Adrienne had moved here, out of the blue, three months before our wedding, was living less than two miles away from us, had co-opted both my best friends and interfered with the selection of my wedding dress, was dating one of Donald’s best friends (which was clearly starting to bother him), was everything I was not, with her rock climbing, love of aviation and adventure, and perfect perfect ass. . . .

But so what? I’d banished the Evil Twins weeks ago, faced my nemesis and survived. I felt strong. Free. Invincible.

Until, that is, the moment when the whole thing backfired and Adrienne stabbed me in the back.

Chapter 21

21

Adrienne’s betrayal was swift, unexpected.

The three of us—she, Donald, and I, Terrance was out of town—had gone to dinner together at Palena, the restaurant Donald had taken me to the night he proposed. We’d ordered a bottle of wine; had just received our first course. When all of a sudden, Adrienne turned to Donald, nudged his arm with her elbow and said:

“So I hear you’re going to get liposucked before the wedding.”

He dropped his fork.

Then I dropped mine.

“Where did you hear that?” He turned beet red; glared at me, the only person in the world he’d told.

She nudged again. “I have my sources.”

He looked at me again, and I blanched guiltily. “Yes, I guess you do,” he said.

I was mortified. I’d almost completely forgotten that I’d divulged such a confidential bit of information to Adrienne, but in my haste to become her friend, I’d let this slip out. I’d betrayed Donald’s privacy.

Of course, the minute I’d done it, I regretted it.

Please, I’d begged. Please don’t tell Donald I told you. He’d die if he found out anyone else knew.

She’d squeezed my arm, then, the way new best friends do:

Don’t worry, squeeze squeeze. You can trust me.

How could I have been so stupid?

Why hadn’t I seen that she was setting me up? That she was just waiting for me to speak out of turn?

I leaned across the table, tried to take Donald’s hand—a gesture of sincere contrition—but he wouldn’t let me. Instead, he smiled broadly.

“Well, okay. I admit it. I was going to have liposuction before the wedding. But I changed my mind.”

“You did? When?” I asked, but he barely acknowledged me; continued to talk directly to Adrienne.

“A few weeks ago I just realized I could probably achieve the results I want with diet and exercise, instead of going through such a grotesque surgical procedure.”

Which is exactly why he’d wanted to have liposuction in the first place: because he felt that diet and exercise weren’t giving him the results he wanted.

“And what results are those, exactly?” Adrienne queried.