Page 9 of The Seemingly Impossible Love Life of Amanda Dean

“My girl is gorgeous.” V pressed her cheek to each of Mandy’s cheeks. Since they both were wearing lipstick and they still had pictures to take, kissing would have to come later. And Mandy was already ready for some kissing with the way V looked. Her dress had cap sleeves and a princess-type skirt—it didn’t match Mandy’s, but the colors were complementary, and V also wore a new pair of Vans—not that you could see them under that skirt, but she and Mandy had picked them out together. Her dark hair was wrapped up in a bunch of small buns all over her head, and her dark skin glimmered with glitter from her peony-scented body lotion.

“That’s a lovely dress.” Mom gave V a hug. “Very classy.” She quickly glanced at Mandy.

Mandy rolled her eyes.

“Are you kids hungry? I could whip up something really quick,” Mom asked as she snapped pictures. Mom loved to try to feed people when they came over—the hostess inside of her was never satisfied until someone put something in their mouth. But tonight they had more important things to do than eat.

Justin unbuttoned and buttoned his suit jacket. “My mom made pho tonight, so I’m all set, Mrs. Dean.”

“I’m good,” V said.

“Mom, we’re fine.” Mandy looked at her friends and rolled her eyes.

“Well, let me grab a few pictures real quick before you all head out. You all look absolutely stunning.” Mom never dropped the camera from her eye, continuing to snap photo after photo. At this rate there would be hundreds of pictures—probably thousands.

After a few group shots, Dad showed up in the doorway to the backyard. His normal work uniform of a suit and tie had been traded in for khakis and a polo—his casual weekend look. “We have a little issue with the cars out front.” He sounded stern, but stern was his default tone. Dad had always been a man of few words, so the ones he did say held a certain amount of urgency that wouldn’t register if someone else had said them.

Justin didn’t have any experience with the tall man with thick white hair and a gruff expression, so his normally warm-toned skin paled. “Why did I park on the street?” he mumbled to himself.

Mandy caught the way Dad’s lip curled up on one side just for a moment. He was up to something. And that, combined with the way V’s fingers tightened around Mandy’s, made her feel as though someone poured milk over a bowl of Rice Krispies inside her stomach—a tickly snap-crackle-pop rising up through her whole body. She pulled V through the house, threw open the oversized front door, and squealed.

A shiny black limousine sat parked in their roundaboutdriveway with a tuxedo-clad driver—complete with top hat and white gloves—waiting by the open back car door.

“Thought my princess needed a carriage to take her and her friends to the ball.” Dad lumbered up and squeezed Mandy into his side. Although she was taller than Mom, she was still much shorter than Dad, bringing the top of her head close to his armpit.

“You’re the best, Daddy.” It wasn’t often Mandy called him that, but it made him happy, reminding him that she was and would always be his little girl—at least that’s what he had told her.

He kissed the top of her head before Mandy pulled V toward the car.

Chapter Five

April 2019

As expected, Mandy wasnot ready when her hairstylist, Ashley, knocked on her hotel room door. The breakfast plates were still out, coffee had not been adequately drunk, and Mandy hadn’t even finished one eye. Almost every palette of eye shadow she owned was strewn all over the bed, because she had somehow forgotten to pack the one she needed most. She contemplated driving all the way home to get it, but she had no idea where it could be if it wasn’t with all her other makeup supplies. Plus, she was already running behind.

This was an omen of things to come.

The thought sprang quickly and entirely unwanted into Mandy’s head and brewed there like kombucha, fermenting until it turned sour.

How could she believe that this day was even possible? Only people in books or movies got to marry their one true love—princesses in fairy tales were guaranteed their happily ever after, not Amanda Dean. And despite Dad’s insistence on callingMandyprincess, she couldn’t have been further from one if she tried.

Sure, she had more luxuries in life than most—this was something that never escaped Mandy’s consciousness. She was privileged. But not when it came to relationships. And when it came to love, Mandy had always been downright cursed.

“Getting excited?” Ashley asked as she emptied her large metal case full of supplies. She had already plugged in a flat iron and a curling iron—although those two things seemed counterintuitive together—and unloaded at least half a dozen products onto the table in the hotel’s kitchenette. Ashley had always rocked the casual comfort look. It was one of the things that Mandy liked most about her. She had an air of calmness about her, like nothing in the world was worth getting upset about. Ashley was the poster girl forgo-with-the-flow. Today was no different: her red hair swept up into an effortless messy bun, her glowing porcelain skin—like did she even have pores?—and her yoga pants and tank had Mandy feeling a little jealous since she was such a wreck.

“Excited?” Mandy asked more to herself than to answer Ashley.Nervous. Anxious. Completely terrified.All better descriptors of what Mandy was feeling.

“Butterflies, huh?” Ashley opened a bag full of brightly colored rollers. “Everything’s going to be fine. I’ve done this a thousand times, and I have no horror stories to tell.” The look on Ashley’s face said she wanted to add the wordunfortunatelyto that statement. Would Mandy be Ashley’s first horror story? Would she be the bride Ashley told all her future clients about? A warning to them about what not to do?

This last wedding I did, let me tell you, was doomed before Ieven walked into the hotel room, Ashley would say as she brushed out her future client’s hair.A garden wedding. In April. Enough said. Am I right?

Mandy glanced out the sliding glass door at the gray sky. They paid the “sunshine tax” living in Southern California, but that wasn’t paying off today. It was as if May haze had come early. Of course there was a plan B if it rained, but then it wouldn’t be her perfect springtime garden wedding anymore, would it?

“Let’s make you a mimosa or two and get you ready.” Ashley held up a bottle of champagne that had been delivered earlier that morning, and water from the melted ice dripped back into the bucket. “What do you say?”

Mandy couldn’t argue. If today was going to end in disaster anyway, at least she could be drunk when it happened, right? “Is it too early for a margarita?”

“Now that’s my kind of girl.” Ashley walked over to the hotel phone and ordered them each a margarita and some chips and salsa—because could you really drink margaritas without them? The answer was always no.

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