The Paid Bridesmaid(64)

I also spent my day wishing that Camden would call me. Or stop by. I kept an ear out for his door, my gaze drifting repeatedly to our shared wall, but I never heard him return to get ready for the bachelor party.

Deciding this was beyond pathetic, I got ready myself, keeping the bathroom door shut and the fan on. For good measure I turned on some music on my phone just so that I wouldn’t know if he was back.

I picked out my favorite red cocktail dress for the party and was in the midst of putting my hair up when I stopped, almost hearing Camden’s voice telling me to have fun and not take myself so seriously. I could be professional and still have a good time. I wouldn’t need my armor tonight, so I left my hair down.

And if I was going to admit it, I was hopeful that his quarter had landed on heads and that I’d see him after and he’d get to appreciate it.

I made my way down to the bar and saw one of the camera crews in a corner, talking among themselves. I found Krista sitting in a chair near the door, waiting for me.

She grinned when she saw me. “Your hair’s down! It looks pretty. You did that for a boy.”

Feeling embarrassed at being caught out, I said, “I did not. I’m not even seeing Cam—any boys tonight.”

“You almost said his name!” she told me in a singsong voice. “Because you like him and yes, you did do your hair that way for him.”

“What are you drinking?” I asked, wanting to change the subject.

“The bartender got out champagne.” She held up her flute.

A waitress came over and asked me what I’d like, and I told her I was fine. I’d order something when the other girls appeared.

It took a few minutes, but Mary-Ellen and Sadie came down together, their arms linked. There were hugs and air kisses exchanged and the manager of the bar approached us, leading us to the private table they’d set up for us. It had a bunch of finger foods—things like kalua pork sliders, shoyu chicken kebabs, grilled pineapple.

It was delicious and I didn’t even care that somebody was filming us eating. This food was worth it.

The waitress brought over a tray with more champagne flutes. To my surprise, Sadie took one. “It’s a special occasion!” she declared. “Only don’t let me get too far gone. My wedding is tomorrow.”

“How do you define too far?” I asked. I was happy to be her babysitter tonight if that’s what she needed.

“If I start dancing on tables, definitely cut me off,” she said, reaching to clink her glass with Mary-Ellen’s and Krista’s.

Krista held up her glass for the toast and said, “May we have so much fun that we don’t even notice how annoyed the other bar patrons are!”

I’d thought the bar would shut down for the evening, but it was still open to other guests. Given the looks I was seeing already, we probably were going to annoy our fair share of people.

“Can I get a soda? Something lemon-lime?” I asked the server and she promised to be right back with it. I figured it was better to order a drink that had no chance of being accidentally spiked.

“Do you know how bad those are for you?” Mary-Ellen asked. “Artificial sweeteners eat holes in your brain. It’s basically death in a can.”

The fact that she said this unironically while munching on buffalo wings and potato skins and drinking champagne as fast as they could bring it to her was not lost on me. The server returned with my soda and I carefully drank the entire thing in front of Mary-Ellen, just to spite her. It was a spite Sprite.

As we ate, at the director’s urging, Sadie recounted how she’d met Dan in Rome. He’d been there for a tech conference and she was there to do a photo shoot and they met at a restaurant after she dropped her napkin and he returned it. They spent the rest of the night talking and walking the romantic, moonlit streets of Rome.

“I knew that night I was going to marry him,” she told us and Mary-Ellen sighed so loudly and wistfully that I wondered if I should tell the bartender to slow down on serving her.

Sadie shared more stories about their courtship, how he’d proposed to her by flying her back to Italy and asking her to be his wife on the Spanish Steps, which was where they’d first kissed.

She had gone over this information when she hired me, but it had been matter-of-fact then. It was like I was seeing a different side of her—she was so unguarded and free, and obviously in love. Again I felt that pang, that sensation like I was missing out on something big.

After drinking a sixteen-ounce glass of soda as quickly as I had, I needed to use the restroom. I excused myself and stayed longer in the bathroom than was strictly necessary.

I glanced up at my reflection as I washed my hands, not able to come up with a reasonable explanation for my current feelings. I’d been to dozens of weddings and had seen so many people happily in love who promised to spend the rest of their lives together. I’d never felt like this before, like I’d lost a limb and wanted it back. How could I be missing something I’d never had?

And why did Camden’s face keep popping into my head?

“You’ve got a job to do,” I reminded myself, reaching for the paper towels. It was time to stop throwing my private pity party and get out there and support Sadie.

I walked back into the bar and smiled when I saw how much fun Sadie and the bridesmaids were having. They looked happy. My shoulder twinged slightly, probably from my purse pulling on it, and I switched the strap over to the other side. I rubbed my shoulder slightly, my mind drifting back to when Camden had massaged it, and the reason he’d told me that he’d had to stop.