Page 75 of Sister of the Bride

Pizza

Where are you??? The DJ called. He has the flu!

Shit. Well, it’s not a wedding unless at least one thing goes wrong, and I’ll take this over pouring rain. But this means my shower is going to have to wait, because I need to get back home and get this show on the road. There are brides to dress and fires to put out. So I fire off a text letting Polly know I’m on my way, then pull my sleep shorts and T-shirt back on, stealing one of Toby’s sweatshirts instead of donning my ridiculous robe. I also rummage in his closet and find an old pair of flip-flops, and though they’re about six sizes too big, they’re a marked improvement over those torturous heels. I tap out a quick text to Toby as I head for the door.

Pippin

Wedding emergency, rain check on breakfast! Maybe tomorrow morning after you bring me home from the wedding tonight?

I’m nearly outside before I remember that I left Polly’s shoes at the end of Toby’s bed, where he put them after taking them off me last night. I turn and hurry back, dropping down to fasten the straps and then looping them over my fingers so I can carry them without dinging them up. Then I head out, letting Toby’s front door swing shut behind me.

I walk as fast I can in Toby’s giant shoes, tripping occasionally over the cobblestones but managing to stay on my feet. As I head for home, I formulate a plan for the missing DJ. We can easily put together a patchwork of Spotify playlists and make Frantz our substitute DJ; he’ll want nothing more than to spin his favorite records at his daughter’s wedding. He’ll also make a stellar emcee, announcing the dances and the cake cutting. Hell, I wouldn’t be shocked if Frantz got the DJ sick himself so he could take over the job.

“Pippin! Hi!”

I blink myself back to the present to see Jen, Toby’s ex-girlfriend, smiling at me from the sidewalk outside the dry cleaner. I must stare at her for a beat too long, trying to figure out if I’m hallucinating her in my underslept oversexed state, because she smiles wider and points at herself. “It’s Jen McKinley? Toby’s…uh, well…I was—”

“Of course,” I say, partly because I recognize her and partly becauseof courseI would run into Toby’s ex-girlfriend the morning after I slept with him. Of course I’m the embodiment of the walk of shame while she looks like a #bossbabe in a navy pantsuit. Of fuckingcourse.

“How are you?” I ask, becausewhat the fuck are you doing hereseems impolite.

“I actually just had an interview at MIT,” she says with a mile-wide grin. “Yeah, the scientist running the lab where I worked in California turned out to be a total misogynist prick, so I have to get out of there. But they offered me a spot here, so it looks like I’m moving!”

“To Boston?” I’m sure I’m blinkingwaytoo fast, but I can’t seem to control anything I do at the moment.

“Yeah! Isn’t that wild?”

“The wildest,” I say. Is that even a word? Or is itmostwild? Could this matter any less right now? Because I’m standing in front of Toby’s beautiful genius ex-girlfriend, and theexpart was entirely because there was a whole ass country between them, and now it looks like there won’t be. “Does Toby know?”

“Yeah, I’m actually on my way to his place. We’re supposed to meet for brunch. I mean, he doesn’t know I got the job. I’m going to tell him over brunch. But he knew I was interviewing,” she says. She’s babbling, her cheeks reddening, and I can tell she’s excited—about the job, and about telling Toby she’s moving here. Jen glances at my borrowed sweats, at Polly’s heels in my hand. “Is that where you’re coming from?”

Jen interviewed for a jobhere. She wants to move here. She has plans to meet Toby for brunchtoday. And Toby never mentioned it. Not yesterday. Not before we kissed. Not the morning after he wasinside me.

Oh god. I feel like I’m going to be sick.

“Oh, no, um, I was actually—” Oh god, why did I lie? I’m a terrible liar and I should have just come clean, but all I can think about is Jen being back here and all the times Toby acted weird when I asked about the breakup. “I was picking up my sister’s shoes. For her wedding. From the, uh…cobbler.”

The cobbler? Jesus, could I have told a more obvious lie?

“Oh, that’s so exciting! Tell her I said congrats!” Jen says. Because she’s the nicest person on the planet, and I’m a messy brat.

“It is. So I really should be going,” I say, waving the shoes around like a crazy person. “Lots to do!”

And then I turn and trot off.

As I walk, I wait for the spiral. The panic. The freak-out. Because Toby’s perfect, gorgeous ex-girlfriend is back in Boston. And she’s on her way to meet him for brunch, which he didn’t mention. That should freak me the fuck out.

But it doesn’t.

Because there’s got to be an explanation for it, a way the return of Toby’s ex-girlfriend won’t get in the way of Toby and me. I mean, IknowToby. And after last night, Ireallyknow Toby. And I remember the look on his face when he asked me if I was sure, when he mentioned what happened last time. He looked terrified that I was going to run again. He wanted me as much as I wanted him, and this morning he was bursting with the kind of joy I’ve only ever seen on his face when he’s been truly happy.

He was truly happy.

With me.

So even though Jen is moving back here, I’m not freaking out.

Much.

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