Page 110 of How to Ruin a Wedding

“You had me—all of us—fooled,” Valerie says. “It’s hard to tell if this is real, because you’ve already proven to be a good actress.”

“I wish I could prove it to you in a way you’d believe,” I tell her.

She shuts her eyes, tilts her head in a stretch, and then opens them again. “John isn’t who you or Anders thought he was.” She looks down, swirls my latte, looks up at me. “And Anders finally admitted that,” she adds. “He came over after everything, said he was wrong about trying to intervene. I know he projected all his own stuff onto John because he didn’t want me to get hurt again. But he gets it now. He sees that we love each other deeply.”

My chest tightens. “That’s good. I’m glad.”

“I know he’s not what anyone saw for me,” she says. “And yeah, John made that mistake with the money. But it wasn’t anything like what Nick did. Everyone screws up. John just does it while meaning well. And that counts for something. He’s naive, but it just makes me want to protect him more. And I’m emotionally all over the place, and he is always patient with his care. It’s a messy love, but it’s both our lives to sloppily go through together. I don’t need a perfect partner. I just need genuine love.”

She goes on. “I know he makes mistakes, but when Nick hurt me, it was on purpose. And there’s so much more to John that his mistakes feel like nothing, in the grand scheme of things.”

My years in a lower tax bracket will never let me dismiss a million dollars lost as “nothing,” but it’s not my relationship. It’s not my broken piece to put back together.

“You’re right.”

“I am,” she says. “And you and Anders were wrong.” She cocks her head. “You’re alike, but different. Anders wants to take care of everyone, but acts like he isn’t trying to. He wants to be invisible—on the sidelines, watching the people he loves be happy. You’re similar, but you want to be visible. You don’t mind getting involved, getting your hands dirty, being seen trying. You’re both pains in the ass.”

I laugh, then slap a hand over my mouth. I’m not sure it’s something I’m allowed to do right now.

Valerie laughs too—then frowns, like she hates that she let it slip.

“Look, you saw my shitty bridesmaids. You know I don’t have too many good friends. And unfortunately, I like you too.”

The present tense makes hope perk up in my bones. I sit up straighter, leaning forward.

“You said you wish you could prove you’re telling the truth. Do you mean that?”

“I do. Yes. Of course.”

“Okay.” She links her fingers together. “I’ve postponed the wedding. Not because I don’t love John—or vice versa—but if everyone around me is nervous, everyone who’s seen me through some dark times, then I want to ease some of the worry. This fall—I’m getting married. For real this time.”

“Okay.”

“Will you help plan it?” she asks, and it’s the last thing I expected. “If you want to prove you’re a good friend, then repair what you broke. Do the opposite of what brought you here. Help me get married. For real.”

“I’ve never planned a wedding before,” I stammer.

“But you’ve planned how to ruin one,” Valerie points out. “So you know the ins and outs. You’ve been trying to wreck weddings every which way—you probably know more than you think.”

I chew my bottom lip, trying to formulate a response—trying to process my workload—when she adds, “Is it Anders? Do you not want to be in Charleston?”

I don’t respond. I haven’t nailed down what my future looks like. I have a general idea, but I don’t want to get my hopes up.

She takes my silence as an admission.

“He’s not even going to be here much. He’s going back to the office in New York for a while—thinks he wants to get away from us, or give us a break from him, not sure. You’ll barely see him. Honestly, we’ve seen him more with you here. He usually works, travels—this is the longest he’s let us have him.”

“That’s not it,” I finally say, a flood of emotions rushing through me. “He’s not the problem. I—I actually have plans that’ll keep me here. In Charleston. But nothing’s for sure yet.”

“What is this, hide and seek?” Valerie asks. “You come here. He goes there. Are you purposely avoiding him?”

I shake my head. “I don’t want to avoid Anders.”

“But you won’t see him?”

“I’m not sure how.”

“I’m offended you found me more approachable than him,” she says. “But, Lucy, Anders is doing what he always does—putting himself on the sidelines. I don’t think he belongs there. I think you should pull him onstage, because he doesn’t know how to get there himself.”