Page 119 of You're so Bad

My hideous poofball of a dress, with puff sleeves and a skirt with a bubble hem, is a matching red. The color clashes perfectly with my hair, just as it was meant to, I’m sure.

Bianca swallows, then approaches us. “I know I assigned colors to everyone, but the other gentleman seemed to understand I was talking about accessories…Doc.” She waves to Colter and his friends a few rows over. All of them have tasteful pocket squares. Colter is handing a flask to one of the guys, and he freezes as if he’s a deer in Bianca’s headlights. But she’s so pissed about Leonard’s suit she doesn’t even notice. There’s a photographer standing next to a huge goldenrod plant, her nose twitching like a rabbit’s as she takes photos of everyone’s natural poses, probably catching the guys with their hooch.

“Well, shucks.” Leonard gives me a rueful look, really laying it on thick. “I went and put my foot in it, didn’t I, honey? It’s just…well, this here suit was given to me by the parents of one of my favorite little tykes. It has sentimental value, and I figured this was an opportunity to wear it.”

“It’s fine,” Colt says, surprising me. He’s crossed the rows of flowers to join us, leaving his buddies behind. The last time Leonard saw him, he punched him the face, leaving him with the sickly yellow cast to his eye that hasn’t been fully hidden by whatever makeup Bianca’s caked over it.

“Colter,” Bianca snaps. “It’sred.”

“And you told him to wear red. My buddy here is just doing as you ordered.”

Is he…drunk?

He’s got no reason to stand up for Leonard, unless he has some weird testosterone-fueled respect for him because he punched him in the face.

Then Colt wraps an arm around Leonard’s shoulder and steers him back toward the little circle of bros and their flask. “Come hang out with us, man. There’s this hilarious video I have to show you about…”

I tune him out, because I couldn’t be less interested—and also because they’re leaving me with Bianca.

“Are you sure that guy’s really a doctor?” she asks. She’s wearing a beautiful lavender dress…probably because it’smyfavorite color. The funny thing is that red isherfavorite—she’s spiting herself just to poke at me. I want to ask her why, to ask what purpose any of this serves for either of us.

Instead, I ask, “Do you want to see his medical license, Bianca? What else would you like, a blood test, maybe? A urine sample?”

She scrunches her nose. “Don’t be gross. You have to admit, he doesn’t come off as a doctor.”

“That’s why I like him. He’sunexpected.” I say pointedly, because we both know that Colter isn’t exactly a roller coaster of excitement.

She looks away for a second, her eyes twitching as she watches Colter. I can see his mother a few rows back, talking to the woman who has a thing for Leonard.

I wave to Shelly, and she blows me a kiss.

“What’s up with you and Colt’s mother, anyway?” Bianca says.

“We like each other. I’m not sure why that’s so hard for you to understand.” I feel a little twinge of sympathy as I say it, because even though she’s the very opposite of my friend now, Idoget why it’s hard for her to understand. My grandmother might not be a Jelly Lady, but she’s a wonderful woman who’s always cared about me and let me know it. Bianca has never had someone like that in her life.

She tightens her lips into a line that she’d never keep there if she had access to a mirror. “She refused to carry your stuff in her store. Doesn’t sound like much of a friend.”

“You’re not the best authority on what a friend does, Bianca. Besides, we both know that Shelly wasn’t the one who made that decision.”

There’s a slight flinch that gives her away—she was hoping I didn’t know she’d lied and wouldn’t find out.

“I told you Colt didn’t like them.”

“Yes, you did. Thank you for that.”

She opens her mouth, her eyes focused on me, and I think she might be about to break the façade and drop this crazy game. Maybe she’ll tell me that I’m not invited to the wedding anymore, or that I can at least be demoted from maid of honor.

Maybe she’ll say she’s sorry.

Then, from my peripheral vision, I see a woman in an enormous sunhat and a bright orange and yellow kaftan approaching us from the little reception house out front.

I gasp.

It’s Josie the psychic.

Did Leonard invite her back without telling me?

“Um, Bianca,” I start.

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