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and you love him!”
    “Uh, begging your pardon, but shouldn’t you get my take on that before you decide who I love?”
    “Puh-lease, Shana,” she said, sounding like we were back in middle school all over again. “I don’t have to ask. I see it every time I, or anyone else, mentions his name. Your eyes light up like little Christmas trees.”
    “Aw, is that your way of saying I have pretty eyes?” I batted my lashes at her, trying to turn her insistent little frown into a smile. No such luck; she was glaring determinedly at me.
    “Don’t try to change the subject! I’m right and you know it!”
    “It doesn’t really matter anymore,” I replied. Not only had I failed to make her smile, but mine was fading now, too. “Brody’s is moving on and I’m… well, I’m glad.”
    “Bullshit!”
    I could practically hear conversations around the restaurant screech to a halt. My cheeks promptly began to redden with embarrassment. You just didn’t use language like that in public around here. Becky, bless her, didn’t even notice. “Look, can we just put a moratorium of this conversation? Seriously, I thought we were trying to catch up.”
    “I’m catching you up on life, doll.”
    I rolled my eyes, but giggled all the same. “Seriously. No more Brody talk, K? We’ve both moved on.”
    She slumped back in the booth, arms folded across her chest with a look that plainly said I don’t believe you . “Fine. Let’s talk about Tiffany and her doomed nuptials.”
    “Becky! Ever the romantic, aren’t you?”
    “I am a romantic, Shana. When two people are meant to be together, like you—”
    I held up a hand. “OK, OK, forget I said anything.”
    She smiled sweetly, crinkling her nose at me—she had the daintiest little nose with a smattering of freckles on it, even though she had them nowhere else. Nowhere visible, anyway, as she liked to remind me—and widened her emerald green eyes innocently. “ So , I was thinking we should hide some supplies in your dress.”
    “Supplies?”
    “You know, a silver bullet, garlic, holy water.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully with a forefinger. “Maybe a crossbow.”
    “I think you’re mixing genres, honey.”
    “Look, OK, yes, some people assume that the apocalypse will come in the form of zombies. Forgive me for being open-minded.”
    Becky could be so infuriating sometimes—especially when the whole Brody-and-me topic came up, which, left up to her, it always did—but I loved her. She was not only my closest friend, but the only one from my hometown that I could pick back up with as though no time had passed. As an added bonus, it was nearly impossible to be bored when she was around.
    Before I could answer, our waitress walked up carrying our drinks. “Anything else, ladies?” she asked, sounding cranky.
    I could see right away that she’d overheard Becky’s potty mouth earlier and wasn’t amused. I looked at Becky, who met my eyes and grinned. “Chocolate shakes,” we said in unison. The waitress marched off, seemingly even more annoyed than before, but we didn’t care.
    Becky raised her glass of water. “I would like to propose a toast.”
    I picked up my sweet tea. “OK. What to?”
    “To me, the best friend ever , who is going to be at Tiffany’s wedding just to make sure you get out of there alive.”
    “You know that if something really happens, like, the groom turns into a werewolf, you know I’m gonna be really pissed at you, right? Not to mention the bride.”
    “You’re too superstitious!” she chided. “Besides, Tiffany’s never not mad at me, so you won’t catch me crying over it.”
    I grinned at her and we clinked our glasses together.

Chapter Three
     
     
    Relax, you’re being paranoid , I told myself as I looked at the dark, ominous sky. Talking to Becky had clearly done a number on me, because when I woke up on the morning of the wedding and saw the gray clouds outside my window, I was sure they spelled doom. Poor