Page 11 of It Could Happen
“This is my tribe, right here,” Caroline exclaims, tears filling her eyes. “Team#sweetcarolinegetsmarried. I’m so happy that y’all have agreed to be by my side on this adventure. We’re going to have so much fun.”
As usual, Caroline’s tears are contagious. Erica starts to fan her face with her hands. “Stop, please. I don’t want to mess up my makeup.”
“I cry more when I’m with Caroline than anyone else,” I say.
“So do we,” Erica agrees.
“Ah, the groomsmen are here. Now the fun really starts,” Leslie says, ignoring our emotional moment. She runs her hands through her hair. I glance over to see Andy and four other men holding up shot glasses. Sure enough, one of them is the truck guy from the parking lot. It figures he’d be one of the groomsmen.
“Tori, honey, you have some black stuff on the side of your pants,” Erica says, pulling my attention away from the men.
I look down at my pants and then look back at the truck guy. I—freaking—knew—it.
“Yeah, unfortunately, I think I brushed up against a truck in the parking lot.” I throw a dirty look in the direction of the smug truck guy celebrating with Andy and the rest of his crew.
“Oh no, let’s go get some club soda from the bar.” She takes my hand and pulls me away from Caroline and the others. “We’ll get that taken care of.”
Does club soda even get rid of stains? Or is it an old urban legend?
“Thanks. I can’t believe I already got my pants dirty. The evening has just barely started.”
She pats my hand sympathetically. “Between you and me, these parties make me so anxious. I feel like my outfit is a magnet for stains. I’m super worried that I’m going to spill something on myself.”
“Me too,” I say. “And as you can see, it happened.”
As Erica and I approach the bar, I look over and see the truck guy glance in our direction. Our eyes lock, and I frown.
“Time to get you fixed up and back to the fun.”
Erica asks the bartender for a glass of club soda while I scan the room. Caroline is now with Andy, and he’s wrapped his arms lovingly around her shoulders while they talk to some of their guests. It’s nice to see that some things never change.
Rachel and Leslie have made their way over to the other groomsmen. I notice Rachel gazing longingly at one of the men who’s wearing a white tuxedo and black bowtie. He’s laughing boisterously, and it’s very clear that she’s set her sights on him. Caroline will be very pleased.
Meanwhile, Leslie has gravitated toward the truck guy. Hah, why does this not surprise me? I’m about to ask Erica about them when she grabs my wrist and pulls me away from the bar.
Before I know it, we’re in the bathroom, and she’s scrubbing the black scuff marks on my pants.
It’s totally understandable why Caroline chose her to be her maid of honor. She clearly likes to take care of people, and she stays calm in an emergency.
Not that stains on white clothes are a massive emergency, but right now it’s pretty urgent.
“Got it,” she announces proudly. “Just one more step.”
She produces a hair dryer from a large duffle bag. I glance inside it to see a flatiron, dry shampoo, band-aids, a sewing kit, ibuprofen. Wow, she’s like the Mary Poppins of maid of honors.
“You’re certainly prepared,” I exclaim.
“Always.”
After my jeans are dry, we head back to the party, and our first stop is the bar. I’m in desperate need of a drink after my little unexpected hiccup. Preferably something colorless. Erica orders us two glasses of pinot grigio. Obviously we’re on the same page when it comes to beverage choices.
“It’s time to enjoy ourselves. Here’s to no more wardrobe malfunctions,” Erica says, holding up her wine. I touch my glass to hers.
“You’re my hero.”
She pretends to bow.
“There you are,” she says, glancing behind me. “Tori, this is my boyfriend and Andy’s best man, Christian.”
