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FIVE MONTHS LATER
You know the phrase, “I’d take a bullet for …” whoever—your best friend, your child, your spouse, your sister?
People love to use that as the modern standard for declaring their level of devotion.
I’m going to propose we change this.
I mean, why is taking a bullet so hard anyway? Painful, certainly, but statistically unlikely for most of us.
I propose we change the phrase to, “I’d wear Spanx to a party full of strangers for you.”
That feels way more likely to happen, arguably just as painful, and (depending on how good a shot your opponent is) potentially a longer time commitment.
Even if it doesn’t catch on, this is how much I love my sister. I am wearing Spanx at a party full of strangers for her.
Of course, it’s her engagement party and I’m her maid of honor, so not showing up would be kind of a dick move.
After Savannah finally met Ian in person, they both fell hard and fast. Maybe it’s because they were so isolated and living so close together for so long, or maybe they were just both lucky enough to know right away.
From the time they met in person to the time he proposed was less than two months. That was three months ago. So, yeah, it took more time to plan this party than it took for them to fall in love.
The party is at Le Petite Bistro, ironically. Because Ian is a tech hotshot in Austin, the guest list is long and intimidating. Thank god, Ian must have known how out of my league this event is, because someone on his staff sent over a selection of dresses for me to choose from.
I ended up picking a black, body-con, cape dress. It’s elegant enough that I fit in with this high-rolling crowd, but the flowing cape makes me feel ever so slightly like a Sith lord. He even sent a pair of stacked-heel, Mary Jane Doc Martens. The pièce de résistance is the black leather clutch he sent along that has Vader helmets embossed on it.
I feel like someone had it made just for me.
Which is one of the reasons I’m clutching it like I’m a toddler with her lovey. It’s soothing to have some tiny piece of something that feels like mine in this sea of unfamiliarity in which I’ve found myself.
The sea of unfamiliarity being my sister falling in love with and getting engaged to one of the most eligible bachelors in Austin.
Since Ian came into her life, her world has been flipped upside down. To a much lesser extent, mine has as well. I didn’t realize how much I worried about her until she was suddenly out of debt and actually happy. Of course, the money is a tiny part of it, for her anyway. I have no doubt she would love Ian even if he wasn’t rich. Having her lawyer’s fees vanish like the physical body of a dead Jedi … well that’s a bonus.
Marrying Ian is everything I could have ever wanted for her.
I just can’t help but feel … ever so slightly … superfluous to her life all of a sudden.
Which of course makes me feel like a horrible person. Because her love and happiness are what matters here.
And it’s not like I won’t still be her sister. It’s just … if this is her social crowd from now on? Holy smokes am I ever out classed! I’ve been trying to make polite conversation with these people all evening and it’s exhausting.
Thank goodness the wedding itself is going to be much smaller. Two weeks from now, Ian is flying us all down to some swanky resort in Belize for a week on a private island. The guest list there is limited to only the wedding party, families, and a few close friends.
Which should be wonderful and relaxing and not at all sheer torture as I try to avoid running into Martin when we’re trapped together on a deserted island!
Cluck my life.
And then, just like the devil he is, the mere thought of him seemed to have summoned him, because there he is, across the room by the entrance, talking to a couple that look like they could have stepped out of a magazine.
The man is ruggedly handsome, the woman so beautiful she has to be an actress.
Martin pauses when he sees me. He’s in a suit and stops with his drink half way to his mouth.
My heart seems to clench in that moment when our gazes catch from across the room. His gaze roams over me, like he’s drinking in every detail. He swallows visibly and I swear I see the muscle in his jaw tick from across the room. But that’s ridiculous, right?
A) I don’t have super vision, so how could I have seen that, and B) if he looked at me the way I imagined he did, it would imply he’s missed me.
And surely if he’s missed me, he would have done something about it before now.
