Page 8 of Not Your Basic Love Story

“Oh, we didn’t get in till late. Our flight was delayed! Some idiot had a drone out on the tarmac or something. How have you been? Miranda told us about what happened with your boyfriend. How are you holding up? I thought for sure you’d be next!” Susan was interrupted by an elbow from her youngest daughter.

I cast a thankful glance to Angelina, who nodded and returned to her meal of bacon and eggs.I forced a smile and took another long sip.“Yeah, it just wasn’t working anymore. When you know, you know, right?”

Susan nodded. “Oh, you’re so right, honey! So right. Especially at your age, there’s no time to waste! I told Miranda, I said, honey, you better hurry up and get that man to marry you! I need grandbabies!” Susan laughed, patted the corners of her coral-coloured lips, and then took a bite of her croissant.

I got enough pressure from my own mom to hurry up and get married. I didn’t need it from Miranda’s mom, too. “So,” I said, eagerly turning my attention to Frank. “How’s retirement treating you?”

He shrugged noncommittally, then looked to his wife to answer for him.

“Oh, Frank is loving it, aren’t you, darling? We’re finally able to get done all of those pesky little chores around the house that have been adding up! He spends almost the whole entire day out in the garage, tinkering. He’s just loving it!”

I glanced at Angelina, who rolled her eyes, and I stifled a smile in my drink. Technically, Frank was Miranda’s step-father and Angelina her half-sister, but Miranda had never made the distinction,so neither did I.

The rest of the day was spent wandering bored around the resort, drinking fruity drinks with umbrella straws, hiding my pasty white ass from the sun, searching unsuccessfully for Miranda, and avoiding absolutely everyone else.

Not exactly how I’d pictured my Mexico vacation. Today we would have gotten a couple’s massage, maybe taken a trip into town to go shopping, gone snorkelling out in the ocean, or perhaps ordered room service and spent the afternoon in bed, emerging flush and giddy for the rehearsal dinner tonight.

By the time evening came round, I needed another shower. The layers of sunscreen had mixed with my sweat to form a paste, and my hair was beyond help.

Dressed to impress in a flowy dusty rose number and wedge sandals, I exited my room to see Nicole and Chaz sidling up. Great timing. Nicole looked drop-dead gorgeous in a sapphire-coloured dress that wrapped around her curves, flaunting her cleavage. Though, the diamonds around her neck and dangling from her ears were ostentatious. Who travels with that much jewelry? And her shoes, were thoserealLouboutins?

I glanced self-consciously down at my meagre b-cups, which barely filled out my bra. And my shoes; could she tell they were from Winners? I suddenly felt very plebeian.

“Nicole, you’re not supposed to upstage the bride!” I said as she hover-kissed both my cheeks.

“Oh, this old thing?” She posed and laughed.

I third-wheeled alongside her and Chaz, nodding politely as Nicole went on and on about the fantastic spa they’d found, and the delicious room service they ordered, and the scuba diving excursion they’d booked for the following day.

Great. So happy for you.

At the rehearsal dinner I was seated third in line between Miranda’s cousin and Nicole, of all people. Charlotte was busy catching up with Angelina on the opposite side while Nicole engaged mostly with Hannah at the end. Which left me in the middle, sitting by myself, stealing glances at my best friend as she cooed over her husband-to-be.

The food was good. The drinks were good. The cake was good. The toasts were okay. One was pretty funny, actually. Derek’s best man had some good stories about their college days together, about how they’d eaten too many pot brownies, and Derek had clogged the sink with his barf. The story reminded me of my plane ride here, of my queasy companion and our misfired flirtation.

My heart twinged, a longing ache in my chest, but for what, I wasn’t sure. A feeling of something that could have been, but wasn’t? Or maybe my heart hurt because ofhim. I couldn’t stop looking out over the tables and noticing the empty space where he should have been.

Once the formalities were over I pushed my way over to Miranda before she could be distracted by the other guests. All I wanted was a drink—just one drink, alone, with my bestie.

“Miranda! You look stunning,” I said, admiring her white maxi dress with tasteful glitterings and shocking bright pink heels.

“So do you! I love this dress on you. You look amazing,” she said, giving me a tight hug. My heart ached, needing more than one little hug, having felt so far from her these past few weeks, but not wanting to burden her with my pain while she prepared for her wedding.

“Let’s go get a glass of wine! I have to tell you what happened on my flight,” I said, taking her by the hand.

She grinned and let me pull her along until some other relatives of hers stopped us to chat. A few more steps, another distraction. Then Hank showed up. Great. More Hank.

“Miranda, can I steal away your Becky for a drink?” he said as if asking her permission was the same as asking me if I wanted to drink with him.

“Oh, sure!” Miranda said, obviously needing to talk to all of these other people.

I turned to her, mouthing “NO,” but Miranda coaxed me on, mouthing back, “he’s single!” Yeah, I sort of picked up on that already, thanks.

Hank offered his arm. I was cornered. How could I turn this guy down without making the whole rest of this wedding super awkward? I opened my mouth to say yes, but Angelina swept in and grabbed me by the hand.

“Becky! Do you have a tampon?” she asked.

I didn’t, but she gave me a wide-eyed look. To any woman, it was obvious Aunt Flo wasn’t really visiting her. She was an angel by both name and virtue, clearly.

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