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hell is the movie about?”
    â€œA girl who goes to her ex-boyfriend’s wedding,” I say, taking a sip of my iced tea. “Apparently, that’s interesting enough in of itself to turn into a movie. You don’t even need the fake kilt part.”
    â€œBrooke,” she says, employing the same tone she’d use in speaking to a small child.
    â€œWell, I don’t see why I should have to say anything,” I say, scooping more bacon onto my fork and dipping it into the dressing. Then I take another bite and pile bacon onto blue cheese and dip that into the dressing.
    â€œI don’t see why you wouldn’t tell Trip,” she says, shrugging her shoulders. Um, is she kidding me?!
    â€œYou don’t see why I wouldn’t?” I cry out, my voice an octave higher than I intend it to be. “Well, for starters, it makes me look like a huge loser—”
    â€œBut you have Jack now,” Vanessa says, cutting me off. “Nothing matters anymore now that you have Jack. He’s what’s important. Not some silly semblance of your pride that you’re trying to protect.”
    And she’s right. When I think about Jack and how lucky I am to have finally found love, I can’t help but feel silly that I’m still obsessing over the fact that my ex got married before me. The first thing that I’m going to do tomorrow is to call Trip and tell him everything. That Douglas broke up with me right before his wedding, so I brought Jack instead. And that, in orderto keep my dignity ever so slightly intact, I made Jack pretend to be Douglas, which meant that he had to don a kilt and a fake Scottish accent and I had to wear a fake engagement ring, but that none of that matters anymore since Jack and I are together for real and it’s wonderful and it’s everything I always wanted but never realized was right in front of me because I was too busy thinking that all the wrong things were important. But, now I’ve got my head screwed on straight, and I’m engaged to an amazing guy. I will call Trip immediately and tell him all of these things.
    But first, I’m going to steal some of Vanessa’s French fries and order myself a hamburger.

Chapter Four
    â€œWell, this is unexpected,” I say, as Trip saunters into my office. I think, but don’t say: and unwelcome. First, I silently curse Trip for showing up unannounced. Then, I silently curse my assistant, for not announcing that he’d arrived.
    You see, today’s the day I’m supposed to be coming clean to Trip about the fact that I brought a fake date to his wedding—the wedding that he’s making a major motion picture about—but he’s shown up unexpectedly and I’m not really mentally prepared to tell him the truth just yet.
    Maybe I should ask him to come back on a day where I’ve had time to go to the spa to get a massage, manicure and pedicure? Maybe even a facial. Or even a scrub. Yes, I’m sure a scrub would do the trick. Surely then I’d be more relaxed and more prepared to admit the fact that I was too embarrassed to tell him that Douglas broke up with me on the eve of his wedding, so I made Jack dress up as a Scotsman and pretend to be Douglas? But I ask you: is there ever a good time to tell your ex-boyfriend that your man broke up with you on the eve of his wedding, so you made your best friend dress up as him and come with you to the wedding?
    Wine. I was going to need some wine before I do this.
    â€œIs now a good time?” Trip asks, settling into one of my leather visitor chairs, his stance indicating that he didn’t actually care whether or not it was, in fact, a good time for me. I slip off my real engagement ring and reach into my pocketbook to try to find the fake ring I wore to Trip’s wedding. “I thought we could bat around some ideas for the screenplay.”
    The fake ring is nowhere to be found. I decide to forgo