Not Quite A Bride by Kirsten Sawyer Page B

all the way back to my apartment. When the cab pulls to the curb, Justin asks the driver to wait a minute and I get the cold reminder that he isn’t a real boyfriend and that I have to go upstairs alone. He walks me to the door and gives me a warm but purely friendly hug. Then he stands back and looks at me with a slightly uncomfortable face. It takes a second for me to realize what it is ... duh ... he wants to get paid. I open my purse and hand him the money.
    â€œThanks,” I say, “you were perfect.”
    â€œI think we’re in great shape, Molly. After all the plans we have made to see your family and friends, I don’t think anyone will object to our quick engagement.”
    I smile at him and agree, then give a little wave as I make my way through the door and he heads back to the cab.
    Upstairs, alone in my apartment ... well, alone except for my loyal Tiffany, I start to feel really sad, but I’m really surprised at what I am sad about. Not being reduced to hiring a fake fiancé, not lying to my beloved friends and family, but sad that I am losing Brad. Seeing him miserable and wasted at his own engagement party had more of an effect than I realized while I was in the cloud of excitement over Justin’s success.
    Brad and I have shared everything for over a decade, and now I see that I won’t have him. I mean, I assume Claire will allow us to remain friends ... at least acquaintances ... I hope, but there won’t be any more middle-of-the-night calls, or watching Survivor over the phone, or going out for pancakes for dinner. This isn’t right! It’s an injustice!! I bawl myself to sleep and vow to try to rescue Brad in the morning.

9
    Rescuing Brad, Part One
    W hen I wake up I have a plan. Don’t worry! It’s not another crazy scheme ... I won’t be hiring anyone I saw advertised in the paper. I am going to be mature and adult ... and convince Brad to see the truth about Claire and call off the wedding. I call his apartment and immediately a glitch is thrown into my strategy when Claire answers his phone.
    â€œJeez, Molly. It’s the morning after our first engagement party. Can’t you give us some privacy?” CLICK.
    â€œWhat the fuck?!?” I ask Tiffany.
    Did that seriously happen? Number one: they aren’t married yet ... should she be answering his phone? Number two: their first engagement party? How many do you get? Seriously ... how many? (Mental Side Note: I must look into how many engagement parties a couple gets ... I’m not completely objecting to more than one.) And number three: who is rude enough to hang up like that on someone? Answer to number three is: Claire. Number two I’ll have to do some research about. Number one baffles me. So, I call Justin.
    â€œGood morning, Girlfriend,” he greets me ... calling each other Boyfriend and Girlfriend is kind of an inside joke that also happens to increase the validity of our romance, since people in love tend to invent stupid pet names and call each other stuff like that.
    â€œHey there, Boyfriend. What are you up to today?”
    â€œI was going to call and see if you wanted to meet for a low-fat muffin at ‘our place.’”
    We also started calling Starbucks “our place,” which follows the same strategy I explained above.
    â€œI can be there in twenty minutes looking crappy or one hour looking fabulous. Which will it be?”
    â€œI’ll see you in twenty.” CLICK.
    See, I’m not totally sensitive to people hanging up on me. “’Bye” isn’t always necessary—this hang-up didn’t bother me one bit.
    I throw on sweats and head over to Starbucks. When I walk in, Justin is waiting at “our table” with my nonfat latte in hand.
    â€œYou are the best,” I inform him.
    We spend a good part of the morning sitting in Starbucks people-watching and outfit-critiquing. It’s always been one of my