Page 3 of Last Night Was Fun

That’s the best bird-band pun you could come up with?

List me three better ones. I’ll wait.

Beak-182, Bird Eye Blind, Cheep Trick.

She glared at her phone but couldn’t help smiling, not wanting to admit how impressed she was he’d come up with a response so quickly.

Okay fine. Good work.

Thank you. You’re kind of strange, Bird Girl.

I take that as a compliment.

I meant it as one?

Well thank you. And if I’m going to be Bird Girl, then I’m saving you as Axe Murderer in my contacts. That way, the cops can trace back to you when they find my body.

Solid plan.

Thank you, I agree.

Bird Girl?

Yeah?

I’m not going to murder you.

You certainly have a way with words. Is that what you said to Lacey last night before she fake numbered you?

She thought she could feel him cringing through her screen, and it made her bite at the smile pulling her lips.

Okay, well, I think that’s enough humiliation for one day. Thanks for the chat. If you hear news later of a man feeding himself to the sharks because he killed two dates in under twelve hours, it was me.

Emmy laughed out loud, feeling bad for him.

I didn’t know this qualified as a date, unless you mean you are currently in someone else’s presence and ruining their experience by spending the whole time texting me.

Indeed, I am not. I am alone at home enjoying this fortunate consequence of being fake numbered.

Heat splashed Emmy’s cheeks at the thought he was enjoying the fallout too. It was all very strange, and she had no idea who she was really talking to—a hipster in Pacific Beach, a tech bro in Carlsbad, a pharma exec in his downtown high-rise—but she would have been lying if she didn’t admit the whole incident had brightened her morning. She could hardly feel her cramps anymore.

Well, fwiw, and even though this doesn’t count as a date, you didn’t kill anything here.

No?

No.

?Have a good day, Bird Girl.

Emmy grinned, and despite herself, she really did save his number in her phone under Axe Murderer. With a little smiley face next to it.

Chapter2

On Sunday morning, Emmy found herself in a circle of hell reserved especially for single women of a certain age: in a bridal shop watching her younger sister try on her wedding dress.

Piper looked like a certified cake topper in the beaded ball gown that was, in Emmy’s opinion, more fitting for a black-tie ceremony than a destination wedding in Mexico. But hey, what did she know? Her only knowledge of weddings came from casual glances at the bridal magazines Piper had carted around like survival manuals for the past year and a half. Ever since her fiancé, Ben, had popped the question and sentenced them all to months of minutiae like color palettes, invitation fonts, floral designs,freaking frosting flavors. Until recently, Emmy had no idea one could even weigh in on the color of foil lining an envelope. But Piper’s obsession dated back further than her engagement. Emmy could trace its origins to her childhood bedroom where Piper pinned up cutouts of brides and officiated wedding ceremonies for her dolls. The train had left the station decades ago. The only thing missing was the person who’d stand with Piper at the altar someday. And she’d found herself a prince.

Emmy wished Ben was there in the bridal shop with them to diffuse the imminent tempest she could see brewing in her sister’s face because her dress’s hemline wasn’t hitting her feet right, but of course Ben couldn’t see his future bride in her gown before the big day. So it was only Emmy, Bridezilla, their mother, and Natasha, a sprite of a woman fluttering around fluffing Piper’s skirt and plying them all with champagne.