“You have entirely lost your mind,” Sarah whispered, backing away from me as if insanity were contagious.
“I have never been more sane in my entire life,” I replied, tossing the clown pants onto the antique velvet chaise lounge.
My bridesmaids erupted into a chorus of chaotic protests. They were practically vibrating with panic. You can’t walk down the aisle like that. Everyone will laugh. The photos will be ruined. You’ll look like a fool.
“Why not?” I countered, my voice cutting through their hysteria. “Patricia went to the immense trouble of tracking down a clown costume in my size. She orchestrated a heist, swapped the bags, and delivered it with a smile. She wants to sabotage my day. The absolute least I can do is accept her generous gift.”
“But everyone will see!” one of my bridesmaids, Maya, cried out.
“Exactly,” I said, the corners of my mouth curling into a fierce, feral smile. “Everyone will see. Every single one of her snobby country club friends. Everyone will know exactly what she did. If I cry, she wins. If I cancel, she wins. If I hide in a sample dress three sizes too big, she wins. I am not letting that woman take my dignity. I am marrying Daniel today, and I am going to do it in a clown costume.”
Sarah stared at me for a long, agonizing moment. The sheer audacity of the plan hung in the air, heavy and intoxicating. Slowly, the panic in her eyes dissolved, replaced by a dark, wicked gleam. She started grinning.
“You’re serious,” Sarah breathed out. “This is… this is the most savage thing I have ever heard.”
“I am completely serious. She wants to make me the punchline? Fine. I’ll be the punchline. But I’m telling the joke.”
Maya spoke up, stepping forward. “If you’re doing this, we’re doing it with you. I’ll take a sharpie to my face, I’ll draw a clown smile. We’ll make it a statement.”
