Page 113 of The Secret Bridesmaid
“You have too many,” she says, with a sly smile. “We’d be here all night.”
WHAT IS GOING ON?
Who is this person and where is the real Cordelia? Is she seriously makingjokeswith me now? I need to pull back. I need to rein it in. I need to stop responding to her. I need to stop being so friendly. I am not her friend: I’m a professional bridesmaid who has been hired by her mother to—
“I’m sorry,” she says suddenly, tapping the end of her cigarette into an ashtray but looking up at me.
“Huh?” I reply intelligently.
“I’m sorry,” she repeats, “for the way I’ve treated you.”
I don’t know what to say. I’m still unsure as to whether this is real or whether it’s a huge prank and some actor is standing nearby ready to throw a vat of custard over my head.
“I mean it,” she continues. “You’ve made the wedding a lot better and I’m grateful.”
I stare at her, stunned.
She laughs. “I’m being serious. I really don’t like apologizing, either. But you’re right, you deserve an apology. You’ve worked hard and been really thoughtful about certain things when you could have walked away. I really appreciate everything that you’ve—”
“Are you about to fire me?” I blurt out.
“What?” She frowns at me.
“It sounds like you’re about to fire me.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“Yeah, it does. You’re making things right by apologizing, going on about how I’ve helped so much… It feels like you’re tying up loose ends.”
“Jesus,” she says, exhaling a plume of smoke. “Why is your brain so busy overthinking everything all the time?”
“I don’t overthink things… I don’t think. OK, maybe I do.”
“Look, are you going to accept my apology or not?”
I cross my arms, still trying to rub away the goose bumps. I consider telling her that I don’t accept her apology, but she can rest assured that it won’t affect my work ethic. She really has put me through a lot,butI can tell she means it. I can tell she’s sorry.
“Yeah,” I say eventually. “OK.”
“Good.” She puts her cigarette out in the ashtray. “Now, let’s go inside before you freeze to death.”
“Why are you apologizing here? Today, I mean,” I ask, stopping her as she heads back toward the door.
She turns to face me. “I wanted to apologize in person so you’d know I mean it. And it took me a few days to get over my pride.”
“Oh.” I hesitate, taken aback by her honesty. “OK.”
“You really don’t have to overthink this,” she says, giving me a knowing look. “I wanted to say sorry to you. That’s it.”
“And what’s going to happen now?”
“Right now? We’ll go back into the party and have to put up with all these dreadful people telling us about their Christmas plans in Barbados. The canapés are good, though.”
“No, I mean what’s going to happen with the bridesmaid stuff? Are you still going to try to make me quit?”
“No. I’m over it.”
“Really? Promise?”
