Page 76 of Sister of the Bride

Chapter31

Toby

knock knock

You’re supposed to say ‘who’s there?’

Pippin?

I burst into the apartment, shoes and fuzzy robe in hand, to find Polly, Mom, and Nonna strategizing at the breakfast table over pastry Mom picked up yesterday from our favorite bakery in the South End. The plan was for us all to have a nice leisurely breakfast with mimosas before the frenzy of the wedding overtook us. One last breakfast with the four Marino women under one roof.

Of course, I screwed all that up when I spent the night with Toby, and now I’m going to have to explain myself.

“Oh my god, you slept with Toby, didn’t you?” Polly says, then gapes at me, her mouth open in a wide O of excitement.

Okay, maybe I don’t have to explain myself.

“How did you know?” I ask, dropping into a chair and grabbing a chocolate croissant off the plate in the center of the table. Nonna pours me a mimosa, and I down the thing a little faster than I mean to.

“Um, you have a dopey look and you have sex hair and you’re wearing giant men’s flip-flops. Which, from the size of them, congrats,” Polly says with a wink.

I shoot a look at Nonna, who holds up her hands.

“I didn’t say a word,” she says.

“As much as I want to hear every last detail—”

“Please, no,” Mom groans, her Midwestern prudishness making her cheeks blush rosy red.

“As much asIwant to hear it,” Polly says, rolling her eyes, “we have to handle the DJ thing.”

“Yeah, I don’t actually think that’s a problem,” I say. “I’ll call Frantz. You know he’ll be excited to take over, and we can put together a couple of playlists to fill in the gaps. I just need to find my phone.”

Because it’s not in my hand. Polly’s shoes are. I reach for my pocket, but my shorts don’t have pockets. And the robe that’s draped over my arm is empty too.

Which means I left my phone at Toby’s.

“Fuuuuuuuuck,” I groan, picturing it sitting at the end of Toby’s bed, where I dropped it while I was buckling Polly’s shoes. “I left my phone at Toby’s! I have to go get it!”

“Pippin, the woman who’s doing our facials is going to be here in ten minutes,” Polly says; she wants to make sure we all have perfectly prepped, pampered, glowing skin for her wedding day. “Then hair and makeup, then we have to meet Mackenzie and her family in Chestnut Hill for photos before the ceremony. Just call him and tell him to bring it over.” She slides her phone across the table to me.

“I don’t know his number!” I cry, because of course I don’t. I’ve had it saved in my phone since the first time he gave it to me when we were twelve. That’s probably the last time I knew what it was.

“Well, then, call Frantz with my phone,” she says.

“But…I-To-Do! I don’t have my checklists!”NowI’m spiraling—all my careful planning is going to fall apart at the finish line because I had sex brain and left my phone somewhere.

“Pippin Marino, I see you freaking out. Stop it, and look at me,” Polly says, and I do, because I don’t know what else to do right now. “This wedding is going to be fine, thanks to you. Even without your checklist. You are a boss bitch who can conquer anything. You have worked your ass off to give Mackenzie and me the best wedding day we could have imagined on an impossible timeline, and I will never be able to thank you enough for all your hard work. I love you, I love you,I love youfor all you’ve done. And you do not need some app to get you through today. In fact, I’m glad you don’t have it, because it means that instead of obsessively checking off tasks, you can let Jesus take the wheel or whatever and actuallyenjoyyourself. Which is the only thing I want from you today, you hear me?”

I suck in a deep breath through my nose and let it out, long and slow, through my mouth. I’ve been awake barely an hour and have already nearly had, like, three existential crises, to say nothing of my utter meltdown last night.

But Iama boss bitch.

And Ididplan the fuck out this wedding.

And it’s going to befine.

Man, this newfound skill of talking myself down from spirals is coming in hella handy.

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