“No, guys, it would never work. He’s so stiff.” My throat dries up at the prospect of asking him. I can’t take him to the wedding, but the real reason has little to do with him.
“I thought you said you were seeing a different side to him,” Hannah says. “A few more dates with you and I’ll bet he’ll be perfect.”
I shake my head. “They’re not dates. They’re…” I search for the perfect word, “work outings.”
“Sure they are.” She gives me the look that says she believes me about as far as she can throw me. “Regardless, a few more ‘outings,’” she rolls her eyes as she puts air quotes around the word, “and he’ll be perfect. When’s the wedding?”
My gaze drops back to the envelope. It’s such an innocuous little thing. White with Amy’s pretty handwriting and a little gold seal on the back, but it feels like a time bomb just silently ticking away until I open it and it blows up in my face. “I don’t know. It would have to be soon, right? If she dropped off the invitation instead of mailing it.”
“I think you’re going to have to open it,” Belle says. “We need to know how much time we have.”
“Or I just throw it away and pretend it isn’t happening,” I say. “I don’t need to attend, especially knowing they just plan to rub my nose in their happiness.”
“But we still need to know.” Before I can stop her, Charlie snatches the envelope from my hands and tears it open. “Miss Amy Meckler and Mr. Adam Bingle. Bingle?” she says, lifting a brow at me. “His last name is Bingle? How did I forget this?”
I shrug. “It was never the highlight of the conversation, I guess.”
“Well, I’d say you dodged a bullet already,” Hannah says. “Can you imagine being Katie Bingle?”
A tiny chuckle escapes my lips, but inside I’m conflicted. I did at one point imagine being Katie Bingle. For years, I had imagined being Katie Bingle. If Adam hadn’t shown his true colors and left me, would my friends have hated the last name then? Then Derek’s last name pops into my head and suddenly I’m thinking about Katie Davis and how much better it sounds than Katie Bingle. Oats and cheese, I have got to get my mind off dating Derek.
“Anyway, Meckler and Bingle would like to formally invite you to their wedding. February 14th at 6 p.m.”
“Valentine’s Day? That’s so romantic,” Belle sighs, before realizing she is not supposed to be happy for them. “Sorry, but it is.”
“Valentine’s Day is less than two weeks away. There’s no way I’m going. My foot probably won’t even be one hundred percent by then.” What I don’t say out loud is there is no way I’ll have lost the fifteen pounds I gained after Adam broke my heart. Pounds that came on in the form of ice cream consolation but have manifested themselves on my hips and in my face, making it appear rounder than ever before. Pounds that have stubbornly refused to budge no matter what I’ve tried. Okay, I haven’t tried that hard - I’ve never taken Charlie up on her offer to personally train me or stuck to her nutrition plan - but still, there’s no way I can get the stubborn pounds off in two weeks.
“Why not? Derek can be ready in two weeks,” Hannah says. “I’m almost sure of it.”
“No, he won’t. There will be dancing, and we know how that turned out. Plus, I don’t know if I’ll be able to.”
“I can help him with dancing if he needs it,” Charlie offers.
“Since when did you become a dance instructor?” Belle asks, clearly confused.
Charlie rolls her eyes. “I’m not, but I teach people how to move for their bodies and I teach them confidence. I could teach him. I know it.”
“Charlie, you are great at what you do,” I say, twisting my hands in my lap, “but there’s a big difference between being a dance instructor and a personal trainer.” I think back to Pauline and try to imagine Charlie leading a dance class. I can’t make the image work in my head.
She crosses her arms and frowns. “Not as much as you think, but whatever.”
“Guys, I appreciate everything you’re doing, but it’s just not possible. I’m going to politely decline and move on.”
“Or you could check that you're attending, mark the most expensive food offered, and then not show up,” Hannah says. When we all look at her, she shrugs. “What? I have a bit of a mean streak when it comes to injustice. Most type eights do. I never claimed to be perfect.”
The thought actually lingers in my mind for a minute before I kick it out. I’m not a petty person. Or at least I try not to be, and really? I’m happier without Adam in my life. Sure, I don’t know what I want now exactly, but I’m having fun letting fate decide.
“Wait, why are we even discussing this?” Belle asks. Her eyebrow lifts ever so slightly and the evil gleam that was in Hannah’s eyes, alights in hers. She glances around at the others, and their expressions adjust to mirror hers.
“That’s right,” Hannah says, “I do believe there’s still a week of the dare left..”
No. No, they wouldn’t. I can’t leave this decision up to the magic eight ball. It’s served me well, but I just know that this time it will betray me. This time, it will tell me that I should go, and then I’ll have to. “No, guys come on. I can’t let the eight ball decide this.”
Charlie folds her arms across her chest. “A dare is a dare unless you’re backing out of it.”
I sigh. She knows there is no way I will back out now, but that doesn’t make this any easier. “Fine, someone get me my bag. It’s in there.”
Belle dutifully scurries over to the table where I dropped my bag when I entered and returns brandishing the eight ball.