Chapter 9
Harper
My hangover has eased somewhat, thanks to the burrito and the two gallons of water I forced down, but I’m still irritated about being stuck in the middle of town.
I may not feel like I’m on the verge of throwing up anymore, but the chaotic energy of everyone buzzing around, already preparing for Christmas, is overwhelming when my head feels like it might split open at any moment.
I can’t quite recall how Ford and I ended up in that make-out session, but I do remember it was enjoyable—at least, I think it was. I worry my drunken state turned it into a clumsy kiss, like something a toddler would do. Yet, Ford didn’t seem put off by it. He even called it nice.
“Wouldn’t hot or great be better?” I mutter to myself.
Whatever. Seven tequila shots—that I remember—so nice is probably a glowing review under the circumstances.
Who drinks that many tequila shots at an engagement party when they’re over thirty? Right now, I’m torn between hating Gina and her friends more.
Lost in my thoughts, I don’t notice someone I want to avoid until it’s too late: Kenzie.
She beams at me, her voice rising above the crowd. It annoys me. She wants everyone around us to hear her, which means I’m either being put on the spot or set up for embarrassment. Or both.
“Harper! I’m so glad I ran into you!” she practically shouts.
I wince and glance around. “Why are you yelling? I’m right here.”
“Oh, sorry,” she says, lowering her voice just a notch. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be in town for the holidays, but since you are, you have to come to my pre-bridal events.”
Is she serious? Her eager expression confirms she’s not joking. Snow begins to drift down around us, and all I want is to bring home the cake samples for Gina like she asked, then take a nap—preferably one long enough to count as a coma.
“I’m not sure that’s a great idea, Kenzie.”
She feigns hurt, her hand flying to her chest, jaw dropping in disbelief. She blinks rapidly, as if fighting back tears. Or having a mini seizure.
“But you’re my best friend, Harper! It’s bad enough you’re not in my wedding, but now you won’t even come to my parties? My bridal shower? My bachelorette party?”
How did I never notice the manipulation woven into her words before?
How could I have thought someone like Kenzie was my best friend?
She wasn’t always this way… was she? I know she’s a backstabbing witch for not only cheating with my fiancé but also stealing my wedding.
But was she always like this, or is this new?
“First of all, you never asked me to be in your wedding. Second, I wouldn’t have accepted, and no one would blame me considering the circumstances. You know… that you’re marrying the man who cheated on me with you.”
Her expression falters, clearly hoping I’ll back down quickly. If I weren’t hungover and irritable, I might have. Timing has never been her strong suit.
“That has nothing to do with our friendship.”
I laugh, even though it sends a jolt of pain through my head. “It has everything to do with our friendship, actually.”
“Harper—”
“In case you forgot, Gina’s getting married the weekend before you, and we still have a lot to plan. I don’t have much spare time. And don’t pretend you don’t know I’m here for her wedding.”
“But you can rearrange a few things, can’t you? It wouldn’t feel right not having you there.”
Oh, she’s clever. People start gathering around us, slowing down to listen.
I hate being the center of attention like this.
If we were alone, I’d tell her where to shove her bridal invitation.
Maybe I should just tell her to screw off.
Sure, it would fuel the gossip mill and paint me as vindictive, but who wouldn’t react the same way?
At some point, one of us has to put an end to this farce of polite conversation.
Instead, I shrug. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“I’ll send you the details! Love you!” Kenzie practically skips away, and I shake my head as I watch her go. She orchestrated this entire encounter to rub in the fact that she has what I should have.
A familiar pickup rolls to a stop at the curb, and the passenger window slides down. “Hop in. I’ll give you a ride home.”