Page 90 of The Rebound Plan

SHANNON

The only bright light out of the week is that after that miserable loss to Montreal, Andrew Mitchell proposed to Emma Point.

The next day, we take her out for brunch.

“Now it’s my turn to ask you for advice,” she says to me after we order. “We’re going to have two weddings, a traditional Coast Salish ceremony for our families, and then the following weekend a reception in Vancouver for everyone. I want a few different dresses, and Ani’s given me the names of one designer, but she thought you might have some other suggestions as well.”

I pull out my phone, trying to think. “You want Indigenous designers?”

“Yes.”

“So the first place I would look is in the Instagram follows of the other designers you’ve already heard of. Fashion is just like any other industry, people follow their friends and their competitors alike, just to keep tabs on each other.”

“I tried that this morning, but I didn’t get very far. I’m not very social media literate.”

I smile. “You’re a bit busy doing more important things.”

“Right now, nothing feels more important than my wedding dresses.” She blushes. “Is that horrible?”

“You’re talking to the queen of vain. Of course it’s not horrible. Those are photos you will be looking at for the rest of your life. You want the weddings to be perfect.” I text her a few links. “These are all Indigenous dress designer followed by my friend, Olivia Nash. She’s a Pacific Northwest girl, from Seattle, and I love her sense of style. She’s in New York now—that’s how we met—but her heart is definitely on the west coast. I’ll ask her directly for some recommendations, too.”

“This is incredible, thank you.” She hands her phone across the table to Ani. “Check this out.”

The dress conversation spills into wedding photo talk.

All of it feels surreal to me. At some point in my near future, I’ll be boxing up my wedding memories and putting it all behind me. I think about my wedding dress hanging in the spare room closet, not far from where Max is sleeping right now—when he even bothers to come home.

As I expected, last night he slept somewhere else. With someone else, probably.

Maybe I’ll burn my wedding photos.

After brunch, I drive Kiley to her brother’s apartment so she can pick up her dog, Puck, who she shares with her twin, Grant.

“Do you want to come for a walk with us?” she asks. “We’re going to a park first so Puck can do her business, then we’re going to check out the new condo and take some measurements.”

I have nothing else to do today, so I agree.

We talk about her conflicted feelings about leaving behind the clerical work she was doing at the hospital for the more precarious nature of regional theatre work. As we leave the park, she stops to take a picture of a restaurant so she can text it to Ty, then she explains it’s for a recommendation list they’re building together on the Lusty app, a travel and lifestyle app for “people with wanderlust” where they first met. Apparently they take their foodie lists very seriously, and it’s deeply entertaining to hear how in-depth their debates get.

By the time we’ve reached her new building, I’m in a much better mood than I’ve been in all week. More than any of my other friends, Kiley can reliably be counted on to not make every conversation about the WAG life.

Ironic, then, that we were once considering a podcast together with that exact title.

At the front door, she types in a code, saying it out loud for me. “Remember that for when you come over.”

I laugh. “Will do.”

It’s a gorgeous new building, with a great lobby and fast elevators that whisk us up to the top floor. They’ve bought one of two penthouses on this floor, and the apartment is flooded with light.

“Wow, these windows,” I say, taking it all in.

“I know, right?” She closes the door and unclips Puck’s lead. “Go on, girl. Get your sniff on.”

“What are you measuring?”

“Everything.”

I play with Puck while Kiley does what she needs to do. Then the energetic pup curls up in a beam of sunshine for a little nap, and we step outside onto the wraparound terrace.

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