Page 127 of You're so Bad

She shrugs and then laughs. “For the cake, not Bianca. But I’m flexible.”

I open the door just as Bianca’s rounding up for another knock, and she nearly hits me in the face.

“Good to see you too,” I mutter.

Her gaze skates from me to Nana, who’s still cackling with the knife in her hand.

“Hi, Constance,” Bianca says, unflustered.

“Always a pleasure to see you,dear,” she says with a grin that clearly saysgo fuck yourself, then disappears into the kitchen.

Bertie paws at Bianca’s leg for pets, the little traitor, and she bends and scratches her ear. There’s something different about her today—her ponytail is off center, and she’s wearing a T-shirt and jean shorts, the kind of outfit I haven’t seen her in since her pompom business got big.

“Not for nothing, Bee,” I say, “don’t you know the meaning of the word ‘no’?”

She looks up and gives me a contrite smile. “I think we both know the answer to that.”

I’m thrown by this evidence of self-reflection, although I’m pretty sure it’ll last only however long this momentary crisis of confidence does.

“Can we sit out on the porch for a minute?” Bianca asks.

“Sure, but I’ve got plans soon.”

She nods, and I follow her out front.

We both sit, but she’s in no hurry to speak, and I’m not in the mood to oblige her. “I’m too tired to pretend to be polite. What the fuck do you want?”

She snorts, which is beautifully inelegant and the kind of thing I would do, then says, “I think I let all of this get a little out of hand.”

“What? The wedding? Your vendetta against me?”

Surprise flickers in her eyes, probably because we’ve both been dancing around it, refusing to engage, and I here I am, pulling the rabbit out of the hat.

“It’s not…”

“Please, Bee,” I say. “You asked me to be your maid of honor. You’ve arranged most of the events leading up to the wedding at my favorite places and have gone out of your way to make sure I’m as uncomfortable as possible. I mean, you’re getting married on my birthday, for Christ’s sake, and don’t tell me it’s just because that was the only date available. We both know it’s not true. Now, you’re telling me my boyfriend can’t come with me.” He can’t anyway, as he’s currently in jail, but that’s none of her business. “What’s your endgame? What do you get out of making me feel like shit? Do you want me to explode at you? Will that make you feel like you’re better than me?”

I catch the neighbor openly watching us, and I wave. She scowls and returns to her sweet tea.

“I…”

To my consternation, Bianca starts crying. I don’t want to comfort her—she’s been an absolute beast—but I challenge anyone to try not to comfort someone who’s sobbing on their porch.

I put a hand on her arm. “It’s okay, Bee.”

“Is it?”

“No, not really. But everything seems to be going well for you, so I’m not clear on why you’re crying.”

“I…I’ve been awful to you. You’re the only real friend I’ve ever had.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Bianca, I don’t know how to break it to you, but we’re not friends anymore.”

“Because I’m marrying Colter?”

“Because you slept with him while we were still dating and lied about it. Because you and Colter convinced Shelly I didn’t want my stuff in her shop. Because you’ve gone out of your way to make me miserable.” I pick a bit of dog fur off my yoga pants. “You changed after your business got successful.”

“I…” She swallows. “I was jealous of you.”

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