Page 114 of My Killer Blind Date

I love you.

My entire body tingles, momentarily washing over me like a magical anesthetic.

Did he mean it? Was he in control of all his faculties? Does the truth come out when you think you’re going to die? Or do all the dramatic feelings just make you spout out random shit?

‘Um … so …’ I give him a significant look.

He lowers his chin to give me a long look. ‘What?’

‘Last night, when … you know. Things were crazy. Do you remember saying …?’

He squints his eyes, and I can see he is not tracking.

‘Sorry, what part of last night …’

Now it’s my turn to squint at him. Is he pretending not to remember?

No, I decide. He genuinely has no idea what came out of his mouth. To be fair, he was drugged, woke up briefly in the van and then Zoe knocked him unconscious again. There wasn’t a lot of time to get his thoughts in order or engage his long-term memory systems.

Anyway, it’s totally fine if he didn’t mean it. We’ve only known each other for … how many weeks? Erm, not many. It is way too early for the L-word.

‘You know?’ I say, waving a hand. ‘Never mind. Not important.’

‘I don’t believe you.’ He pauses. ‘Maybe you can tell me later.’

‘OK,’ I say, and dangle a hand over the bed. He takes it, threads his fingers through and squeezes.

Chapter Thirty-nine

George’s wedding day, exactly one week later, dawns sunny and breezy and perfect. When I arrive via city bus bright and early for hair and makeup at the Yacht Club on Monroe overlooking the harbor, George happens to be emerging from her car at the same time.

‘Oh my God, it’s so good to see you out of a hospital gown,’ she says, relinquishing her keys to the parking valet and striding toward me as the brisk wind off the lake blows her hair back. I open my arms, letting the garment bag with my bridesmaid’s dress slump to the sidewalk, and we clutch each other. I was discharged Wednesday, and even though we saw each other last night at the rehearsal dinner, George was running around trying to solve some family drama and we barely spoke.

‘So good to see you,’ I say.

She sways me from side to side. ‘Can I just say something? Fuck.’

‘Ditto.’

‘I’m still honestly in shock about everything which is weird because I thought I was unshockable.’

‘You saved my life,’ I say into her shoulder, squeezing her extra tight. ‘I owe you forever.’

‘Love that for me,’ she jokes, but when she pulls out of the hug, her eyes are serious. She places her hands on my shoulders. ‘Hey. What happened last week was absolutely bonkers crazy, but we survived, and we’ll keep surviving. And I’m here for it all. The tears, the long talks, all that shit.’ Her lips twist. ‘At least once the wedding drama is over. And as long as there’s a good Pinot Grigio on hand.’

‘Thanks, babe.’ I suck in a breath. ‘Today, let’s keep the focus on you, though, ’kay? You’re getting married!’

George puts a hand to her mouth. ‘I’m getting married! Fuck!’

‘Any last-minute concerns? Cold feet? If you need to make an escape, I’m your girl.’

Her eyes soften. ‘No concerns. Let’s do this.’

Then we squee and jump like two middle schoolers.

After that, it’s a flurry of preparations. The other bridesmaids arrive, and just like last night, they carefully avoid any questions directed at me about everything that’s just gone down, even though they have to be dying of curiosity. I’m pretty sure George gave them firm instructions not to say a word – and I appreciate that. Today, I just want to stay in the moment.

The makeup artist does miracles with my various cuts and bruises in their various states of healing and discoloration, the hairdresser sweeps my hair into a flawless updo and all of us cry when George puts on her wedding gown.