Page 55 of Sister of the Bride

“Can we not talk about it?” I ask.

“Pippin’s still in denial,” Polly says to Mackenzie.

“I’m not in denial. I know it’s happening. I’m just choosing to ignore it for now, while I have eleventy billion other things to deal with. Nonna always says don’t borrow trouble.”

I can practically hear Polly’s eye roll. I drop my phone down on my bedside table and flop down onto my back, the mattress creaking beneath me.

“You’re tense. I thought the new girl seemed good,” Polly says.

“It’s not the new girl,” I mutter, then regret the utterance. I’m not in the mood for follow-up questions. But my sister has never been one to let a juicy secret lie.

“Then what is it?” Polly asks.

My phone vibrates with another incoming text.

Toby

I’m off Monday and Tuesday. That’s two days off. ***In a row*** Come over? Make a list of wedding tasks. We can knock SO much shit out.

“Arghughugh,” I groan.

“Ooooo, is it Toby? Did you two finally bone down?” Polly asks.

“No! God, no,” I say, but it’s too late. The image of Toby on top of me, pressing me into this narrow, squeaky mattress, is blooming in my mind. I can practically hear the headboard banging into the wall. And I like that thought way too much. The only way to distract myself from it, obviously, is to barf out every fragment of thought in my head, whether it makes sense or not. So that’s what I do.

“Please stop. We talked about this. You and I, I mean. And also Toby and I. Everyone talked, and everyone came to an agreement that the kiss was a mistake and we’re moving on. And then Toby starts changing the conversation with his sexy eyes and his not touching and mynippleswere hard, and he was looking! He was! And nowyou! Please don’t talk about boning Toby. I can’t take it. Ican’t. I don’t want Toby. Idon’t.”

There’s a solid fifteen seconds of silence, though the look Polly and Mackenzie exchange is awfully loud.

“Pippin,” Polly says, her voice gentle like she’s talking to a tantrumming child.

I take a deep breath and try to not freak out again.

“Okay, maybe Idowant him,” I say, trying to slip into logic mode. Problem solving mode. I’m good at this stuff usually. I can figure out how to stretch ingredients when a delivery is short. I can figure out how to Tetris all the reservations in when we’re overbooked. And dammit, I can figure out what the hell my feelings for Toby are. “But that doesn’t mean it’s a good idea. It’s like when I was nineteen and I wanted to get those John Mayer lyrics tattooed on me. You talked me out of it.”

“And I was right,” Polly says.

“Well, hooking up with Toby would be like getting the lyrics to ‘Your Body is a Wonderland’ tattooed on my forehead.”

“You know you can get tattoos lasered off,” Mackenzie says.

“Yeah, well, there’s no laser for undoing the damage of turning your best friend into your fuck buddy.”

Polly wings a pillow at me. Her aim is improving—it glances off my shoulder. “Who said anything about a fuck buddy? I still contend that you love him,” she says.

I sit straight up in bed and hit myself in the face with the pillow. “That’s worse! What, we start dating, and when everything goes to shit, I have to break up with him?”

Polly crosses her arms and levels me with a look. “What makes you think everything will go to shit?”

I’ve had this conversation before. I recognize that tree.

“Because it always does,” I say. “You’ve seen me in relationships.”

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe your relationships don’t work because whatever energy you have to give to a partner, you already give to Toby?” Mackenzie asks.

“Ooooo, that’s good, babe,” Polly says.

My mouth drops open, because this is new. Man, those Bryan women sure do know how to see through bullshit. “That’s not good! Because if it’s true, then not only can I not date Toby, I need to back off of myfriendshipwith Toby if I ever hope to have a functional relationship.”

---