Chapter 3
three
Nessa
Three Months Ago | Memorial Day Weekend
Somewhere between the orgasms and when I passed out in Mateo’s bed, my phone’s battery died—something I never let happen.
With a huff, I plug it into the charger on the bedside table in my own hotel room, then scurry to the bathroom to take the world’s fastest body shower.
I’m gathering the embroidered button-down shirt Stef gifted me for getting-ready photos as the rapid-fire dinging of my phone sends piercing pains through my head.
Last night’s clothes tossed on the floor, I pick up the device, finding dozens of unread text messages, too many emails to count—ninety percent of which are probably from stores and blogs I follow—and thirteen calendar reminders. Great. Nothing urgent.
I open our group chat and type out a message before jumping in the shower.
Group Chat: Bad Bitches
[Stef Santos-Manolo, Lily Long, Delia Shane, Nessa Rabin]
Nessa:
Overslept. Getting in the shower. Will be up shortly.
It continues to chime through my shower, but I don’t bother to check. Only once I’ve finished and am drying off do I scroll through the messages.
Stef:
I’ll rearrange hair appointments. No worries!
Lily:
Some worries. Susan’s not as chill as the bridezilla here…
Delia:
She’s right. Stef is chill and her mom is not. Hurry-ish.
I’m wrapping myself in my towel when another text comes through. This one in a separate thread.
Satan’s Bikini Waxer:
Come on, Ness. Can we catch up over coffee?
I delete that message. If I don’t acknowledge it, then it didn’t happen, right?
Last night was the first night I’ve spent with another man since I ended things with Caleb. Another man who just so happened to use his fingers, lips, and tongue to make me come multiple times.
No need to ever think about Caleb the selfish limp-dick jerk again.
Except, as I slide my bra on, my nipples graze the cups and tingle into peaks again.
Dammit. Don’t think about last night either.
With a shake of my head, I snag my leggings off the bed. I slip them on and button up the adorable bridesmaid shirt. I’m just sliding my phone into my belt bag when another text pops up, bringing up the three previous texts from my middle sibling.
Tal:
Aba is giving me a hard time about the pronouns. AGAIN.
Can you please talk to him?
Where are you?
You never take this long to reply…
Nessa:
Stef’s wedding weekend. You know this.
For now, ignore Dad.
I’ll see what I can do this week.
Tal:
Best big sister.
Nessa:
Screenshot to torture Shae with later
With a shake of my head, I step out into the hall and let the heavy metallic door thunk shut behind me.
My voice is taut as I grumble, “You’re fucking twenty, Tal.
Talk to your own parents.” While my hand is still perched on my belt bag zipper, the damn thing vibrates again, jolting me back to the present.
732-848-0609:
We exchanged numbers last night
See you at the altar. I’ll be the best-looking one ;)
I choke on a laugh; he did not think that was cute. Ugh, I gave Mateo my number. Cool. With a sigh, I create a new contact and label it Bad Idea.
Nessa:
Sorry, who is this?
Bad Idea:
You know who this is.
oh, I know what you need.
image attached
The elevator doors open, and I step in. There are a few women scattered around the tiny stainless-steel box, and any one of them could be related to Stef, so on the off chance that the image is risqué, I don’t open the text thread.
It dings again as I step out and stride toward the double doors with the gold plaque embossed with Bridal Suite. With a flair for the dramatic, I enter, flinging the curtain of dark blond hair that hangs down to my waist over a shoulder.
“Good morning, ladies—” My enthusiastic greeting gets cut off when the blazing sunlight streaming in from the floor-to-ceiling windows blinds me. Wincing, I slide my black mirrored sunglasses over my eyes. Thank god the suite is outfitted with a coffee bar.
I fill a mug of coffee, sugar, and cream, then slide onto the chaise lounge beside Lily.
“How did you sleep?” The second the words are out, a queasy rush comes over me. Pressing my coffee into her hand, I jump up, then scurry for the bathroom.
When I’m done emptying the contents of my stomach, Lily enters with a hand towel and a tiny plastic cup of mouthwash from the sink in the room. Great. I haven’t been hungover like this since my years at Harvard.
More ringing. Is that in my head? No, it’s texts. Why is my ringer on?
Bad Idea:
[goofy face selfie]
Come on, Ivy Out of My League
It was nice to see you have some fun.
Nessa:
Ivy Out of My League?
Bad Idea:
screenshot of contact card
Nessa:
eye roll emoji Last night was a mistake. It will never happen again.
“Can I kill the best man?” I groan to Lily.
She blinks. “I mean, I’d prefer you… oh, you mean the other one.” She’s piecing it together in real time.
“Delia and I had a lot of tequila and played a game with Mateo. Or I did? I think she was there for a bit.” I groan.
“And I ended up sleeping in Mateo’s room.
So, anyway…” I heave out a breath. “River said he now gets ‘relationship privileges,’ and that if I didn’t tell you, he would.
He kind of… found me there this morning? ” My voice squeaks on the last bit.
Slumping my head against the wall, I slide my sunglasses back on so I can wallow with at least a modicum of privacy.
“So what? You were in his hotel room? And that’s a big secret…?”
She’s really not getting this.
“Come on, babe. Please do not make me say it. You can put the pieces together.” I nudge her.
“Oh. Oh . Wait what ?” Her voice gets a little too loud, her excitement taking hold.
I shush her. For the sake of my head, but also because I do not need the half-dozen members of the Santos-Manolo family on the other side of the wall knowing what we were up to last night.
“River said that if he knows, then you get to know. So now I told you. Okay?” I roll my head against the wall and sigh. “This means he can leave me alone with the whole he’s over keeping secrets thing.”
In fairness to River, he did just unburden a pretty big one from Lily’s ex-husband. Holding onto a secret for ten years would make me hate them too.
“But you are going to tell Delia and Stef too, right?” Her eyes widen in a silent plea.
“Yes, but later. It’s Stef’s wedding day. Can you text your man? Let him know you know?”
She pulls out her phone, taps out a text, then looks up at me. “Done.” As she slips her phone back into the pocket of her black joggers, she steps over to the in-bathroom sink. Wet washcloth in hand, she wipes the sweat from my brow.
“Let’s get some carbs in you. Maybe some electrolytes?”
It’s so weird, the way our roles have reversed.
There’s a light knock on the door, and Delia slides inside, giving a soft smile. “I forgot how little you’ve been drinking these days. I should have stopped you sooner. But…” Her lips tick up on one side. “It seemed like you were having fun. You okay? What can I do?”
My upchuck reflexes kick back in, and I turn to say hello to the porcelain gods. Lily holds my hair and rubs circles on my back while instructing Delia to go down to the lobby for medicine and a sports drink.
Delia holds up the oversized tote I hauled up here with me. “No need. Knowing Nessa, there’s a hangover kit in here. Which of the many little bags in here is designated for a situation like this?”
“The bright pink one,” I groan as I wipe my mouth with the washcloth.
“Hang tight.” She digs through the bag, pulling out cubes for sewing kits, headaches, bumps and bruises, and extra cards for gifts in the event that someone forgets. “Good lord, Nessa. What do you have in case of a nuclear attack?”
“That’s the shiny one,” I joke. “Zombie apocalypse is neon green.” I hang my head and heave a sigh. “Fuck it.” Glasses on again, I pull my shoulders back. “Don’t tell Stef because today’s not about me, but?—”
The door creaks open, cutting off my confession, and the bride-to-be appears.
“Don’t tell Stef what? That you and Matty drunk giggled at the bar, then stumbled into his room together? Or what happened after that?” she says, one brow arched.
All I can do is blink at her.
She huffs. “I’m a middle school teacher who’s marrying another teacher. You think we don’t notice things?”
Shrugging, I say, “Welp, now River doesn’t have to whine about keeping it a secret, I guess. We can discuss this another time. Like never. Now go relax.” I wave a dismissive hand. “Today is for you. It’s your wedding day.”
“True, and I also have no interest in hearing about my brother’s sex life. Just, please tell me you know what you’re getting into with him.” Her tone is sweet, but her mouth is turned down in a concerned frown. “I love him, but he’s an idiot. I don’t think he takes anything seriously.”
My head pounds, making it hard to keep up with the conversation.
“I don’t want her to get her hopes up,” Delia says. “Caleb really messed with her head. I don’t want to see her heart get broken again.”
“Please, we don’t use the devil’s name,” I say, eyes closed. “As for your brother, I want to take a bath in bleach, then drink it. This will not be happening again.” Head lowered into my hands, I tune them out and wait for the room to stop spinning.
“Fucking flawless.” I nod, looking one last time at the work Delia did to make it look like I slept. “Damn, girl. When are you quitting your job at the bar? You need to do hair and makeup professionally. You have talent.”
“As soon as the Salvatores are willing to hire me, I guess? I won’t compete with the mob,” she teases.
We huddle together with bouquets in hand—tiny sprays of white roses to complement Stef’s dress. Her larger bouquet is full of blues and purples that coordinate perfectly with our dusty blue dresses, each a different cut to flatter our individual figures.
Thank god she didn’t force me to wear something more fitting for Delia’s tall, lithe figure or Lily’s toned feminine curves.
The bride’s American style ballgown is gorgeous, but her Maria Clara terno—the traditional Filipino sleeved bolero—is the star of the show.
In minutes, she’ll head down the aisle to Lee Carter, a dead ringer for her teen TV crush. The four of us stand together for the last time as a group of single women.
I soak in the moment, so appreciative of the love these friends show me.
Stef’s tan skin, the same golden-brown shade as her brothers, causes my mind to flash back to last night.
But I shake the image away, determined to be present in this moment.
Her deep brown eyes glow with soft tears, her hand in mine, with Delia’s and Lily’s joining.
Somewhere in the distance, a slight click suggests the cameras are capturing our huddle.
“Delia’s first,” the coordinator calls.
An ethereal instrumental pop song provides the tempo for her trip down the aisle, an uplifting melody that people in the crowd mouth the words to.
At close to a foot taller than me and with dark blond waves, Delia is every bit a Barbie at first glance. Given her stature and figure, she’s in a silky column gown with a cowl neck and halter strap. She’s stunning. Her old Hollywood style waves and the deep side part add to the vintage glamour.
“Nessa’s next. Then the maid of honor—” The coordinator’s brows lift, and she scans the space beside me, where Lily was just standing.
I turn in a slow circle, finding her peeking through a panel of windows to one side of the doors. Her chocolate eyes are glassy as she watches the men lined up by the altar. I pop my arm around her waist and lean in. “You got this.”
When she turns in to hug me, her off-the-shoulder sweetheart neckline sheath gown lightly swishes my toes. The thigh-high slit sweeps wide, giving her a seductive quality.
She swallows thickly, nodding, as the coordinator guides me to my place.
Like I practiced last night, I walk slowly toward Delia.
It’s impossible not to take in the splendor of the room as I go.
The men all look incredible in their navy suits.
Of course, Mateo has his eyes locked on me.
The millionaire playboy who has never committed to anyone or anything looks like a delicious mistake I can’t afford to repeat.
As I walk in time with the music, his attention burns into me.
His smirk is wicked, and the wink he gives me makes my heart flutter in a way it shouldn’t.
After everything with Caleb, I’ve decided the best way to protect myself from being fooled again is to maintain my independence.
Shoulders back, bouquet low, I glide to the music and do the only thing that comes naturally to me.
I plaster on a bright smile and focus on the task at hand.