Imogen hooted with laughter.

“No way will Amaya do something so cray. Over my dead body.”

I was laughing too. Probably the most I’ve laughed in a long time. That’s why I didn’t think when I spoke next.

“No way. More like over her dead body. I mean, I could just kill that bitch.”

Their laughter wilted away.

Jessica turned her head toward me, a smile still on her lips.

“What was that, babe?”

“Oh my goodness, you guys, I was just kidding. It was a joke.” It really was. But my voice came out high-pitched and oddly tinny.

There was a beat. The tiniest of pauses. It felt like an entire year.

“Of course you were kidding!” Jessica forced a little laugh, but her eyes met Deepa’s for a fraction too long.

All three women nodded with such vigor that their perfectly curled and styled hair whipped around their faces like snakes. Like they were all modern-day Medusas. I thought about grabbing a fistful of Jessica’s hair and slamming her head against the table. Of course, it was just a thought. It went away, like all thoughts did.

I averted my eyes accordingly. It hurt to look at them, with their perfect hair and perfect smiles and perfect lives. Why was I always the one left behind?

“So anyways,” Jessica carried on, a big forced smile plastered on her face, “have you seen the new honey supplier? Mark something, I think? I bumped into him the other day when I was making my delivery.” Jessica makes chemical-free sea salt blends that sell really well at my little spice boutique in downtown LA.

I shrugged, but Imogen jumped in.

“You know, the tall guy? He had a really great ass.”

The conversation moved toward rating various men’s behinds, and I tried to shake off the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Great, now the few friends I have think I’m some sort of troubled freak, and I can’t say I blame them.

They were right, of course. I wasn’t doing myself any favors by being so obsessive. I have a life, regardless of how paltry it is in comparison to everyone else’s. I have a successful small business that I built from the ground up. I have a little apartment that I love. I have friends, or something that resembled friendship, anyway. And I have Alexander. I do. Even if I didn’t know a thing about him. Because if Kaavi’s announcement proved anything, it was that it didn’t matter if you grew up with someone or never saw their face; people still have a way of pulling the rug out from under you.

So when we did our goodbye half hugs and the ladies all took turns squeezing my hand and telling me that I was strong and amazing and that Kaavi and Spencer would probably be divorced before their third wedding anniversary, I held it together. I am strong. I am amazing. Their wedding didn’t matter to me.