oh my God, Lizzy. Remind me to kill you after the honeymoon." She turns to the buff man, her expression polite but not at all interested. "I am."

"This is for you." He pulls a "Bride" sash from a hook on the wall and drapes it over her shoulders. "And what are you drinking on your last night of freedom?"

"Gin and tonic."

He nods to note her order then goes around the group. Each of us gets a flirty smile and a word of encouragement.

The man is good at his job. He's cute—green eyes, brown hair, huge muscles—but my body is entirely apathetic to his hand on my wrist.

When our drinks arrive, Sarah busts out her offering to the festivities—penis-shaped straws. Kat turns as red as a tomato but makes no objections.

"Why do you think all this bachelorette shit is cock-shaped?" Sarah pulls a massive penis-shaped lollipop from her purse and hands it to Kat.

"Thanks." Kat passes it to one of her friends. "I have plenty."

"It's to remind you that you're stuck with one dick for the rest of your life." Kat's redheaded friend giggles.

"Do you worry about it, Kat? Only one guy for your whole life. Won't that get boring?" Kat's black-haired friend asks.

"Nope." Kat downs her gin and tonic in one long sip. "He's perfect."

"Him or his—" Her black-haired friend waves the penis lollipop.

"The whole package." She laughs. "Oh, fuck. I didn't mean it like that."

The lights dim. A smoke machine kicks on, filling the room with haze. Music starts.

And then there are four men on stage in Western jeans and cowboy hats, grinding and thrusting to the beat. Kat covers her face with her hands, barely peeking.

"I can't believe you talked me into this," she says.

"You love it." I knock back my rum and diet.

She giggles. Her hands stay over her eyes.

The show is more cheeky than it is sexy. The men do a coordinated routine then strip to their underwear. They strike a pose as the music ends. A moment later, they're back on stage with a new routine, stripping off a new set of clothes.

Our waiter is incredibly attentive. I make an effort to pace myself, and I'm still three drinks deep by the time the dancers break. I excuse myself to the bathroom to pee and check my phone for texts from Nick. There's nothing, of course. He was clear enough.

You could be a priority. My first priority.

I stare at my phone, my thumbs hovering over the keyboard. I can't say this in a text. And I can't say it right now.

On my way back to the table, I run right into my sister. She slides her arm around me, smiling wide and slurring her words.

"Lizzy. You're such a hard-ass sometimes, but you don't fool me for a second. Not even one second." She wavers. "You are being so fucking stupid right now."

"How many drinks have you had?"

"Too many." She looks me in the eyes. "You're not fooling me for shit. I know you're in love with Nick."

"Do you?"

"That's right. And I know... I know that you still believe there's a chance."

"You've veered into drunk, sweetie."

She shrugs.

I check the time. A little after ten. The hair and makeup person will be in the apartment in twelve hours.

In theory, it's plenty of time. But I'm not risking it with Kat this tipsy.

"Okay. Time to go home. You want to say 'bye to your friends?" I ask.

"No. I want to talk to you."

"Let me pay, darling."

I drag Kat back to the table and settle the check. It takes a while to get through the goodbyes. Everyone wants to hug the bride to be. We're not safely in a cab until nearly eleven.

"You're really stubborn. You know that?" she asks.

"You're really drunk." I give our address to the cabbie and turn my attention back to Kat. "You nervous?"

"Really nervous." She plays with her seat belt. "It's crazy how much everything costs, how big a deal it is for this thirty-minute ceremony. And then you're married and that's so real."

"Blake loves you a lot."

She smiles. "It's really nice, you know, when you find that person."

I nod.

"And if you do... you have to hold on and never let go. Okay, Lizzy?"

"But you left him. Last year, you left him. You loved him, but you left him."

She looks out the windows as we breeze through Times Square. Her eyes are wide. Her face is filled with wonder.

She's not drunk. She's just Kat.

"I couldn't be with him unless he loved me back," she says.

I nod. "What if he'd said no?"

"It would have hurt, but it felt good to say those words. I had to do it. No matter what happened after."

I settle into my seat, watching the city whiz by.

The drive passes quickly. In minutes, we're at the penthouse apartment. I pay the cabbie and help Kat to the curb.

It doesn't occur to me until we're in the penthouse elevator. I was in a car without batting an eyelash. It didn't worry me at all.

Some of it must be my focus on the wedding. But the rest I owe to Nick.

In the apartment, I force Kat to drink half a gallon of water, eat a snack, wash off her makeup, brush her teeth, and get promptly to bed.

The living room is mine. I pull out the empty notebook and I channel all the feelings whirring around inside me.

And I write until my hand goes numb.