Page 28 of What's in a Kiss?

“But Masha’s in the room, right? And this call is the bride’scondition for you to hold on to your reign of terror as maid of honor?”

“That’ssucha refreshing point of view.”

“And perhaps a condition for your best friend walking down the aisle at all?” he prompts.

“You’re funny.” I laugh theatrically and point at the phone. “He’s a riot, Mash.”

“Well, as long as it’s not coming from a place of sincerity,” Glasswell says. “Do you mind if I record this? It’s for your benefit. That way, when you go off the rails at the wedding, we can play this recording and save some time.”

I laugh jauntily and say, “I don’t think that will be necessary.”

“Now, grovel.”

“Well, Glasswell, I won’t keep you—”

“Call me Jake.”

“I should have welcomed you last night, not attacked you. For that, I’m sorry.”

“How sorry, Olivia?”

“What’s that?” I say. “You’re sorry, too? Mash! He’s sorry, too.”

“Awwww!” Masha says. “See?”

I continue for her benefit: “He says he recognizes that he can often be an enormous—”

“Stop,” Glasswell cuts me off before I’ve chosen the right insult. “I’m going to save you from yourself. Think of Masha, okay?”

I take a breath. He’s not wrong. “Thank you.”

“Now,” he says, “is there anything else before I go get dressed?”

The idea of Glasswell rising from bed in a state of undress causes me to gulp, then visualize, then—

No. I recover.

“You and I,” I say, “are on the same team this weekend. We’re here for our friends. Let’s not lose sight of that.”

I look at Masha, who is nodding, satisfied. I smile at her. She beams back and I know that I’m forgiven. I commit to being better, kinder to Glasswell for the rest of the day.

“I... look forward to seeing you soon,” I say into the phone.

I almost end the call before I realize he hasn’t responded.

“You used to be a much better actor,” he says, sounding suddenly less playful. “Don’t quit your day job, Dusk.”

As I pull the phone away from my ear, I hear Glasswell say, “Actually, do quit your day job. You can’t drive for shit.”

••••••

Noon finds meless composed and glamorous than I would like to be, but at least I’m heading for the wedding canopy, strappy heels looped around my wrist. Across a solid mile of sand, I’ve lugged gift bags, programs, a ring bearer pillow, and Masha’s forgotten outfit change for the reception. When I finally release my burden behind the PA, I see Masha and Eli posing adorably for the wedding photographer. Less adorable is the conspicuous absence of Glasswell.

I reapply deodorant and exhume the melted remnants of my lipstick from its tube. Using my phone as a mirror, I’ve paintedmy top lip rather adroitly when Masha takes me by the shoulder, panic on her face.

“Don’t worry, I got your clothes. And your something blue!” I fish from my purse the blue satin garter Masha left back in the suite.

“It’s not that—”

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