You're Invited(61)

There was only a small tremble to my voice when I started to speak. “I was just heading—”

“I’ve been thinking about you, you know, since we met the other day.”

I was going to throw up. Oh god, I hope he wasn’t too attached to the shoes he was wearing because they were about to be ruined.

“Y-you were?”

“Yeah. I wanted to tell you that I was right?”

My body felt cold.

“R-right about w-what, exactly?”

“Well.” He reached over and leaned his forearm against the wall, blocking my path. He was too close to me. Dangerously close. I looked around but the corridor was deserted.

“The ending of Game of Thrones, of course. I told you from the start, didn’t I? That she was bound to lose her mind. It’s always the one you suspect the least, after all.”

I was holding my breath. My chest hurt.

“Oh. Yeah. I guess you were right, then.” I couldn’t remember the ending of Game of Thrones, or even having this conversation with him. Neither did I care.

I eyed his arm in front of me again. He’d been working out since we’d ended things. I felt light-headed.

“Anyway, it was just a funny thing I remembered about us and, well, you know, the way things were.” He removed his arm from the wall and took a step closer to me. Close enough that I could smell his aftershave. It wasn’t his usual Polo Blue by Ralph Lauren that I used to buy him, but some other alien scent. It threw me more than his closeness. Maybe even more than this whole wedding. How much of him had changed? The question echoed in my mind yet again. How much had stayed the same?

“I’d better let you go, Ams. Don’t want to keep you away from your party.”

And he turned and left, leaving me there feeling like I had to piece myself back together all over again. No one has ever had this much power over me. No one ever would; I’d make sure of that.

I leaned against the wall—the same wall that Spencer had casually leaned on just moments ago—and tried to steady my breathing.

“You okay?” It was Tehani this time, impeccably balanced on a pair of the highest, pointiest heels I’ve ever seen. I plastered on something that resembled a smile.

“Yes, of course. Thank you.”

“You look like you’ve just seen someone die or something.”

Not someone. Just me. Just me over and over again.

I forced a little laugh, trying to come up with an excuse. I was about to reply when the tall redhead I had seen at the cocktail party raced past both of us.

“Excuse me, ladies,” she called, not looking over as she made her way into the bathroom.

“God, what a bitch.” Tehani giggled before turning back to me. “You sure you’re all right?”

“You know, I think the champagne went straight to my head.”

Tehani rolled her eyes. “It’s the Mo?t, I’m telling you. Always gives me a headache too. I told Amma not to be ridiculous and to serve the Veuve instead, or at least some Dom, you know? But they wanted to save the cases for the actual wedding.” She sighed dramatically.

I just nodded like I knew what she was talking about, the politics of expensive champagne the last thing on my mind.

“Shall I get you some water or something?”

“I’m fine, really.”

“Want to head back inside, then? I have a secret stash of Cristal behind the bar. You should stick to that from now on.”

We made it back to the crowd and Tehani dissolved into it while I continued to float around looking very much like I didn’t belong.

And then, finally, as the orange sunset faded away into an inky purple sky, Kaavi took the microphone and announced that the crowd was making its way down to the beach for the after-party. She bade a pointed good night to her mother—making it clear that the older generation was not welcome anymore—and then half the party took off their heels and traipsed, already unsteady after the many glasses of bubbly, across the hotel to the old wing.

The Mount Lavinia Hotel famously divided itself into two sections, old and new.

The new wing, where we were on the terrace, faced the ocean off a small cliff. The old wing had access to a flat beach, dotted with huts and open marquees, perfect for beachside events.

I joined the girls who were staggering over to the after-party, though I figured this was a lost cause. I’ll just pop my head in, so I could feel like I tried, at least, and call an Uber home. Tomorrow was the Poruwa, which was cutting it super close, but maybe I could catch Kaavi in the morning?

I looked at the time and groaned. 6:43 p.m.

One of the beach huts had been turned into an X-rated dance floor, with inflatable penises hanging from the ceiling. There were squeals and giggles, while a young woman in glasses kept circling the group, reminding everyone to please not take any pictures.

Of course she wouldn’t want any photographs. Bachelorette party pictures of young women being inappropriate were notorious for going viral in Sri Lanka, with plenty members of the older generations shaking their heads and sighing that this is why the rate of divorce was going up. Kaavi could hardly risk such a scandal. I looked around the beach at the other huts, but they were all empty except for the large bonfire that burned a safe distance away. Just like the terrace, the entire beach had been booked out too.

“Tequila shot to enter, biatch!” a girl I had never seen before screamed at me, waving a tray in my face, looking like she’d helped herself to her fair share of shots already.