Truly (New York 1)

“No, you’re not. Ben is the worst person in the entire universe. You’re second.”

Allie smiled, shaking her head. “I hope Matt is bitching to somebody right now, and not just being all wonderful and calm and, like, supporting Mom through this difficult time.”

Matt wouldn’t be bitching. Even if he wanted to, who would he bitch to? May, Allie, and Dan were his closest friends. None of them were available.

Allie must have had the same thought. “I hope he’s at least with the dogs. Throwing sticks or something.”

“He’ll be okay.”

“You think?”

“I know. He’s the most emotionally resilient person I’ve ever met.”

“He’s coming to the party.”

“What? No. How can he? Nobody is that resilient.”

“He cried.”

“That must have been awful.”

“It was. It still is. But afterward, we were both kind of sitting on the couch, all snotty, and Matt was like, ‘So how do you see what happens next?’ and I was like, ‘I don’t know, I can barely think. May told everybody we’re still going to have the party.’ And he didn’t say anything for like a whole minute, and then he said, yeah, we should have the party, because all these family and friends had come to celebrate with us, and he didn’t want to spend what was supposed to have been the best night of his life sitting around feeling sorry for himself. So I said maybe it was healthy to feel sorry for himself, and he said he didn’t give a shit what was healthy, if getting drunk and dancing and not thinking about anything too hard was an option.”

“I can respect that position.”

“Yeah, I think we’re pretty firmly in the same camp. So it’s going to be the weirdest, most awkward not-wedding reception there ever was. We’ll probably go way over budget on the open bar. But it’s not like we’re going to be short on time to mope later. I mean, fuck, I’m going to have to move. We’ll have to figure out dog custody, and—” Her voice broke. May reached for her sister and pulled her into an awkward, sloppy hug.

“The point is,” Allie continued after she’d recovered, “we can be miserable tomorrow. Tonight, Matt’s bringing his party playlists. And he’s going to wear his shirt.”

“The yellow polyester?”

“With his tight blue disco pants.”

May smiled. Matt loved KC and the Sunshine Band. He was hella fun at a party.

“What are you going to wear?” May asked.

Allie eyed the dress hanging on the shower curtain. “I had this crazy idea.”

“What?” she asked cautiously. Because Allie had that doom sparkle in her eye.

“Wait here a sec.”

Allie bounced out of the room and returned moments later with a plastic bag from the grocery store swinging from her hand. “You remember Gwen Stefani’s wedding dress? With the pink?”

“No.”

“Sure you do. It was dip-dyed pink at the hem, and then it faded all the way up the skirt to white at the top.”

“That sounds … interesting.”

Allie shook her head. “Not interesting. Gorgeous. We can do it in the bathtub.” She pulled a hot-pink box of Rit Dye from the bag.

“You can’t be serious.”

“I’m totally serious.”

“We have never had a single successful experiment with Rit,” she reminded her sister. “You have to know this. Every time you buy Rit, we end up with some horrible, unwearable—”