Page 20 of It's Complicated

Kirsten lets go of my arm and heads toward them to make the introductions.

“Ladies, this is Lori, one of Aiden’s best friends.” The women in the room smile at me tentatively. “Lori, this is Britney, my maid of honor.”

A slender blonde waves at me. I wave back.

Gosh, this is excruciating.

“And this is Erin,” Kirsten continues, probably oblivious to my deep discomfort. “One of my bridesmaids.”

“Kirsten and I have been in the same class since kindergarten,” the woman says. “Nice to meet you.”

I’m about to say nice to meet you, too, when a tall brunette enters from the other side of the room, carrying another bottle of champagne.

“Score,” she announces.

I take in the newcomer’s features, and I’m taken aback by her resemblance to Kirsten. Same bright green eyes, same pouty lips, same flawless skin. Kirsten and the newcomer are identical except for a few minor details: the unknown woman’s hair is a dark shade of brown and has longer layers, tumbling down in soft waves, and she is significantly taller than Kirsten. And most of all, her face is too smug. She must be the lovely sister of the bride.

Kirsten rolls her eyes. “And this is my sister, Kendall.”

Yep. And they’ve all got K names like the Kardashians.

I wave. “Hi.”

Kendall pours a glass of champagne and hands it to me. “You’re late, dear.” As I take the flute from her, she studies me. Like a cheetah would study a gazelle she can’t wait to eat alive. “Soyou’reJace’s girlfriend?” Her eyes narrow still—apparently she really had her sights set on him.

“Yeah, we’re dating,” I say. I raise my glass in a mock toast and take a sip of champagne. Heaven knows I’ll need the booze to survive this.

Kirsten hops onto the pedestal. “Girls, now that we’re all here… you want to try your dresses first, or should I show you mine?”

I do my best not to roll my eyes at the fakeness of the question and join the enthusiastic choirs of, “You go first.”

Yay.

“All right, girls, you take a seat and drink a little more bubbly while I go change,” Kirsten suggests.

Like good troopers, the bridesmaids all sit down. Kendall claims the small armchair while Britney and Erin sit on the couch next to each other. I instinctively perch on the armrest as far away from them as possible.

“We can squeeze,” Britney offers.

“No, thanks,” I say. “I’m fine. This is the coziest armrest ever.”

To shut me up before I blab some more nonsense, I take another sip of champagne.

“Kirsten has told us you have a lot of pets,” Erin says.

“Yeah, four cats and six hens.”

“Eww,” Kendall comments from her solo seat. “Aren’t chickens gross?”

I try to keep my smile in place. “Not to me.”

“But why would you keep chickens in a city?”

“I saw a documentary on chicken farming and it broke my heart, so I decided to save as many of the poor birds as I could.”

“That’s very sweet of you,” Erin says.

Kendall’s pouty lips become poutier. “But don’t those factories process, like, thousands of chickens? What difference do six make?”

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