Chapter Eight
I woke up on Saturday morning to no fewer than fifteen texts from Luke.
How’s the venue list going?Haven’t started.
What about the museum?Hard pass.
Do you think they’d want to get pictures done at Mosaic Stadium?Doubtful.
Here’s the link to the updated spreadsheet!Don’t you have a job?
“I feel like we won’t have anything to talk about considering you’ve been texting me all week,” I said when I arrived at “our office” and sat down at the six-person table he had set up as what looked to be mission control. He had the sleeves rolled up on his shirt, plaid of course, like he was ready to get down to business.
“Oh, we have plenty to talk about,” he said, ignoring my tone. “Let’s see your venue list.”
“Hold on there, quick start.” I held up my hand. “I need to get a coffee first.”
“Here.” He pushed one towards me. “Pumpkin Spice latte, no whip, right?”
I stood there, stunned. He was right. How did he know what I liked after only having one coffee together?
“I pay attention,” he said, reading my mind.
I sat and pulled the coffee towards me, nodded a quick “thank you,” and took a sip. Heaven.
“You’re welcome. List, please.”
Surprising both of us, I had made a list. And I’d talked to Kate to get her thoughts. I figured he probably thought I wouldn’t do it so I was pretty proud of myself when I handed it over.
“Looks good.” He nodded. “Almost exactly the same as mine. So, we agree that the Hotel Saskatchewan is our first choice?”
I nodded. “It’s expensive, but it’s basically Kate’s dream wedding venue. The perfect combination of history and class. She actually had pictures of the Regency Ballroom hanging up on her wall beside her New Kids on the Block posters when we were in high school.” I smiled, remembering a simpler time. “I’m not sure if she would ever be completely happy without getting married beneath a ceiling dripping with extravagant chandeliers. And the best part is, if people don’t want to stay there overnight, there are a lot of other options close by. That’s the beauty of being downtown.”
“Great!” He clicked a few buttons on his laptop. “Location, done!”
“Sorry to burst your achievement bubble, but don’t we actually have to book it before we’re done?”
“I did already.”
What?
“What?”
“When I was phoning around to see if the venues were available, I booked this one, just in case. I knew it was one of their top choices, but I wanted to see what you thought before I confirmed.”
“What if I hadn’t agreed?” I asked, moderately impressed by his sneaky initiative.
“The deposit is refundable if I cancel within ten days.”
“Oh. Well, okay.” I sipped my coffee, attempting to hide the fact that I couldn’t think of anything else to say. Part of me wanted to be angry because he’d booked the venue without involving me, but another, larger, part of me was relieved because booking a venue was a huge thing off our plates.
“Sorry,” he said, a concerned expression on his face. “I didn’t mean to exclude you. I just thought that venues were hard to book so we might as well get a jump on it. I promise, for everything else, we’ll move forward together.”
“No, it’s fine.” I smiled. “It was smart. You’re right. Venues are hard to book.”
He stared out into space, a wistful gleam in his eyes, his mouth softening into a goofy grin. “It’s going to be so romantic. Don’t you love weddings?”
“Not really.”
“Why not?”
I opened my mouth to give my standard answer about extravagant social constructs but instead said, “I don’t know, they just make me sad.” Where did that come from?
“How so?” he said, giving me his full attention.
For a brief second, I considered telling him the truth. That the idea of taking part in an event requiring a healthy relationship and long-term commitment was something I’d considered myself so far removed from for so long that the only thing I could feel now was grief.
But the moment passed and I came to my senses. The last thing I wanted to do was to be vulnerable in front of someone I’d only met a couple of months ago. After this wedding was over, I would never see him again.
“You know, the money,” I said, snapping back to reality. “Weddings cost a fortune; it’s depressing. Okay, what’s next?”
“The Stag and Doe,” he said after a pause, his voice wavering between questioning and accepting what I’d just said.
Being from Saskatchewan, I had never heard of a Stag and Doe before, but, in Toronto, Luke had assured me, combining the bachelor and bachelorette parties was all kinds of fun.
“Ah, yes,” I said, pushing my phone towards him with my list of ideas. This was one thing I could take control of. If anyone knew how to party, it was me.
Luke scrolled through my list. “Gabos? Really? I mean, no offence, but isn’t that club full of twenty-year-olds?”
I shrugged, blew on my coffee, and took a sip.
“Well,” he said, “I know I don’t know Kate as well as you do, but do you think she really wants to attend a party where she has to wear a T-shirt that says, ‘My last night of freedom,’ with balloon penises taped all over it?”
And that’s when I spat out my coffee.
“Oh, shit,” I said, jumping to grab some napkins from the nearby counter. “I’m so sorry.” I wiped the coffee drops off his laptop and handed him the rest of the napkins.
He didn’t take them. He just sat there with a stunned expression, lips tight, not saying anything.
Well, I guess I’d done it. I’d finally overstayed my welcome in his space of cheerful grace.
I continued to hold out the napkins like a tragic statue, waiting for him to crack, to move, to do anything.
But then his right eye twinkled, and the corner of his mouth twitched, and like the burst of a geyser, a guffaw escaped his pressed-together lips.
“Oh, man, you should see your face,” he said, slapping his thigh. “You look like you’re about to cry.”
“I do not.” I twisted my face into a neutral expression.
“You did.” He chuckled. “And really? If you wanted to go to Gabos so badly, you just had to say so. You didn’t have to spit coffee all over me.”
“To be fair,” I said, my lips twitching, “I wasn’t expecting the words ‘balloon penises’ to come out of your mouth at our meeting today, so I was a bit taken off guard.”
“Totally fine.” He dabbed at his keyboard with a napkin. “To be honest, I wasn’t either.” He smiled and tapped a couple of keys. “It’s fine, you didn’t wreck it. I can wash it off when I get home.”
“I don’t get you.” I shook my head. “Why are you so smiley all the time? I mean, I just spat coffee all over you and you barely even flinched. You’re not mad. You’re not irritated. You’re just so…happy.”
“It bothers you, doesn’t it?” He smiled even wider.
“Yes!”
He laughed. “Well, not to get into any great detail, but one day I decided my life was better when I smiled. When I didn’t sweat the small stuff. Because the small stuff is easy. If I could smile through the small stuff—like someone spitting coffee all over my laptop—I shouldn’t have much to complain about. If I can bring cheer to the table rather than sorrow, I can deal with the bigger stuff much more easily. And hopefully help others do so as well.”
“You know, some studies show that positivity psychology is more harmful than saying what you truly feel,” I said, not wanting to buy in to his healthy attitude.
“But that’s the thing.” He leaned in close. “The more I focus on what makes me happy, and the less I care about what other people think”—he looked at me knowingly—“the more cheerful and positive I truly feel.” He shrugged as if to say I could take it or leave it. “You only get one shot at life. You better never let it go.” He smiled.
“Did you just quote Eminem?”
“Sorry,” he said. “I’m just caught up between being a father and a prima donna.”
He looked up, face straight, completely serious. I shook my head and looked down, trying desperately not to smile. Trying not to laugh. Trying to keep my face an impenetrable wall of stone.
But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop the giggle from bubbling up from my chest and coming out as a snort.
I looked up and his shoulders were shaking, his hand over his face as he tried not to burst. But it didn’t matter. Because I had already fractured. And people had started to look.
“Human emotion looks good on you,” Luke teased, passing me a napkin as I continued to giggle. “Here, this one already has your spat-out coffee on it.”
I took the napkin and dabbed at my eyes. “Man,” I said. “I haven’t laughed like that in a while.”
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “Laughter is such a great stress release.”
“Are you actually a father?” I crumpled up my napkin and put it in my empty cup. “Or was that just part of your rap performance?” I lowered my eyes to my hands. Whether or not Luke had a kid was something I should have known; he was my brother’s close friend after all. Had I been so preoccupied with staying sober that I had withdrawn from those around me? Maybe it wasn’t just Ben and Kate cancelling dinners that was the problem.
“No, I am actually a father.” He picked up his phone and swiped so I could see the lock screen unencumbered. An adorable little girl with wild curly red hair and Luke’s sparkling green eyes stared back at me. She was hamming it up for the camera, all smiles and teeth. Definitely Luke’s child.
“She seems very sweet,” I said. I never knew what to say about kids. I wasn’t around them very much.
“She is,” he said, his eyes full of pride. “Her name is Hannah. She’s seven. She’s my whole world. You don’t have kids?” he said in a way that told me he took the time to learn about his friend’s family.
“I don’t,” I answered. “By choice,” I added. “Not that I don’t like kids; I’ve just never really thought about being a mom.”
That wasn’t entirely true. I definitely didn’t want kids now, but I had thought about it when I was younger. I had thought I’d settle down. I thought I’d quit partying. I just never did. And now, in my mid-forties, I was well past my parenting prime. I probably couldn’t have kids even if I wanted to.
He put his phone back down on the table and I waited for him to say something about Hannah’s mom. Was she still in the picture?
“Hannah’s mom passed away right after she was born,” Luke said softly, as if reading my mind. “She was in a car accident.”
“I’m so sorry,” I breathed. “I didn’t know.”
“Theresa was the kindest, most generous person I had ever met. Never judgmental, always there to lend a hand. She was truly beautiful, both inside and out.” A warm smile brightened his face. “I miss her every day, but I still consider myself very lucky. Do you know why?”
I shook my head, trying to swallow the lump that had formed in my throat.
“Because every day Hannah looks more and more like her. And every day I get to enjoy the wonderful little person she’s becoming. She has so much good in her. Just like her mom.” He looked at his watch. “Speaking of which, I have to go pick her up from Theresa’s mom’s. The time’s gone by quicker than I thought; we didn’t even get to the guest list. I don’t suppose you can meet before our normal time next week? We really should have a gift registry link to send out with the save the dates.”
“Sure,” I said, shaking myself off, trying to recover from the emotional shrapnel.
“What about Wednesday after work?” he asked as I scrolled through the calendar on my phone, knowing that I had literally no plans. “I can drop Hannah off at her grandma’s again after school and meet you somewhere.”
“That works.” I shoved my phone in my purse and walked towards the door. “In the meantime, why don’t you send me your edited guest list and I’ll send it to Ben and Kate for approval. That way we can focus on the save the date design and get that moving forward.”
“Great!” He beamed as he held the door open for me and we stepped outside. “Does Excel work for you?”
I nodded, praying Quinn could show me how to use a spreadsheet. “Perfect.”
I got in my car and watched him pull out of his spot and drive by, his waving hand as wide as his toothy grin. I chuckled softly, guessing that his over-the-top joviality was now purely for my benefit. “Well played, Luke Hudson,” I murmured.
As I put my car into reverse and slowly backed out of the lot, it suddenly occurred to me why I found these meetings so uncomfortable. Why I found it so difficult to be nice. I’d never had a real friendship with a man before. With the exception of Ben, most of my interactions with men consisted of either one-night stands or brief chats in the halls at work. I’d learned long ago that putting any more effort in was not worth my time. It was best to get what I needed and go, before I was left behind.
With Luke it was different. I was going to be stuck with him for the good part of a year whether I liked it or not. I needed him to help plan a successful wedding and I wouldn’t be able to just up and leave before I reached my goal.
I was just going to have to get used to this new dynamic and figure it out as I went along. And more importantly, I was going to have to do it sober.
This was going to be a challenging ten months.
Was it weird that I was kind of looking forward to it?