Page 42 of Pretend Girlfriend

“Everyone else feels fine,” Danicka said dismissively. “Come here, we need to get started on your hair.”

The hair stylist took me by the shoulders and placed me in a chair, then immediately got to work on my hair without asking my opinion or saying a word. At this point, I was happy to let someone else make decisions, so I didn’t complain.

Also, I needed to figure out how to give Marisa’s impending marriage a stress test, to use Austin’s phrase.

“What jewelry are you wearing?” Danicka asked me.

I pulled out a little jewelry bag from my pocket. “I was going to do something simple. There are a few pendant necklaces in there that are nice without being too flashy…”

Danicka rifled through the bag and then tossed it onto a nearby table. “No no no. Those won’t do. You simply must wear one of these.” Two necklaces appeared in her hand, both covered with diamonds and sapphires. She held one up to my neck, then the other.

“Are you sure those aren’t too gaudy?”

She ignored my question. “Which of these two do you like best?”

I looked at myself in the mirror while she held them up. “I think the second one.”

“I like the first one,” she said, tucking the second one away.

Fine. Totally ignore my opinion and do whatever you want. I was beginning to see why Landon needed a fake girlfriend to keep his mother off his back.

“It’s so nice having girls to lend my jewelry!” she said happily. “It makes up for all the football practices I had to chauffeur over the years.”

The girls all chatted about the wedding day. Carol, the new Maid of Honor, told everyone about her wedding day and how she felt.

“The marriage only lasted two years,” she said with a derisive sniff. “But the wedding? It was everything I ever wanted.”

Sensing an opening, I asked, “Did you have any doubts going into it?”

“Of course,” she replied. “We were already fighting about the big stuff, like money and where we were going to live. But we were fighting about all the little things, too. I should have known it was doomed.”

Marisa was sitting next to the hair stylist’s chair, so I reached over and patted her leg. “You and Bradyn don’t fight about anything, though. You’re perfect.”

“Yeah,” she replied, but there was a fraction of a second where she hesitated.

“Hold on. Do you fight?” I gently pushed.

Marisa was a conventionally pretty woman, with big, innocent eyes. They were as wide and round as they could be now as she stared off at nothing. “Well…”

“What do you fight about?” Chloe, one of the other bridesmaids, asked.

Marisa hesitated, and Danicka interjected: “Don’t hold back on my account. Bradyn may be my son, but I know more than anyone that he’s not perfect!”

“Well…” Marisa began.

“Maybe it will be good to let it out,” I said. “If there’s ever a time to vent a little, it’s before making a lifetime commitment to another person!”

The mimosas must have weakened Marisa’s defenses, because her big eyes began shimmering with tears. “It’s just… it’s just that…”

Chloe crouched down in front of her. “Maybe we shouldn’t focus on—”

“You can tell us,” I interrupted. “What’s wrong, Marisa?”

The floodgates opened, and I immediately felt guilty for pushing her. Wanda ran over with a box of tissues, and the other girls gathered around to comfort the poor bride.

“Bradyn wants to move back to Chicago,” she got out between sobs. “But I’m happy in Portland. I have friends there, and a career. Bradyn insisted that we need to be closer to family since we’re going to have kids. I told him I wanted to wait a few years, and he got really upset. He wants to have kids right away. He said the sooner we have them, the sooner they’ll be out of the house so we can enjoy our golden years.”

She let out another wail. It took a few moments to collect herself.

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