Chapter 50
OWEN
I’m sprawled out on George’s couch in my sweats. I’m not totally sure what time it is, but judging by the way the apartment is getting darker and darker, I’d say late afternoon. I haven’t bothered to get up to turn on the lights.
My phone buzzes. I glance down at it on the cushion beside me. Zoe texting again.
Earlier today, she told me the wedding planner is now on hospital bed rest. So, Zoe’s been occupied pretty much all day.
Which is probably better. If she sees me like this, she will have many, many thoughts to express that I don’t feel like hearing.
It was hard enough earlier when I begged out of tonight’s rehearsal dinner.
I feel bad about that. I know I said I’d go along with her, but it’s not even a traditional rehearsal.
Just a few close friends and family having dinner since half the wedding party won’t be in town till tomorrow.
I played the introvert card, and that seemed to work.
Anyway, I’m going to the wedding tomorrow, obviously, and that’s about all I think I can handle.
Not that going to George’s ex’s wedding is something I think I can handle, but maybe by then my mind will have been turned to mush by watching Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer: The Animated Special, and I won’t care.
My phone buzzes again. I guess I better look.
Zoe
Ask me how my day was.
Also, are you sure you don’t want to come tonight?
Owen
I’m sure. How was your day?
Let’s see. I fixed a hotel room mix-up, averted a seating chart crisis, made an executive decision on warm versus cool lighting at the venue, and I’m generally getting the hang of this stand-in wedding planner thing, which is good because it looks like it’s just me now.
Uh…
I thought Shondra was helping you by phone?
She WAS… But then the custom cake toppers came in and they were both white. Which, you know. No. So I asked Shondra if we could just PAINT Cory Black, but we both sort of decided a blackface wedding figure felt really wrong.
And then I said should we tell Luca and Cory and she said God, no and I said I could run down to Duane Reade and get some from the party section and she said on a $2,000 cake?!
And then the doctor sent me a message saying her monitors were all beeping and he was confiscating her phone. So now I’m on my own. But I still have the binder Shondra gave me and I can understand about half of it, so it’s fine!
I have no earthly idea what to say to all of this. Fortunately, I don’t have to.
Zoe
What are you wearing to the wedding tomorrow?
My suit?
Lemme see. Let’s FaceTime.
No way in hell I’m letting her see what I look like right now.
I’ll send you a photo.
I go to the bedroom, grab the suit from where I hung it in the closet, and snap a pic.
Okay. Shirt? Tie?
I grab the one tie and dress shirt that I brought for the occasion and send her a photo of them as well.
Got ‘em. I appreciate your commitment to breaking down the stereotype that gay men are fashion plates. But sweetie, no, I’m gonna come style you.
For a split second, I panic.
Now??
No, I have the dinner!
Oh, right.
It’s going to have to be at 6:30 tomorrow morning. It’s the only time I have.
I could argue, but there’s almost never a point to arguing with Zoe.
Fine.