16. Jo

Playlist: Anything But Me | MUNA

I look around the restaurant, at the bridal shower I’ve put my blood, sweat, and tears into putting together for Kelsey and Becky.

I hate it.

At first when they’d started talking about having a joint shower and their initial visions, I’d noticed a lot of similarities to the shower Kelsey and I planned for ourselves.

But then I pulled out “aesthetic queer celebration” out of my ass as a theme and they ate it right up.

It’s so fucking ugly.

The center pieces are gerbera daisies, monochrome for each table. That part isn’t too bad. What has me cringing is the pastel rainbows making it look like a baby nursery, and the rainbow layered mimosas whose colors blend together in half the time it takes to make them.

“Jo!” I turn and see McKenna, Kelsey’s best friend and sorority sister waving at me. My stomach sinks. McKenna is Kelsey’s maid of honor, and was supposed to fulfill that role at our wedding, too.

“Hey,” I say uncomfortably.

“It’s wonderful to see you,” she tells me, running her hazel eyes down my body. “I haven’t seen you since, what? Your engagement…uh. I mean, dinner. At the steakhouse?”

“Probably.” My entire body is so tense that if I tip over, I’m shattering into a million pieces.

“I was so sad things didn’t work out between you and Kels,” she continues, not noticing my discomfort.

“Yeah.” I look nervously around the hideous room, my eyes landing on Hunter, who’s taking a picture of the presents that are beginning to pile up. “But everything works out for the best. Kelsey has Becky, and I have Hunter.”

McKenna stares at me blankly, tilting her head to the side. Her platinum waves move with her. “Hunter?”

“Hun!” I call, waving her over frantically. This is our first test. Not only do we have to sell it to Kelsey and Becky, but we have to sell it to their families and friends, too.

Hunter comes over, a pageant perfect smile plastered on her face. “Snookums!” she squeals as I wrap an arm around her and pull her into me. I press a kiss to her temple, inhaling the sweet smell of her shampoo.

“Hey, Hun,” I say, forcing myself to pull away. It’s disconcerting how safe Hunter feels. “This is McKenna, Kelsey’s maid of honor.”

Hunter beams at a stunned McKenna as they shake hands. “It’s great to meet you, darlin’!”

“I’m sorry,” McKenna says, looking between Hunter and I after dropping her hand. “I didn’t realize you’d moved on so quickly.” Her voice is degrees colder from the warm tone she’d initially spoken to me in, like I’ve wronged her somehow.

“Kelsey did,” Hunter says, eyes narrowing. “I’m not sure why you thought Jo wouldn’t.”McKenna looks taken aback by Hunter, the same way I constantly feel around her. “I didn’t mean any offense. I just know Jo was devastated by the breakup.”

She’s not wrong, obviously, but I don’t like knowing that Kelsey is telling her people that.

Hunter slips her hand into mine and squeezes tightly. It feels like she’s transferring her gumption and courage to me.

“I’m not here as a guest, McKenna,” I say firmly, proud that there’s only a slight tremor in my voice. “I’m the event coordinator, and if you’ll excuse me, I want to make sure Hunter gets a picture of the centerpieces.”

I pull Hunter away, towards an empty table five.

“Christ. So Kelsey’s people are just…other Kelseys?” Hunter asks, squatting to get the perfect angle .

“Pretty much,” I agree, folding my arms over my chest. “Wait until you meet her Grammy. She’s homophobic as shit and cried at our engagement party.”

“Lovely,” Hunter says drily, before standing again. “It’s beautiful, Jo.”

“What?”

“The event. It’s really on theme.”

She won’t even meet my eye, the fibber.

“Shut up, I know it’s ugly as shit,” I snicker, nudging her with my shoulder. “Kelsey thought she was stealthy and suggested ideas we’d planned for our shower at first and I had to get her to drop that somehow, so I suggested gay aesthetic. It looks like Target during Pride Month.”

Hunter barks out a loud laugh that gathers the attention of Kelsey’s mom. I smile nervously and raise a hand in greeting.

“Oh, god. It’s really…uh. Something. You nailed the theme.”

“Thanks. They wouldn’t let me hire a drag queen. Said it wasn’t ‘aesthetic enough,’” I say, using finger quotes.

“How the fuck is a drag queen not aesthetic enough for a gay themed wedding shower?” Hunter looks appalled.

“Excuse me!”

I wince. Hunter had the awful, no good fortune of saying that as Kelsey’s grammy was hobbling by with her walker.

“Oh, sorry, ma’am. I was just—”

“Aren’t you the girl that was going to marry my granddaughter?” Grammy interrupts, narrowing her eyes at me. Kelsey, who’s talking to another guest, overhears, and sends a panicked looked towards us.

“Nope,” I say quickly. “I’m the event coordinator.”

For the remainder of the shower, person after person from Kelsey’s life asks variations of the same question.

“You look familiar. Have we met before?”

“You and Kelsey were together, weren’t you?”

“What happened between you and Kelsey?”

And each time, Hunter shows up panicking over some absurd, made up emergency that immediately needs my attention.

“Jo, do you have the games?” McKenna asks after brunch has been served and cleared.

“Yep.” I dig through my bag and hand her the games Becky and Kelsey had asked me to create.

“Thanks for doing this,” McKenna says, looking intently at the games in her hands.

I force a smile. “No worries.”

She eyes me suspiciously, like she’s trying to understand something, before walking towards the sound system and taking the microphone.

“Okay!” she says, voice echoing in the room and a bright smile plastered on her face. “We’re playing our first game of the day, and I’m going to need the brides to come up to the front!”

I watch from the bar as Hunter intently follows Kelsey and Becky with her lens, capturing what I’m sure are beautiful pictures of terrible people in love.

McKenna explains the objective of the game: the brides answered questions about themselves and now will guess the right answers for their partner.

“Oh, this is going to be too easy,” Kelsey giggles, crossing her ankles.

“First question: What is your fiance’s favorite cocktail?” McKenna asks. Hunter crosses the back of the room, joining me at the bar as the brides scribble their answers on white boards.

“I want a drink,” she whispers to me. “Everybody here is awful .” She slips her hand into mine and squeezes, resting her cheek on my shoulder.

“You can drink, if you want to. It’ll give the photos a lovely artistic blur.”

“They don’t deserve me at my artistic blur.”

My cheeks ache from how big my smile is. “They don’t deserve you at all. I hope they realize how lucky they are that you’re working with them.”

I can feel her eyes on me, but I’m too nervous to look at her. That was personal, honest in a way I know she feels, too. She brings a vulnerable side out of me and I should hate it.

I hate that I don’t hate it.

“They’re lucky to have you, too, Giovanna.” Her voice is as soft as cashmere, and covers the buzzy noisiness of the room like a cozy blanket.

My breath catches in my throat and I shakily inhale. I don’t know that anyone outside my family has believed in me the way Hunter so evidently does. It feels like magic.

“Um, no, tiramisu is not the right answer.” Mckenna’s voice pulls me out of my trance. I’m not sure what question they’re on, but they’re at least a few in.

“What? No, tiramisu is definitely your favorite dessert, Becks,” Kelsey laughs, poking at Becky’s calf with the toe of her heeled pump. “Remember when we went to that Italian place and you kept saying all the reasons your mom’s is better?”

“You know what, I think I need that drink,” Hunter says, spinning to face the bar. “Hi, can I have one of those gay-ass mimosas please?”

“Nope, I’m a creme brulee girl,” Becky corrects, laughing nervously. “That’s why I brought you to that French place on our first date.”

“Oh,” Kelsey blinks, looking confused. “That…sorry. I must be thinking of someone else.”

“Mmhmm.” Becky stares at the ground.

“Okay, next question,” McKenna says nervously. “What is your fiancée’s favorite movie?” There’s silence as the brides write on their respective white boards. “Becky?”

“Breakfast at Tiffany’s,” Becky says, spinning her board around to show her answer.

“Correct!” McKenna cheers. “Kelsey?”

“Miss Congeniality.” Kelsey spins her board around to face the guests.

My stomach drops, and the hair on my arms stands up. What are the odds Becky also loves my favorite movie?

“Sweet baby Jesus, this is disgusting.” Hunter gags after taking a sip of her mimosa. “Can I just have the bottle of prosecco?”

“Um, no. That’s not my favorite movie.” Becky’s voice is tight and clipped, the same tone it is when she’s talking with an inept employee she’s planning on firing. I don’t blame her. I feel like people are turning to look at me, and I wish I could do something, anything, to turn this trainwreck around.

As much as I despise this event, it’s going to fund my dreams. I have to make it work.

“No, it is. You laughed so hard at…”

“Wait–” Hunter whispers, the prosecco bottle halfway to her mouth. “Isn’t that your favorite movie?”

“Shh,” I hiss quietly. “Please don’t make this worse.”

Hunter shakes her head slightly, then tips the bottle back for a swig. “Bless her heart.”

“Miss Congeniality isn’t my favorite movie, Kelsey,” Becky says, voice increasing in volume.

“It’s one of them, right? You kept laughing at…”

“I think you’re thinking of another coworker you fucked,” Becky snaps.

A disconcerting silence falls over the room, and it feels like everyone’s eyes are on me.

I want to throw up.

“I need a minute.” Becky’s eyes are still fixed on the floor as she gets to her feet and speed walks to the exit.

Hunter pushes the bottle into my lap. “I think you need this more than I do, Snookums.”