9. Ophie
Ophie
The years, months, weeks, days, hours, and minutes that Philip has wormed his way into being the most important person in my life shift by an infinitesimally life-altering breath as he kisses me.
I’ve never thought about what his lips would feel like, but as soon as their softness registers in my mind, it’s as if that’s exactly what I expected them to be. Same with the way he lightly sucks my bottom lip, his fingers firm on my chin. I never anticipated knowing what it feels like to truly kiss Philip, but now that I have, it feels inevitable.
I bolt from the restaurant as soon as I come up for air, because if I don’t, I might do it again.
My heart races as I pace outside the restaurant. I know Philip. He couldn’t have meant anything by it. I’m overreacting. Right? Yes. Yeah. Definitely. The buzzing in my fingers is just from surprise. The look in his eyes before he kissed me—determined and sure—wasn’t life-changing.
Nope. Definitely not.
“Ophie?”
Philip is out of breath as he steps outside. The sun catches on his hair, highlighting the curls that he never bothers to tame. His sunglasses are already on, hiding his eyes, but not the worried wrinkle on his forehead. He pauses, glancing back over his shoulder before giving a small shake of his head and closing the space between us.
Throwing his arm over my shoulder, he squeezes me into his side as if nothing unusual had just happened. “I’m sorry.”
Confusion replaces the tingling in my spine, and I crane my head to look up at him, but he keeps staring straight ahead as we walk back to where we parked. “Sorry?”
“I took it too far.” He shrugs as we pause by the side of his car. I slip out from under his arm and turn to face my friend. His cheeks are the slightest bit pink, and he still won’t look at me as he pulls his keys out of his pocket and clicks the button to unlock the doors. “That pipsqueak kept trying to look down your shirt.”
Halfway to reaching for the door, I straighten and turn around to face him. “The server?”
Oh.
My confusion settles down as I realize that Philip was doing exactly what I’d done—what we’ve done dozens of times for each other when on the receiving end of unwanted attention from the opposite sex.
“Well, I figured since you already loudly claimed me as your husband, I could return the favor.” He finally looks at me over the top of his sunglasses as he finishes his sentence. His eyes are clear, the playful glint I’m used to back in place.
Why does it irk me that he seems so unaffected?
That he’s acting like everything is back to normal. I should be relieved.
With a sharp nod, I turn away and slide into the passenger seat. Like the gentleman he is, he closes the door for me, and I take the few seconds I’m alone to tuck my feelings away. I’ll deal with them later.
If my fingers would just stop buzzing.
“You know your phone is ringing?” Philip jerks his chin at my hand as he buckles his seat belt.
“What?” I look down. Sure enough, the reason my fingers have been buzzing nonstop since I left the restaurant is not because my best friend just kissed the pants off me, but because my sister is calling. A swipe to look at my recent calls shows that not only has Maggie been calling me every few minutes, but so has Sydney.
“Shit.” I accept the call, nearly dropping my phone in my hurry. “Maggie? What’s wrong? Are you okay? Is the baby okay?”
“Finally!” Maggie’s breathless voice greets me. “Are you working this afternoon?”
“Um. Hi. And yes. Philip and I are just heading home now so I can get ready. Why?”
“Oh! Is Philip there? Can you put me on speakerphone?”
I’m going to lose my shit if she doesn’t explain herself soon, not that I should be surprised. If I could barrel through life the way she has, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have the emergency Xanax prescription in my bedside table.
I tap the button to put her on speakerphone. “Yes, Maggie, Philip is here.”
“Hi, Maggie. Everything alright?” Philip glances at the phone as he throws an arm around the back of my seat, backing the car up and turning with that smooth one-handed motion that is unreasonably hot.
“Hi, Philip. I seem to recall Ophie saying you have some experience with wine. Is that right?”
He raises an eyebrow in my direction, but I just shrug. I have no idea what Maggie wants. “If you mean did I spend a few summers as a teenager working at our family friend’s vineyard in Stellenbosch, then the answer is yes. But I wouldn’t say I have much experience beyond my own drinking of it.”
“Honestly, it’s not a big deal. You’re so friendly, you’re the better option even if you don’t know anything.” Maggie mutters something inaudible before laughing. “Sorry, Kel thinks I should explain the problem first.” Again, her voice goes muffled, like her hand is over the speaker.
Mimicking her, I cover mine and look at Philip. “I have no idea what’s happening.”
He shrugs and grins. “Does anyone?”
“Right. So, long story short, we have no one to run the tasting room at Sunshine this afternoon. Kel has to take Olive to a birthday party, and I have a meeting with a potential client at three, so neither of us can do it. The Suttons are in Canada, and Theo said he’d rather close than have Nate run the room again—he scares off customers.”
“What about Greg or Jackie?”
“They left for their cruise last week.” Maggie sighs.
“What cruise?”
“Greg surprised Jackie with one of those around-the-world cruises. They’re gone for the next three and a half months. Listen, if you can’t do it, that’s okay.” The stress in her tone is obvious, even though her words contradict it. I can just picture her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose like she does when she’s in planning mode.
“So, you need someone to come work the tasting room today? I volunteer as tribute, m’lady.” Philip flashes me a grin as he eases us onto the highway. “I can be there in about an hour and a half, is that alright?”
Maggie squeals, and I shove the phone away from our faces to avoid hearing loss. “That’s wonderful. Thank you so much, Philip! I can man the fort until two, so as long as you can get here by then.”
I tune them out as they iron out logistics. Philip will be perfect—he’s charming, chatty, and I’ve never known a person who could bullshit their way through a conversation with more ease. I think it’s the accent. Americans are always bamboozled by a British-sounding accent.
We pass the drive home in quiet, occasionally singing along to a song or pointing out sheep, cows, or other animals.
Honestly, does livestock even exist if you don’t point and name them as you drive by?
Philip stays quiet as we go inside, dropping an absent-minded kiss to the top of my head on his way back out minutes after we arrive. At the threshold, he turns to watch me as I load our breakfast dishes into the dishwasher.
“I’ll see you tonight, yeah?”
I look up from sorting silverware into the basket. He’s halfway out the house, a concerned wrinkle between his eyebrows as he stares at me.
“Of course. I’ll be home after close.”
He nods before slipping out the door, closing it behind him with a soft click . I finish cleaning up the kitchen before changing into my work uniform and leaving for the coffee shop.
Midweek afternoons in the summer, when it’s finally hot and slightly humid, mean I stay busy behind the bar making iced and blended drinks. The whir of the blender is so constant, I only notice its absence when we have a lull.
Last summer, we had a short stint offering milkshakes and the usual coffee menu, but the owner nixed that option after three different baristas strained their wrists scooping the ice cream. This summer, he added smoothies, which are better for our wrists but hell on the eardrums.
“Ophelia?” Sarah leans in close. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah?” I pause what I’m doing and turn to my coworker. None of my other coworkers know Philip, and I am in desperate need of a distraction. Sarah hates to cook and goes on as many dates as possible so she doesn’t have to eat alone. She always has crazy stories, so I was excited to see that we were on shift together today. “Why?”
“You’ve been mixing that lemonade concentrate for a while.” She gives me a meaningful look, and I drop the stirrer in my hand onto the counter.
“Just tired.” I shove the pitcher of thoroughly mixed lemonade into the fridge and grab a cup to start working on the next drink.
“Tired? Or distracted?” She bumps my hip with hers, takes the cup from me, and jerks her chin toward the pile of blender pitchers that needs washing.
Grabbing the top one, I rinse and stack. “Okay, maybe a little distracted. But it’s no big deal.” If I say it out loud, maybe I’ll start to believe it.
Sarah finishes making the drink, while I rinse equipment as a lull in customers settles in. I’m drying and putting away a stack of clean mugs when she steps beside me. “Sure you don’t want to talk about it? Might be nice to have a neutral party weigh in.”
“Are you a neutral party?”
“Well, the closest you’ve got, baby girl.” Sarah laughs just like my mom—she would love her. “You look like you need to get it off your chest. And I promise not to tell.”
Maybe I should confide in her. She’s not wrong. I am dying to talk to someone, but I know that any of my friends, or Maggie, would stop listening once I said Philip kissed me, and I’d never get a sensible word from them. But how much do I share with her? Do I tell her everything ?
“So…do you remember how I went to Vegas for Spring Break?” I blurt out the words before I can second-guess the wisdom of confessing my crimes.
“Of course I do, since they brought stupid Jeff in to cover for you.” We both shudder at the mention of our old teammate and his penchant for drinking expired milk. “Did you and Cassie get in a fight or something?”
“No. Her sister was an ass, but everyone got along okay. Maybe too well.” I pause and grab a towel to wipe down the counter behind me, but Sarah pokes my arm and takes it from me. “Philip and I may have gotten along a little too well.” I mumble the words as I grab another cloth for myself.
Sarah whirls to face me. “You and Philip? You finally got together?”
Red-hot flames lick my cheeks. I shouldn’t have said anything. Dammit, does everyone think Philip and I should be dating? “No, we didn’t hook up in Vegas. Never mind. Forget I said anything.”
She snatches the cloth from me with surprising strength. “Ophelia, you can’t start telling me that and not finish the story. What happened in Vegas? Or was it after?”
I reach for the trash can to empty the overflowing bag, but she slaps my hands away. “Uh-uh. You’re not leaving until you tell me what’s going on. I can tell you need someone to talk to. It’s written all over your face.”
I shake my head, embarrassment closing my throat. She must be able to tell I can’t talk because she gently sets the trash aside and pulls me to lean against the counter beside her. We watch the customers in the store for a moment in silence before she squeezes my arm.
“Come on, tell me what’s going on. I promise not to say anything until you get it all out.” She mimes zipping her lips. “I’m a vault.”
“You promise?”
“I promise. You know I live vicariously through you. Besides, who am I going to tell, my cat?”
That gets a laugh out of me. Sarah may be barely old enough to drink, but she’s an old lady at heart, and her cat is her baby. My parents are both only children, so I’ve never had cousins, but I like to imagine that Sarah and I could be.
“Fine. But you can’t tell anyone except Momo. And no getting excited.” I point my finger at her face until she nods with a grin. “Right. Um, Philip and I kind of got married in Vegas.”
Her eyes go wide at my words, and I can see her physically fighting not to say something, so I pause and wait for her to absorb my news. After the longest minute, she swallows and shakes her head. When I still say nothing, she circles her hand in a “continue” kind of motion.
“The reasons aren’t important—” I’m not going to make her an accessory to immigration fraud. “—but obviously, we haven’t told anyone. Nor are we planning to. Everything was fine, totally normal, until graduation two weeks ago.”
I fill her in on Philip’s apartment fire, running into him in the bathroom, and the accidental kiss in the car.
“You what? Fell into his face and kissed him?” Sarah finally interrupts me. The more I’ve said, the more ridiculous the whole story sounds. Who falls face-first into their friend and kisses them? In real life, not in a movie?
“Technically, he fell on my face. But yes. That’s not even the weirdest part.” I turn my back to the coffee shop and lean on the counter, burying my face in my hands. “We went and got lunch afterward, and the hostess was checking out his ass. I think I must have temporarily lost my mind, because something in me snapped, and I got all possessive and made a big deal about him being my husband.”
The word is just as unfamiliar on my tongue now as it was this morning. And the same jealousy that had eaten at my stomach as I watched the hostess’s eyes drop to Philip’s, admittedly very fine, ass burns at my chest. The way she’d bitten her bottom lip had been the final straw. That ass and that smile are mine, not some teenage wannabe influencer’s.
“So, you got jealous? You obviously care about each other—that’s clear to anyone who sees you two together. Why do you think it affected you so much this morning?”
I shrug. “I don’t know what’s different today. But it feels like everything is spilling over. How did I not know how strongly I felt about Philip until now? And I haven’t even told you the worst part.”
“There’s more?”
A customer walks in before I can elaborate. I hurry to the register to take their order, Sarah jumping into action behind me to make their drink. When we’re done dealing with their order, another customer comes in, and we’re kept busy crafting drinks and pulling pastries. By the time we hit another lull, Sarah has eyed me so many times I’m afraid her face is going to get stuck like that.
“What could possibly be worse?” she asks as soon as the counter clears of people.
“Worse may not have been the right choice of words…” I stall, trying to sort out how to tell her. “So, I was wearing my white button-down shirt, and you know I’m not exactly flat on top.”
“Yes, yes. You are definitely not a member of the Itty Bitty Titty Committee. No offense, but you’re just my ex-boyfriend’s type. He had a thing for brunettes with D-cups and hips.” Sarah waves away my sputtering with a wink. “Come on, spit it out already.”
Self-conscious, I cross my arms over my chest and push my tits down. “I guess the server kept looking down my shirt. I didn’t notice at first, but it was pretty obvious by the time we were done. It annoyed Philip the same way I got annoyed by the host, and he—” I pause to gather my courage before confessing what has had me tied in knots all evening.
“So help me, if you don’t finish that sentence, I will make you clean the bathroom every shift for the next month.” Sarah glares at me.
“He kissed me. Like, really kissed me. Kissed me like I was his real wife, not just on paper,” I blurt out, my face already burning up.
“And?”
I’m tempted to throw a cloth over my head to avoid her judgement. Instead, I settle for looking around the shop, a glance at the clock telling me we only have another thirty minutes until closing. “And I liked it.”
“Good god, that’s it? You’re telling me a smart girl like you is twisted up in knots because your best friend, who is objectively attractive, kissed you like he meant it and you liked it?” Sarah swats at my backside. “Go clean tables and think about why you’re ridiculous.”
I do as I’m told, not that I need the time to know I’m being silly. I don’t need my master’s to admit that Philip and I have been straddling the fence between dating and friendship for years. The carefully constructed line we’d established at the start of our friendship is built from the knowledge that he’s only here temporarily and my determination not to repeat the mistakes of my undergraduate years.
But then I’d caught him scrolling through his phone in Vegas, looking defeated by yet another rejection. I could blame it on the shots I’d been downing with Cassie all afternoon. Or knowing that we were close enough to graduation to feel a little risky. But The Proposal had flashed through my mind, and I’d Sandra Bullocked my way into snagging my own Ryan Reynolds.
Kind of. If the roles were reversed. And Sandra Bullock’s character wasn’t a total asshole. And obviously no trip to Alaska. The parallels are very nebulous, but I really like thinking of Philip as Ryan Reynolds. If you squint and ignore the hair, he could be.
Finishing up my thesis and studying for finals let me pretend I hadn’t married Philip on a whim. Or that a secret part of me was disappointed that the moment our Elvis impersonator had pronounced us husband and wife, Philip hadn’t confessed that he’d been in love with me from the start.
Ever since graduation, my excuse not to think about our relationship has vanished. And I’ve done nothing but think about the fact that I want Philip to want me.
Thankfully, Sarah lets the topic go as we close the coffee shop and clean up. After locking everything up, we walk out to our cars, parked beside each other in the back corner of the lot. She hasn’t said anything else about my situation, but she’s had a thoughtful look on her face that means I’m in for a parting shot of advice before she heads home.
“Can I make a suggestion? As your friend?”
There it is . “Sure.” I brace myself, knowing I’m not going to like it, because Sarah always gives me uncomfortably good advice. She may be younger than me, but she’s lived a lot of life.
“When you get home, try kissing him again. Like you mean it.”
“Sarah! That is not helpful. We’re just friends. Besides…” I let my real fear slip out. “What if he doesn’t want it? Doesn’t want me. That might make everything worse.”
It has occurred to me that if I wanted to hook up with Philip, now would be the perfect time. He’s staying with me, we’re both at loose ends, and when things go south, he’ll likely be leaving Portland. I won’t have to live with the disappointment of yet another failed relationship.
Sarah unlocks her car and tosses her purse into the passenger seat. “Or, you find out that he does. Better to know than live in limbo.”
“Is it? At least there’s no risk of losing my best friend if I don’t.”
“But what if you lose the love of your life because you were too scared to try?”