“She’s a bit of a diva,” he blurts, then looks embarrassed to have admitted that out loud.

“Just a bit,” I say and nudge his foot under the table. “But so are you. You were always the high-maintenance sibling.”

“That is so far from the truth.”

I laugh. “No, that’s how it is in my mind. Diva or not, Danielle seems great.”

“She is. I wish you got to know her more. Maybe you guys could go out or something. Have some sister-in-law bonding time.”

I have to work to keep my face neutral. “Yeah, maybe. That’d be fun.” I push my hair over my shoulder. “Is she always like this or is the diva-ness an offshoot from being a bridezilla?”

Jake laughs. “Bridezilla. She likes things to go as planned.” He shrugs. “It’s her day. You know I don’t care about weddings and whatnot. But I want to give her this, make her happy, ya know?”

“Don’t make me cry,” I say with a smile. Really, though, I’m so proud of Jake for growing up and changing from pain-in-the-ass younger brother to a man. Someone walks over to the mimosa bar and begins setting up. “Oh, booze!” I say, perking up. “Can the husband-to-be score me a mimosa, hold the OJ?”

“You just want a glass of champagne?”

“I do. You know I don’t like orange juice.”

He puts his hands on the table to stand. “I’ll see what I can do. Then I’m going in to sit at the bar and watch some ESPN until it’s time to open presents.” He makes a face and rolls his eyes.

“Lucky,” I say, even though sports aren’t my thing. “I’ll be here, uh, sitting and having fun.”

He smiles and shakes his head. “Be a good sport.”

“I think I am.”

Jake goes over to the little bar, talks to the lady behind it, turns to me and shakes his head. Dammit. I lean back in the chair and look around the garden. Other than the creepy statue, everything is perfect. Flowers in full bloom outline the stone patio, and little crystal ornaments glisten in the sunlight on the surrounding trees. It looks like something out of a fairytale, and I kind of love it.

Weddings are all about coming together and celebrating love. They should make me happy, right? I let out a sigh. So why do they make me feel so lonely?

I get up and ask Danielle if there’s anything else she needs me to do—there isn’t—and then wander around until Erin gets here. I help her carry in the surprisingly heavy cake and set it on the table at the front of the banquet room. The event planner swoops in and puts decorations and candles on the table, giving it the “finishing touches” that it requires.

Erin and I sit in the back, chatting and watching everyone buzz about. Soon, family and friends filter in and the party gets started. I come back to my table with a plate full of appetizers and another mimosa, sitting next to Erin and across from my grandma and a few cousins.

“How’s work?” my grandma asks.

“It’s good,” I say and hope she doesn’t ask me what I do again. I tried explaining what an internet browser is to her before and that convo only ended in confusion and frustration. “Keeps me busy, but I like it.”

“That’s good, honey. And how’s that guy you were dating, Mike? Or Matt?”

“Mike,” I say and internally shutter. “We’re not together anymore.”

“Oh, what a shame,” my grandma says. “He was such a nice guy. But you’ll find someone else, someone better.”

“I’m sure I will.” I flick my eyes to Erin. She picks up her glass and smirks.

“Can I ask what happened?” my grandma asks.

“We just weren’t compatible,” I say, making Erin snicker into her mimosa. Grandma was right about one thing: Mike is a nice guy. But he has particular sexual interests that I just couldn’t deal with. I need a drink just thinking about it, and feel the need to hide my feet under the chair cover.

Mike is nice all right, but he has a foot fetish. His dick spent more time rubbing against the soles of my feet than it did actually inside me, blow jobs included. I gave it my all, kept my toenails manicured and polished, and went months without any actual penetration before I called it quits.

“Good thing you found that out before you got in too deep,” my grandma says.

“Yes,” I say and take another drink. Though there was little getting in deep with Mike. “It’s a good thing for sure.”

The event planner calls everyone’s attention, and we start playing the typical bridal shower games. Not knowing Danielle, I think it’s safe to say I lost.

Once the shower ends, we help my brother and Danielle pack everything up to take back to their little house by the water. Danielle doesn’t officially live with Jake yet, and she tries to pass off as a virgin to her parents and my own, but I know my brother and know he wouldn’t stay in a relationship if he wasn’t getting some. Because he’s a pig like that. Then again, I wouldn’t stay in a relationship like that either.

Erin stays for dinner at my parent’s house, and we spend the rest of the night sketching out our costume ideas and ordering materials online. I hug her and my family goodbye, take one last look at the remaining twilight glistening off the lake, and get in my car to start the drive home, reminding myself not to speed. I have Mr. Silent Knight and a DVR’d episode of Game of Thrones waiting for me, after all.

*

“You should dress up like this more often,” Cameron says, scrolling through Facebook. “You’re hot.”

I look up from the computer and make a face. “Would you pay me more if I dressed up?”

He raises his eyebrows. “No, but I—”

“Then it’s not worth it.” I quickly type out a code, press enter, then save my progress. “What do you think?” I ask and push my feet against the floor, causing my rolling chair to scoot away from the desk. I yawn and grab my coffee at the last minute, before I’m too far to reach it. It’s Monday morning. I need all the coffee I can get today. Cameron leans in, clicking through the website.

“It looks great! Way better than what the client paid for,” he only half jokes. “Seriously. You’re good, Lissy.”

“Thanks. And really, it was easy.”

“I don’t know why you’re here,” he says quietly. “As much as I don’t want to lose you, I feel like you’re wasting your talents here.”

I shrug off the compliment. “When the CIA seeks me out to be part of a top-secret hacker group, I’ll quit.”

Cameron rolls his eyes. “Why don’t you apply? You don’t have to be kidnapped in a black windowless van to get a job with the government, you know.”

“I do,” I say. “And I’ve looked into it. I’ll think about it.” I’ve opened the online application many times. Not just the CIA either. The FBI or Homeland Security would work too. And I’m sure there were other even more secret groups out there too. I wouldn’t exactly be Black Widow, but fighting cybercrime would be badass enough for me.

“So,” I say with a sigh. “Do I have to go to that appointment now?”

Cameron checks the time. “You got some time. What do you want for lunch? Thai food?”

I smile. “Aww, you know me so well.”

“More than I wish I did,” he shoots back. “Your usual?”

I nod and log onto my company email to message the art director about the garden website. Assuming he approves the graphics I added this morning, I’m done. I grab my phone and scroll through Pinterest, pinning fan-made memes of my favorite shows until Cameron texts me to tell me lunch is here.

No one really cares that I’m friends with the boss, but Cam worries about his boss coming down hard on him for being so casual with me. There are no official policies against it, but it’s “frowned upon” by the guys upstairs. Whatever. Buying me lunch as a thank you is harmless, if you ask me. I sit in the breakroom, half paying to the Steve Wilkos show as I eat my spicy noodles until I have to go.

I tell the people at On Star the address and get directions sent over, then drive halfway across town to a fancy art gallery, owned by a Mr. Hartford. I park and pull down the mirror, running my hands through my hair, which had gotten messy from the wind blowing through the open windows.