35
I wake up Friday morning with nervous energy I can’t explain.
It’s just a wedding. I’ve been to dozens of weddings. I know how this works. I show up, look presentable, make small talk, dance to songs I don’t know, eat rubber chicken, and go home.
Simple.
I hit the gym at six AM, pushing myself harder than necessary through a workout that’s supposed to burn off whatever this restless feeling is. It doesn’t work. If anything, I’m more wired when I leave than when I arrived.
Haircut at noon. The barber asks if I’m going somewhere special, and I tell him it’s my cousin’s wedding.
On the drive home, I text Liv: Want me to book your flight? I can pick you up in SF.
Her response comes back immediately: Already booked with Tess. Thanks though.
I stare at the message, stopped at a red light, and feel something deflate in my chest.
She booked her own flight. With Tessa.
Which makes sense. They’re best friends. They probably want to travel together, make it easy with the kids, have it be a whole thing.
But it feels like she’s avoiding me.
I type back: Sounds good. See you there.
See you there.
Not “can’t wait to see you” or “looking forward to it” or any of the things I want to say.
Just “see you there.”
Like I’m still paying her to be there as my fake date.
Dammit.
The light turns green, and I drive home trying not to read too much into text messages. People communicate differently. Maybe she’s just being practical. Maybe she doesn’t want to impose on me for airport pickup when she has other options.
Maybe I’m overthinking everything.
At home, I drop off my suit at the dry cleaner and confirm my hotel reservation. One room, two beds, under my first and last name. The same arrangement we’ve had for every wedding so far.
Except this time, I’m not sure what the sleeping arrangements actually mean.
Are we sharing a room because we’re supposed to be a couple? Because it’s convenient? Because we’ve moved past the point where sharing space is weird?
I should probably ask her.
I definitely should have asked her already.
But somehow, bringing up the fake dating logistics feels impossible now. Too awkward. Too much like admitting that I don’t know what we are to each other anymore.
The rest of the day passes in a blur of preparations. Confirming wedding gift delivery. Checking the weather in Napa. Packing enough clothes for a weekend that feels like it might change everything.
That Friday, I’m checking into the hotel in St. Helena, and I’m surprised by how much I wish Liv was with me.
Not because I need her here. Not because I can’t handle a simple hotel check-in on my own.
But because she’s supposed to be my girlfriend, right? Even if it’s fake, even if it’s complicated, even if I don’t know what we’re doing anymore, she’s supposed to be here with me.
That’s how this works.
That’s what couples do.
“Will your wife be joining you later?” the desk clerk asks, handing me my key cards.
“Girlfriend,” I correct automatically. “And yeah, she’ll be here tomorrow.”
“Wonderful. The wedding’s at the Auberge, right? Beautiful venue.”
“Yeah. Should be nice.”
“I’m sure it will be. Let me know if you need anything.”
I head up to my room—their room, our room, whatever—and try to shake off the weird feeling that I’m doing this all wrong.
That I should have insisted on picking her up. That I should have booked us a romantic dinner tonight. That I should be treating this like we’re actually together instead of like we’re business partners with a contract.
The room is nice. Two queen beds, a sitting area, a view of the vineyards. The kind of place where couples come to reconnect and remember why they fell in love.
I drop my bag on the bed closest to the window and check my phone. No messages from Liv.
I consider texting her, but I don’t know what to say. “Hope you have a good flight”? “Can’t wait to see you”? “I’ve been thinking about you every day since I left LA and I’m not sure I can keep pretending this is just an arrangement”?
All of the above feel like too much.
None of them feel like enough.
I’m saved from my spiral by a text from my cousin Jake: Drinks in the hotel bar. You in?
Be right down.
The bar is already crowded with wedding guests, and I spot Jake immediately. He’s holding court at a high-top table, telling some story that has everyone laughing.
“West!” he shouts when he sees me. “Get over here. We’re catching up on the last decade.”
“All of it?” I ask. When I sputter those words, everyone turns their attention to me and eyes bulge out. I inhale at the attention. My height is three quarters of the reason.
Jake beams. “All of it. Starting with why you’ve been MIA for the last few years.”
I smile. “I’ve been busy.”
“Hockey doesn’t count as busy. That’s just your job.”
I shrug. “My job is busy.”
“Everyone’s job is busy. What else is going on? You dating anyone?”
“Actually, yeah. I’m bringing someone tomorrow.”
“Really? Tell us everything.”
“Her name’s Liv. She’s... she’s great.”
“That’s it? That’s all we get?” he asks, looking around the table.
“What do you want me to say?”
“Everything. How’d you meet? How long have you been together? Is she the one?”
“Is she the one?” I repeat as someone hands me a beer. I take it and thank them politely then take a sip to buy time.
See? This is why I needed a date to these weddings. If Liv was here, she’d be my buffer.
I swallow and nod. “Yeah. You know. The one you’re going to marry and have babies with and grow old with.”
“I don’t know about all that.” Jake laughs obnoxiously to the table and a few others agree.
I take another sip to avoid the feeling my chest because I do know.
I’ve known since that night in her apartment, maybe even before that.
Liv is the one I want to wake up next to every morning. The one I want to make coffee for and argue with about what to watch on Netflix. The one I want to introduce to everyone and have babies with and grow old with.
She’s the one.
The question is whether I’m hers.
“Where is she tonight?” Jake asks.
“Flying in tomorrow with my sister.”
“Your sister knows her?” he asks with a certain judgy tone.
I nod. “They’re best friends.”
“Ah. That’s either really good or really bad.”
“My sister loves her.”
“Then you’re golden.”
“Tell about you, Jake.”
Jake does the gesture at his neck like he doesn’t want to get into it, but I press to be a dick. “Come on. You? You can’t be that busy with that corporate job, can you? It’s not like you’re pushing your body’s limit for a sport, so you must find the time for dates.”
He glares at me, not liking that I’m dishing his shit right back to him.
I shrug, raising my brow at him. “No lucky biters, huh?”
He looks at the crowd. “Maybe if I had a sister…”
Me and some of the guys laugh. I nudge him, and he breaks into a laugh.
Someone else continues the conversation, and I’m grateful. My mind drifts to Liv. About seeing her tomorrow. About introducing her to everyone. About dancing with her at the reception and trying to figure out if this is real and what happens next.
Only time will tell.