In my case, the worst that could happen was a little bit complicated. I was sitting in my apartment, clad in pajamas even though it was well past noon, and my sister was in the kitchen making coffee. It smelled good, even though I hated how it tasted. I tried to focus on that instead of unraveling everything that had happened since I met Dean at Pollard Marketing six months ago.

Steph set a coffee cup in front of her spot on the sofa and slid me a cold can of soda. I grinned, thanked her, and cracked it open. Cold, bubbly bliss greeted my lips.

I sighed and sank back into the couch, manspreading with the best of them and letting my stomach stick out–because when you hit rock bottom, sucking in your stomach for dignity's sake was just not up there on the priority list.

Steph took a look at me, grinned, and shook her head. “Dramatic, much?” Steph was twenty-six now and only a couple years past her days of shopping almost exclusively at Hot Topic. She was that kid in high school who was always in layers of black with excessive eye makeup. Now she was a somewhat mellowed-out adult with tattoos all over, short black hair, and pale skin. She’d swapped the all-black for more practical clothes and a penchant for sarcastic and usually funny t-shirts. The one she had on today featured a witch’s silhouette crossing the moon with the phrase “real bitches drive stick”.

“I mean, could things be any worse?”

“You could be dead,” she said with a shrug.

“Har har. That’s helpful, Steph. Besides, at least if I was dead I wouldn’t need to figure out how to handle this.”

“What is there to handle? You lied to mom, dad, Merrick and Lizzie about this fake boyfriend of yours. So, you keep lying your way through the wedding. Ask this guy to fake it good when he’s in front of them and you’ll be in the clear. Problem solved.”

I sighed. “You don’t understand. I haven’t actually seen him in six months. I hardly know anything about the guy, but I sure as hell have made up all kinds of shit when people ask about him. I think I’ve said he is a massage therapist, a former animal rescue worker, a former college tennis star… The list goes on, I’m sure, but I’ve forgotten most of it.”

“If you’re going to lie about your boyfriend playing a sport, what kind of psycho picks tennis?”

I gave her a dry look. “You know I don’t perform well under pressure.”

Steph was trying not to smile, but failing. “I mean, you have to admit it’s kind of funny. I think some people would call this karma. You lied about having a boyfriend to everybody except your one sibling who wasn’t stupid enough to fall for it.” She paused briefly to literally pat herself on the back, then continued. “And now your gullible big sister is getting married to your boss. Everybody is invited, of course, including your co-workers, your bosses, and our whole family. They even invited this random ass consultant you happened to meet and supposedly fell head over heels for six months ago! So for the slow kids in the back, you lied, and now everybody you lied to is going to be watching your every move for two weeks.”