Page 185 of Mexico Can Choke On It
“Slow down there, B,” she laughs, dodging me. “Gotta gethitched first.”
She starts unzipping her jacket.
“What are you doing?”
“Looking all bridal-like in my white dress,” she says, like it’s obvious.
“Keep it on, and the boots,” I say firmly, catching her wrist. “They’re a part of you, and this is how I want to remember you in fifty years.”
I’ll tell her about my vivid fantasies later, the ones where she’s wearing nothing but that jacket and those boots.
“Ahem.” Nigel’s British accent interrupts my inappropriate thoughts. “If the bride and groom would kindly assume their positions, we can proceed.”
Petra whips around to face Hana. “Will you be my maid of honor?”
She gasps. “Me? Are you sure?”
“You tased a felon in stilettos and didn’t flinch. I’m proud as hell to call you my friend for life.”
Hana launches herself at Petra, wrapping her in a hug. “Thank you for showing me how to be a badass.”
“You always were. You just needed to set her free. And now the world better watch out.”
Hana pulls back, tears welling up in her eyes. “You’re getting the love story. The real thing.” She pauses, biting her lip. “Do you think… maybe there’s one out there for me too?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely.” Petra’s response is immediate and fierce. They hug tightly.
Christ,watching her build people up like this—it’s hersuperpower.
Nigel clears his throat. “Perhaps we might resume our conversationafterthe ceremony?”
“One more thing!” Petra says, dropping to her knees to face our Maltese hostess. “Miss Muffy, would you please do me the honor of being my bridesmaid?”
The fluffball barks only once—posh, dignified.
“Miss Von Cashmere accepts with great enthusiasm,” Nigel translates, deadpan.
He produces a cookie from his jacket, handing it to Petra with ceremonial care. She feeds it to Miss Muffy then straightens the tiny tiara perched between the dog’s ears.
Then Petra’s face goes pale. “Wait. STOP. This is all wrong!”
My stomach drops.
“I can’t get married without Cam and Katie! My best friends! They’re supposed to be here! We promised—no matter what—we’d be at each other’s weddings!” Petra spins toward Hana. “Can I borrow your phone? Emergency bride situation!”
Relief floods through me.
Hana hands over her phone without question, and Pip mutters while she types: “It’s Petra. EMERGENCY BRIDESMAID SUMMONS! I’m getting married in approximately five minutes. FaceTime now, or forever hold your peace.”
Seconds later, two split screens explode onto the phone. One blonde, one brunette. Both screaming.
“MARRIED?!” they shout in unison.
Petra holds the phone high and says, “No time for emotional speeches or backstories. Cam, Katie—this is Hana. She took down Fiona; she’s a legend, and you’re gonna adore her. Hana, meet my ride-or-die besties.”
Virtual squeals. Rapid-fire hellos. Then Petra angles the phone toward me, and I find myself face-to-face with two women who’ve clearly been hearing about me for ages.
“Ladies, meet my future husband, Bryce Sterling. B, these girls are why I got through college without a criminal record.”
