Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Loren
Full disclosure, Sayla and I barely talked about my clearance-rack wedding dress in the bathroom. She mostly wanted to reapply her lipstick. Oh, and to make sure we’d both thought this whole wedding idea all the way through.
I told her of course we hadn’t.
I only cooked up the scheme with Bridger this morning.
We haven’t exactly given ourselves a lot of time to mull over the consequences.
But I reminded Sayla, and myself, that technically, the actual wedding isn’t happening until tomorrow, which means we may have the license, but we also have a night to sleep on it.
“Before you start sleeping under the same roof, you mean.” She blotted her lips on a tissue. “Why are you doing that, exactly? If this is strictly platonic …”
“Our marriage needs to look as authentic as possible to avoid any questions or legal disputes. Moving in together is just another way to cross every T and dot every I. For his mom.”
“But in the midst of this oh-so-realistic performance, you and Bridger are going to be careful not to blur the lines of friendship, right?”
“There will be no blurring,” I insisted. Still, my memory flashed back to how he’s been caring for me these past few days. Or months, really. More like ever since we met. His steady strength. Those irises. The competence. The eggs. The butt. “Zero blurs of any kind,” I repeated.
To her. To myself.
“Because once you cross a threshold like that,” she said, “there’s no going back.
” She returned her lipstick to her purse.
“You’re already worried about your dad. And he’s worried about his mom.
All those emotions will be heightened once you’re married.
But that’s not a normal situation for people who are just friends.
So you can’t proceed normally. You know? ”
“I know.”
She tipped her chin. “Does he know?”
I met her eyes in the mirror. “I think so.”
“You’ve had the conversation?”
“Yes.”
She hoisted her purse strap on her shoulder.
“Because you wouldn’t want to get caught up in a moment without the feelings to back it up, or you could get hurt.
Bridger could get hurt.” Her eyes softened.
“You could lose what you already have. Which might be worth the risk, don’t get me wrong.
But it’s a risk. So you should be sure.”
I bobbed my head.
Then she started washing her hands a second time.
“This will probably sound selfish”—she pumped more soap into her palms—“but I just love you both so much. And I get nervous about things changing between you.” She lathered and rinsed. “Maybe for the better, but maybe … worse.” She shut off the water. “Maybe for all of us.”
I gave her a small frown. “You’re the least selfish person I know,” I said. “Okay, maybe the second least after Bridger. But you’d give me the dress off your back—literally. So trust me when I tell you I don’t want anything to change, either. For any of us.”
She dried her hands with a paper towel, tossed it in the bin, then turned to me.
“Yes, and …” Her voice trailed off. After years of teaching improv to her theater classes, Sayla loves the old “yes, and” thing. She’s trying to get me to dig deeper. But in this case, I had no idea how to complete the sentence.
“Yes, and … what?”
“Yes, you don’t want things to change. And …” She laid a hand to her chest … “This might still be a big challenge for you, here.” Her mouth curved up. “I’m talking about your heart, not your boobs.”
I pressed out a laugh, despite the lump in my throat. “I know.”
“So promise me you’ll be careful with the tender hearts of two of my favorite people in the whole wide world.”
I nodded.
“I’m talking about you and Bridger, by the way.”
“Yes.” Another weak laugh slipped out of me. “And … I promise … I won’t risk hurting him or hurting myself. I’m definitely guarding our hearts.”
The truth is, I want to guard the whole group. What the four of us have—our little square of friendship—is way too precious to give up. And as for Bridger and me specifically, I’d never wish the pain of loss on either one of us. There’s been too much loss in our lives already.
So from now on, I’m holding on to the good we still have with my whole chest. For as long as I can. Which is why, once we’re back at the table, I make sure everyone knows exactly where I stand.
On top of Mount Platonic.
“If we’re done comparing cup sizes,” I say, “let me assure you my old clearance-rack wedding dress will be just fine. All we really need to get out of tomorrow is a legal document.”
“Right,” Bridger agrees. “And some pics and video for my mom.”
Did I put a little pepper on the words legal and document?
Yes. Yes, I did.
Sayla meets my gaze across the table. See? My eyes tell her. He already knows.
“On that note.” Bridger clears his throat. “I’ve got a long to-do list to accomplish and not a lot of time.”
“Better save some for our bachelor party tonight,” Dex quips.
“Hey, now.” Sayla pretends to pout. “Easy, tiger.”
Dex flashes her a grin. “You and Loren should definitely do the bachelorette thing too.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Bridger says.
“It’s not like this is our actual last day being single,” I add.
“Isn’t it, though?” Dex shrugs. “You two are getting married tomorrow, and any footage Sayla gets of us celebrating tonight will only make the evidence seem more real for Bridger’s mom.”
“No strippers, though,” Sayla warns.
“Eww. Blech. Gross.” Dex sticks out his tongue, laying it on thick. “Obviously no strippers.”
“You may have a point,” Bridger says. “Not about the strippers. About the evidence. But if we’re doing this for the photo op, we might as well meet up at the same place. Make things easier on everyone.”
“We’ll have to stay under the radar, though,” I chime in. “We don’t need all of Harvest Hollow knowing what we’re up to.”
“Hmm.” Sayla hums a little, in thinking mode. “Tequila Mockingbird shouldn’t be crowded on a Monday night. And they have that back area with darts and shuffleboard. It’s pretty private. Dark lighting. Moody.”
“That’s my wife.” Dex high-fives her. “Beauty and brains.”
“Just please no silly stuff like tiaras or sashes that say Team Bride,” I beg.
“No problem,” Sayla says. “Still, this will be fun, though, right? Just the four of us. Like always.”
“Right. Like always,” I repeat.
“So, we’ll finish our wedding stuff, then meet up after,” Dex confirms. “How does nine o’clock sound?”
“Nine works for me,” Sayla says.
“Me too,” I agree. We all look at Bridger, but it’s my gaze he meets.
Then his Adam’s apple dips, and something flickers behind his eyes.
“See you there, kitten.”