I take the lead.

“Yes. Absolutely. Zeke’s story is a great fairy tale.”

“Yeah, mate, well… some fairy tales can come true.”

Carrie’s phone buzzes. She looks at it. “Jenny. Begging me not to back out of the wedding.” Uncertain, she gives me a look I can’t decipher. My bones feel bigger. The air feels thinner. Her eyes beckon, asking me to save her.

“Tell her you met someone,” I reply back, confident and strong. “He was right under your nose all along.”

“But you’re half a foot taller than me,” she points out.

Zeke throws up his hands. “You two are hopeless.” He punches me in the gut. I tighten, catching the blow, pretending it doesn’t hurt. “We’re two minutes late for that divorce party.” He flashes Carrie a thousand watt smile. “Think about it. And if you don’t want Ryan, I can always change my plans.”

I grab his arm and drag him down the hall. I can drown him in one of the 55-gallon drums of massage oil, right? Justifiable homicide.

Chapter 7

CARRIE

Left turn into the drive, between stone pillars with a carved sign: Chatham Beach Inn. Underneath the logo, the words “An Anterdec Property” are painted in small, discreet letters. My prehistoric Hyundai seems to take a deep breath before climbing the hill. The air conditioning died about an hour into the trip. Normally that wouldn’t be a crisis at this time of year, but this has turned out to be that strange fall weekend when it’s eighty degrees.

It’s a spectacular Cape Cod October day, but Jenny can’t be happy; her gown is heavy white satin.

Angela, a bridesmaid, sits beside me. She’s been navigating since we turned off Route 6.

“I cannot wait to get to my room and take a bath,” she says with a sigh of relief. “We have two hours until Jenny wants to meet with us. When does your boyfriend get here?”

“He’s already here,” I answer.

She looks at me, puzzled. “I thought he was coming later?”

“Oh, right, Ryan!” I say quickly. “Right. He’ll be here later. He couldn’t leave work early.”

“You were so lucky to find a new boyfriend so quickly,” she comments. “Last time I had a breakup, I didn’t have a date for six months. By Month Five, I was rubbing up against doorknobs.”

“Right,” I repeat, quieter this time. “Lucky. I sure am. I’m lucky.”

We pull up to the main entrance. I hand my keys to the valet and open the back of the car to unload our suitcases and the garment bags with our dresses.

The maid of honor outfit isn’t as bad as I feared. In fact, as these things go, it’s pretty great. I could have spent that $350 on other things, like, say, my cellphone bill, but still.

The dress is strapless, knee length, navy blue silk faille. It’s fitted, and the top dips between my breasts. Best of all, it came in Tall sizes, so the waistline is actually in the general vicinity of my waistline. Navy suede strappy heels — four inches — thank God Ryan is tall. Jenny gave us dangly pearl earrings and necklaces as gifts, and she also gave us navy flip flops with silver seashells on them for dancing at the reception.

My suitcase is packed with my own outfit for the rehearsal, and everything else I might need for the weekend. A sweater, jeans, shorts, some tops. The sleepwear choice was harder, considering my roommate. I settled on a silk slip, not too long, not too short.

It’s not like Ryan and I are really together, but you know, I can’t wear pajama bottoms and a baggy t-shirt. Someone might see, and get the wrong idea.

Or the right idea. Whatever.

Angela and I haul our bags out of the car and head into the lobby to the registration desk. We get our keys — our rooms are on the same floor — and turn to look for the elevator. I’m scanning the lobby when I see two very tanned and handsome men coming through the entrance door, wearing white shorts and polo shirts and carrying tennis racquets. They are laughing.

My heart lands in my stomach.

It’s Jamey. And… Devin? No.

Kevin.

I spin around and face the elevator, praying that the doors will open now and swallow me up. Before the new and improved Happy Couple gets over here.

“So, Angela,” I start, “Want to meet up before we meet up with Jenny?” I don’t even know what I’m saying. I am babbling.

Open, please, please open.

The light that shows where the elevator is has not moved. Apparently an entire family is moving in on the third floor.

“Carrie?” I hear behind me, in Jamey’s familiar voice.

It’s showtime.

“Jamey!” My voice reflects nothing but surprise and pleasure. “Oh my gosh, how have you been?” I lean forward and kiss him on both cheeks.

He looks at me a little oddly, but air-kisses me back.

“Um… you remember Kevin?” Jamey asks, eyeing me nervously.

“Of course I remember Kevin! From the map store, right? It is so nice to see you!”

Kevin is having a deer-in-the-headlights moment. Angela is smiling politely, waiting to be introduced.

The elevator door finally opens. The passengers file out and we crowd in.

“This is Angela. She’s a bridesmaid. Angela, this is Jamey and, um, Kevin. Jamey is Jenny’s brother. Kevin is, um, Jamey’s friend.” That all sounds perfectly normal and reasonable. “We’re on the fourth floor,” I add.

“Boyfriend,” Kevin corrects. “I’m Jamey’s boyfriend. We’re on the fourth floor, too.”

“My boyfriend will be here in a few hours,” I announce. “He had to work today. I’m so excited for everyone to meet him. Jamey, you might remember him from O? His name is Ryan. He’s really tall and handsome and has an engineering degree from Cal Tech and we love all the same movies and I can’t wait to see our room, I think it has an ocean view and a huge bed and we’ll probably be late for everything because we just won’t want to leave the room, Ryan just never wants to get out of bed, you know how it is when you’re in love — ”

Everyone is staring at me.

Shut up, Carrie.

Mercifully, the elevator stops and the doors slide open.

Jamey clears his throat. “Well, okay then. What number are we, again, Kevin?”