Page 99 of The Wedding Crush

She thinks it’s pointless to keep talking in code. They still don’t know Stefano and I are “officially” together, but I’ve told them we’ve been growing on each other. Which, in Sister Circle code, means my heart is involved.

Same thing.

Quiet as kept, maybe Stefano had a point.

The girls and I have been talking about us for the past two weeks. Blatantly telling everyone about our relationship will absolutely overshadow the wedding like it’s doing to this gloom-and-doom party bus.

I refuse to let it happen.

“Listen, I love that you all care so much, but I’m telling you, I’m fine,” I say, aiming to nip this in the bud before we stop to pick up Monica.

“Mm-hmm. Freaked out, insecure, neurotic, and emotional?” Seneca quips.

I laugh.

In my periphery, Chiara’s and my eyes connect.

Smiling at her, I attempt to move the conversation along.

“Yes, all of that, Sen.” I giggle and nudge her shoulder with mine then reach over and squeeze Morgan. “But also, I’m so ready to celebrate our girl over delicious Italian food—”

“And sourdough bread,” Valerie moans.

“And wine flights,” Morgan adds, excitedly.

Notably, nothing over the top like Vegas-style clubbing or a gentlewoman’s bar with scantily clad hulks in stuffed Speedos. Nope, not for Morgan Elaine Forster, soon-to-be Fortemani.

She couldn’t be further from the dangling penis necklaces, crowns, and neon pink sashes girl.

Her party idea list included the likes of wine-tasting or wine and painting (we agreed, too on the nose), glamping/spa day, karaoke, concerts (British Columbia with Beyoncé), and a Clue-themed murder mystery party down in San Diego at a viral board game store, Love & Games. “Quiet drama.” Her words verbatim.

With the jam-packed wedding month, though, out-of-town options quickly got nixed.

So, she settled for wine and dinner at Bramoso’s, followed by a pit stop at a karaoke bar in the city.

It’s not Queen B killing it like a badass blonde bombshell with fifty outfit changes, but we’ll be together.

Win-win.

Valerie’s phone rings on speakerphone, piercing the air.

A few seconds later, Monica answers. “ETA?” she asks.

“Two minutes away, so bring yourself outside, and let’s start this party!” Valerie shouts and hooks her toned leg around the floor-to-ceiling pole. Flaunting the fruits of the Pilates classes she’s been taking at Monica’s studio, she whips her body around like a seasoned professional.

“Ow!Ow!” Morgan and I holler.

Seneca produces a stack of ones from her purse and starts fanning them at Valerie.

“Okay, I see you!” Chiara perks up for maybe the first time she entered the bus.

I smile solemnly.

Sadly, this is as wild as it’s going to get tonight. Dinner and karaoke just don’t have that sameI’m almost off the marketfeel, I think, when Monica’s panicked voice rips through the debauchery.

“Oh, my God. I can’t believe this is happening,” she scoffs.

The four of us freeze.

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