Or...I gritted my teeth. Had they done it because they’d pitied me? Like the waitress, could they somehow detect that I couldn’t afford the meal? That I was dependent on the man I’d just rejected, and had no one else to turn to?
Either way, they were gone, and I could neither ask them nor thank them.
With one last passing glance at their table, I picked up my credit card and headed home to face Asher.
Chapter 1
-Anna-
Four months later
Who the hell was calling me at 1am? I blearily reached under my pillow and pulled out my phone, which had been buzzing incessantly for the past two minutes. The name on the screen, Cassie Green, surprised me because:
I hadn’t spoken to Cassie in years;
She knew from our four years as college roommates that she should never call me this late. I’m bad when I’m hangry, but I’m especially bad when I’m slangry.
I swiped the screen and slipped the phone under my face. “Ugh, Cass, why are you calling me so late?” The words were nearly unintelligible through my mega-yawn. I considered greeting her with the usual, hi, how are you, we haven’t spoken in forever...but not now. Not at 1am on a Monday.
“Girl, you have not responded to my wedding invite. Are you coming? Yes? Good.”
“Wait, what? What wedding invite?” I frowned, trying and failing to recall an invitation. I didn’t remember receiving anything from Cassie, other than her annual Christmas cards.
“The Christmas card! It had all the details about the wedding on it. Did you get it?” What?
“One sec.” Groaning, I rolled onto my belly and switched on my bedside lamp. I yanked open the drawer with all of my sentimental crap in it, then flailed my hand around until I found the card in question.
On one side, Cassie and her boyfriend of five years, Michael, wore matching Santa outfits, though he didn’t have an impractically large diamond on his finger like Cassie did. They were both holding onto their black german shepherd, Frankie, who wore a festive green elf hat, and all three wore giant goofy grins on their faces.
I flipped the card over and read the following:
Wishing you a happy holiday season and a beautiful new year.
Much love from the Green and MacDermott household!
By the way, here’s your fortune for next year:
September 20, 2019
The Vineheartery
Marin County, California
4pm - 10pm
YOU’RE COMING
I snorted. “That’s not a real invite, Cass. But that’s nice that you’re getting married.” I couldn’t quite bring myself to congratulate her. Marriage was a terrifying bullet that I myself had dodged just months ago.
“Yes! In two months! And you’re coming. That’s it.” Her tone brooked no objection.
“Cassie, that’s not how—none of this—is this a prank call?” My tired brain could not even.
“You wish! I’ll email you the official RSVP form, but I wanted your verbal commitment. Your word. Can I count on you to be there?”
“No. Bye.” I prepared to hang up and go back to bed. I’d call her back with regrets and excuses at a sane hour.
“Please, Nana,” she charmingly wheedled, using her personal nickname for me. “I haven’t seen you since college and this is the perfect excuse to get our old crew back together. You didn’t come to Jessa’s or Lisa’s weddings this year, so you have to come to this one.”
Ah, a change in tactics. She was pulling out all the stops, trying her best to confuse and guilt me into attending her wedding. The late call was likely part of it. I lived in New York and she lived in San Francisco, so with the time difference, she’d called me right after I’d fallen asleep, when I was groggiest and my defenses were low. Wily woman.
“Yes, but—”
“It would be so so fun. Like, when will we ever be together like this again?”
“Sure, but I—”
“So you’re coming? Nana, you haven’t even met Michael yet. We’ve been together for FIVE YEARS and you’ve never come to visit. Have you ever even BEEN to San Francisco?”
“Cassie, no, I have—”
“Then you’re coming. You have to. Oh my god, I’m so excited, I’m going to tell the girls! Love you!” She hung up, deaf to my protests. I knew that she wasn’t really that dense, but she was so good at playing it, and I did love her. My life had completely fallen apart in college, and if Cassie hadn’t been there for me every step of the way, things would’ve ended up so much worse than they had. I didn’t want to let her down on what she considered to be her Big Day. And luckily, I did have a few days of vacation available, as well as a tiny bit of savings.
But weddings. Ugh.
Marriage is a trap, and weddings, the ultimate bait, so cleverly crafted by the well-oiled marriage machine. After all, there’s no escaping the propaganda—weddings are all about the photos. There are very few other non-business occasions for which you’d be expected to pay literally thousands of dollars for a photographer. But really, you’re just paying your taxes and doing your patriotic duty, because Uncle Sam (and everyone else in your family) wants you to get married. Keep calm and marry on.
And don’t think that guests are passive participants, either. As a guest, it’s your duty to get into that photobooth, take photos of yourself looking as hot and attractive as you’ll ever get, then spread the images on social media. Look, weddings are fun! Marriage is great! I want one of those!
All. Fake. News.
Even the games they played at weddings, like catching the bouquet or garter, were like sending chain letters out into the crowd, spreading the curse of marriage. Hurrah! You’re next!
No thanks. I’m good.
To be clear, it wasn’t relationships that I railed
