Page 36 of Enchanted to Meet You

“Oh my God,” I called to Dina, who’d just that moment turned off the water. “Did you see what I got in the mail?”

“No. What?” I heard the hooks on the shower curtain rattle as Dina threw it back and stepped from the tub.

“A wedding invitation.” I found a butter knife and opened the thick, expensive envelope. “Rosalie Hopkins is getting married.”

“Oh, yeah.” Dina appeared in the hallway wearing only two fluffy white towels, one wrapped around her body, the other around her hair. “I forgot to tell you. My mom said she saw Rosalie and her mom at the Westfield Mall in Trumbull last week, and she could have sworn they’d been looking at baby stuff in GapKids.”

“Jesus!” I jumped, both at Dina’s words and the cascade of fake gold rose petals that fell from the envelope when I pulled out the invitation. A confetti bomb. So Rosalie. “How could you not have mentioned that until now?”

“They could have been shopping for a relative.” Dina shook her head as she stared at the mess on the floor. “But now it’s looking like maybe not. What dumbass did Rosalie Hopkins get to knock her up and then agree to marry her?”

I looked at the invitation, which was exactly what I would have expected from Rosalie: extremely proper and stuffy.

Mr. and Mrs. Kenneth Hopkins

request the honor of your presence

at the marriage of their daughter

Rosalie Anne

to

William Robert Walker

Saturday, the twentieth of December

at six o’clock

First Protestant Church

West Harbor, Connecticut

Reception to follow

West Harbor Yacht Club

RSVP

Black Tie

I looked at Dina in astonishment. “Oh my God,” I said, suddenly barely able to breathe. “Billy.”

“No.” Dina snatched the invitation from me. “No way.”

But it was true.

I had to go sit down on the futon (which served as both my bed and our living room couch) because I felt a little light-headed.

“How could he have been so stupid?” Dina raged, still staring down at the invitation.

“It’s Billy,” I murmured. “You know how dumb he is. He never stood a chance once Rosalie decided he was the one she wanted.”

“Yeah, but he could have worn a condom. What’s he going to do now?” she asked. “Drop out of Notre Dame and be Rosalie’s full-time arm candy slash baby daddy?”

“I guess so.” I put my head between my knees, not so much because I was still feeling light-headed, but to avoid having to see evidence of Rosalie’s latest offense—the invitation in Dina’s hands, the fake rose-petal confetti on our floor. Instead, I studied the insoles of my boots.

“Still, you have to admit,” Dina said, “he’ll make a good dad.”