“You know that doesn’t go there, right?” Lila teases, sitting up in the chair. “And it’s your something blue.”

“How very traditional of you,” I say playfully and Lila smiles as I move onto the next item, a silver bracelet with a heart charm on it.

“And that’s your something borrowed,” she informs me. “You have to give it back to me when the wedding’s over.”

“It’s pretty,” I tell her, even though it’s not really my style. But I appreciate it—her making the effort. “But I thought the dress was my something borrowed?”

She shoves the magazine aside and crosses her arms on the table. “Nah, you can keep the dress and consider it your something old. It doesn’t hold anything but painful memories for me anyway.”

“Are you sure?” I ask.

“I’m positive,” she assures me and then gestures at the box. “Take the next thing out. It can be your something new.”

I direct my attention back to the box and remove a much smaller box inside it. Inside, there’s some red, lacy fabric, which I take out and hold up. “Jesus, this is skanky,” I say wiggling my fingers through what looks like nipple holes.

She giggles. “Skanky but fun.”

I sigh, stick my hand into the box, and pull out a sequined thong. “Is this the bottom part or something?”

“It’s whatever you want, I guess,” she says with humor in her voice. “It could even be for Micha.”

I snort a laugh and drop the thong onto the lacy fabric. “This is like a sex kit, isn’t it?”

She shrugs, examining her nails. “I went into this really questionable store with sex toys and lingerie and told the clerk to pick out the best newlywed gifts.”

I slip the garter off my wrist and add it to the pile with the thong. “So you have no idea what’s in here?”

“Not a clue except for the garter and the bracelet—I added those myself. But I’m dying to find out.”

“Okay, now I’m really intrigued.” I reach in and remove the next item, a feather duster with a really long handle. “What is this for?” I run my fingers along the feathers and then shiver. “It tickles.”

She giggles, twirling a strand of her short hair around her finger. “I think that’s the point,” she says and I extend my arm across the table and tickle her face with it. “Hey, what the hell?” She laughs as I pull it away. “That’s not for me and I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to tickle faces with it.”

“It could be for you. You and Ethan could totally use it.” I set the feather duster on top of the pile and reach for the last item, which is in another box, a long narrow one.