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SIXTY-SEVEN

ONE MONTH LATER.

"I can't believe you're getting married, Gemma?" Sarah and Lucy sat on a white couch while she tasted her wedding gown.

"Gosh, I am so happy," she said, staring at herself in the mirror. Sarah and Lucy scoffed. Seven years ago, you were my chief bridesmaid, and now I am sorry I can't get to be yours.

"Right? I can't believe you all are married, " she pouted and turned around looking at them.

"You should have met him earlier," Lucy whined.

"Right?" She sighed.

"Where's the wedding? We haven't gotten an invitation yet, " Sarah said, Gemma exhaled.

"I am yet to pick a venue," she said.

"A venue or a country?" Lucy tapped Sarah, and they both laughed, teasing her.

"My mom can't get on a plane, and I am not doing it without her," Gemma explained.

"What made sense, but she's seven months, maybe she could," Sarah said.

"I hope so," she shrugged, Gemma looked at Sarah. She seemed to have something bothering her. "Don't you agree with it?" Gemma asked.

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