Page 40 of She Used to Be Nice
“Come with me to a bridal expo in Williamsburg later?” Morgan said when she finally spoke. “I’m warning you though, it’s kind of deep in Williamsburg. Like, thirty-dollar-cab-ride-from-Union-Square deep.”
Avery threw her fist in the air. “Count mein.”
The bridal expo was actually a fifty-dollar cab ride into Williamsburg.
Avery probably could have taken the subway, but Morgan wanted to meet promptly at 6PM, before all the good vendors left, and Avery didn’t get out of work until 5:30. Her credit card wailed in agony as she sliced it through the machine in the cab. She made a mental note to pack lunch next week. Leftover takeout from the night before or peanut butter and jelly sandwiches—that was it.
She opened the cab door to the sight of Morgan waiting outside and scrolling idly through her phone.
“Hi,” Morgan said when she looked up.
It was possible there was a hint of sadness in Morgan’s voice, but perhaps Avery was imagining it. Avery walked slowly, cautiously, toward her best friend.
“Hi.” She bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from tearing up as they hugged hello. The embrace lasted longer than it normally would have, with Avery holding on tighter as a silent reaffirming of her apology, and Morgan letting her.
When they released, Morgan gave a small smile that put Avery at ease. Avery smiled back. Maybe they really were going to be okay.
“Ready?” Morgan asked.
She led them both toward the expo, held in a sprawling banquet hall inside a luxury hotel. Conversations among brides-to-be echoed throughout the space, where bakeries, limousine services, photography studios, and dozens more vendors were lined up in neat rows. Morgan and Avery made a beeline to sample red velvetcake at a bakery booth before continuing around the rest of the expo, stopping at a station selling cornhole boards that you could personalize with your and your fiancé’s initials. Avery raised an eyebrow. She hadn’t even known this kind of thing existed.
Morgan excitedly ran her fingers over the initials engraved on the display sample. She turned to a tired guy doing a crossword puzzle who appeared to be manning the booth.
“How much?” she asked.
He glanced up from behind his reading glasses. “Three thousand.”
Morgan paused like she was considering it. Avery ushered her away.
“No way,” Avery said. “You’re not wasting your money on that.”
They meandered through more rows of booths, eating more slices of cake and listening to more DJs’ mixtapes and talking to more makeup artists. Morgan asked Avery for her opinions on everything—yes to the red velvet cake, no to this DJ’s bizarre eighties synth playlist, absolutely not to this makeup artist’s cat-eye pinup looks—and Avery swelled with pride every time she answered Morgan’s questions, every time she felt herself getting Morgan’s trust back. That Morgan was a compassionate person didn’t mean Avery had free reign to screw up and be welcomed back into the friendship with open arms every single time. Love between best friends was not always unconditional. You had to be there for each other even when it was hard, otherwise trust could weaken and your relationship could demote to something more distant. As long as Avery acted exactly this supportive until the wedding, manifesting these same good feelings whenever she had to be around Noah, all would be well.
After another lap around the expo, Morgan and Avery took a break at a photographer’s booth. Lots of couples had the same idea, packing themselves tightly into the small walled area to admire all the sample photos scattered around the space. A man scooted behind Avery, sliding his hand across her lower back and lingering at her hip bone. She jumped at the icky feeling crawling all overher skin. How had he managed to touch her there? Her black puffer coat completely concealed her hips. Sometimes it seemed to Avery like every man fell somewhere along the spectrum of entitlement. On one end were the men who stared openly at a woman’s cleavage, as though they were permitted to be creeps simply because they had eyes. The disgusting man in this booth who’d copped a feel fell somewhere in the middle. And then, on the other end, was Noah.
Morgan slumped on top of a photo album on a high-top table. “I’m so tired. Taking care of Scout is exhausting. At night he barks every hour. I’m lucky if I fall asleep for forty-five minutes before I have to wake up again.” She smiled sleepily to herself. “But I love him so much.”
That stupid fucking dog. “Well, let me make your life easier.” This could be Avery’s chance for redemption. “Let me get started on planning your bridal shower. Actually, I’ll do it all.”
“Really? You don’t have to do it by yourself.”
“No, I want to! You can be involved with whatever you want, but let me do all the heavy lifting. I already know a spot.”
Morgan brightened. “Where?”
Avery grinned to herself as she thought of Gallow Green, a rooftop bar in the Meatpacking District, where leaves and flowers burst from the ceiling in a style of décor thatMetropolitanonce called “garden-green chic.” The theme matched perfectly with the Brooklyn Botanic Garden, completing Morgan’s urban-nature wedding of her dreams. It wasn’t apuppylike Noah had gotten her, but it was still meaningful in a different way, an opportunity for Avery to show Morgan that she could pull out the wedding stops, too. And the shower would be girls only, so Noah wouldn’t be there to ruin it.
“You’ll see,” Avery said. She was genuinely excited about this.
Morgan beamed before absentmindedly flipping through a sample photo album, lingering on a formfitting dress—a column silhouette! Avery recognized it!—with an illusion neckline. Then she said, “I’m planning on going wedding dress shopping nextmonth, by the way. That was the only time I could get an appointment at Kleinfeld. I want you to come, obviously.”
“Duh, I’ll be there.”
Morgan sucked in a breath. “And Blair’s coming, too.”
Avery paused, probably for a beat too long. She threw Morgan a comically wide smile. “Awesome!”
Morgan frowned. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s just, she offered, and I know you guys—”
