Page 138 of Rastor

"Who am I?"

I gave her a look. "You don't know?"

She made a sound of impatience. "Iknow. I just need to know ifyouknow." She struck a pose. "So go ahead. Guess."

Screw it. "You're Amber," I said.

"Well, yeah." She rolled her eyes. "Obviously. But what else am I?" When I said nothing, she lifted the flowers higher and started humming something that sounded vaguely like the wedding march.

The way it looked, she was either a bridesmaid or a bride. Either way, I decided to keep my mouth shut.

She sighed. "I'm a bridesmaid. If you were a girl, you would've totally known that." She peered around me and asked, "So, is Chloe here?"

She wasn't, actually. Thank God.

I shook my head. "She's at her grandma's."

"Oh." Amber frowned. "You got the address?"

I looked at her for a long moment. In a careful voice, I asked, "Why?"

"So I can audition."

I wasn't following. "For what?"

"To be her maid of honor. Duh."

I froze. Amber knew? How? Chloe didn't even know, not for sure, anyway.

I still had the engagement ring, and was planning to pop the question on Chloe's favorite holiday, Christmas Eve. It was less than a month away, and I could hardly wait.

The last day or so, I'd started carrying around the ring in my front pocket. Stupid or not, I couldn’t stop looking at it. Already, I could practically see it on Chloe's finger, telling the whole world that she was mine, and was going tostaymine.

Always.

But things weren't official yet, so all I told Amber was, "I think you're getting ahead of yourself."

She nodded. "Exactly."

I wasn't following. "What?"

"I wanna be first in line. You know, before all the good slots get taken."

That actually made sense in an Amber sort of way. Scary.

"Just what have you heard?" I asked.

"Well, you know, my parents are really good friends with this super-exclusive jeweler guy. And he was over for Thanksgiving. We had a ton of people there." She poked me in the shoulder. "You should've come. There were like five kinds of pie, too. And I know how you lovethat."

Why deny it? "Well, I do like pie," I said.

"Anyway," she continued, "he mentioned that last month, he sold the biggest rock he'deverseen to some super-famous guy who lives right here in Rochester Hills."

What could I say to that? Not a whole lot. I tried to play it off by saying, "Eh, it could be anyone."

But Amber was shaking her head. "Nope. Because I asked him, 'Is it a super-famous hot guy with tattoos?' Andhesaid, 'Sorry, that's confidential.' So of course, Iknewthat if itweren'tsome super-famous hot guy with tattoos, he would've just said, 'No. It was a regular guy.' So Iknewit had to be you." She smiled. "See?"

"Uh…" I looked past her. "Look who's here. Bishop." And he really was, too. Thank God. He'd just pulled into the driveway and was getting out of his car.