Page 46 of Dead to Me

China turned in the chair.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“For what?”

I looked at her. China held my gaze for three seconds before looking away. She knew exactly what I meant.

“Milan, I’m not doing this today.”

“Then don’t.”

“I mean it.”

“So do I.”

She stood up. The makeup artist glanced between us before suddenly becoming fascinated with reorganizing her brushes. China lowered her voice.

“You said you were okay.”

“I am.”

“This doesn’t feel like you're okay.”

“That sounds like something you should discuss with a therapist.”

Her jaw tightened.

“You came here angry.”

I gave her a small smile.

“No, China. I came here free.”

Before she could respond, Sierra burst through the bedroom door carrying a bottle of champagne.

“Who wants mimosas?”

The tension faded as the bridesmaids started shouting and laughing. China watched me for a moment, then smiled. Instantly, she was the bride again. I smiled back, stepping into my role as maid of honor. Pretending came naturally to us. Maybe it always had.

For the next hour, I sat getting my hair done while women I hardly knew chatted about relationships, kids, vacations, and work.

No one brought up prison. But I could tell they wanted to. Every time the room went quiet, I saw it in their eyes.

Eventually, Sierra worked up the courage.

“So, Milan.”

China looked at her immediately.

“Sierra.”

“What? I was just going to ask how long Milan is staying.”

Sierra looked at me.

“How long are you staying?”