“‘Gemma,’ someone would say.

“‘Right, Gemma, what happened to her, anyway?’

“‘She got even crazier with old age and now she lives alone with her ten cats.’” I conclude my recital. “So yeah, having to crash your wedding saved me from making the most embarrassing move of my life. I should probably thank you, not the other way around.”

Amelia laughs her head off.

“What’s so funny?”

“You are. You are literally the only person who could make me laugh on a day like this.”

“You can have a spot in my crazy cat house.”

Amelia chortles a little longer before she’s suddenly serious again.

“Gemma?”

“Mmm?”

“How are you, seriously?”

“It’s as if street workers jack-hammered my chest to dig my heart out.”

“That good, uh?”

“I’m having palpitations. The thought of having lost Jake forever is giving me a panic attack. I need to stop thinking about it.” I take the bottle back and drown my sorrows in Dom Pérignon.

“See, I’m not having palpitations about William,” Amelia says. “Just homicidal instincts…”

“Well, Jake didn’t cheat on me.”

“Is she beautiful?”

I don’t need to ask who ‘she’ is. “She had nothing on you, believe me. Plus, she was as wretched as you are. William pulled a number on her too. Up until two weeks ago, she thought she was dating the perfect guy, not an engaged, cheating scum. And if it’s any consolation, she’s jealous you’re a blonde.”

“Why? How does she know? What color is her hair?”

“She’s a redhead, and she stalked you on Facebook.”

“Give me my phone.” Amelia leans over me and grabs it from the floor. “I want to stalk her on Facebook. What was her name again?”

“Give me the phone; you’re not stalking her.”

“Why not? She stalked me first.”

“It wouldn’t do you any good.”

“Why?” Amelia narrows her eyes at me. “Is she so beautiful it’d kill me?”

“No, she’s not, but it’s no good, anyway. Don’t torture yourself.”

“As if you didn’t stalk Jake’s fiancée.”

“Wife. And no, I didn’t.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Not even a peek?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because when I thought I was going to crash his wedding, I didn’t want to give her a face, and now—well, it’d only make me cry. Imagine if she looks like Courtney Thorne-Smith in Ally McBeal. It’d drive me crazy to know Jake married lawyer Barbie.”

“Oh.”

“Why are you oh-ing me? Don’t you oh me. Have you looked her up?”

“No… yes. Just a little.”

“Does she look like lawyer Barbie?”

“No, not really.”

“You’re lying. Give me your phone, now! I want to see her.”

“No, it’s not a good idea.” Amelia raises her arms above her head and out of my reach. I’m too drunk to stand up and snatch the phone from her.