“I’m working Sophie’s wedding,” she said. “And karma just did a full backflip.”
I sat down hard on the couch. “Okay.
Tell me.”
“So,” Nina began, “everything was going fine. Then, during the toasts, one of Ethan’s drunk groomsmen gestured too wildly and knocked a full glass of red wine all over Sophie’s skirt.”
I winced. I’d put hours into that skirt.
“She freaked out,” Nina went on.
“Like full panic. She grabbed two bridesmaids and sprinted to the bathroom. I followed with club soda and towels because that’s literally my job.”
I could picture it so clearly.
It hurt.
“They’re in there, blotting the dress, and one bridesmaid starts digging around the seams like she’s on CSI: Couture Edition,” Nina said. “Then she goes, ‘Wait, where’s the label?’ Like, loudly.”
I closed my eyes.
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