Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
Tori
T he next day, I was still reeling. I’d barely slept. I couldn’t think about anything except Ava. And that kiss. And that kiss. And the one after that.
What the… How had…
What in the world happened?
It wasn’t the wine. It just wasn’t. Yeah, we’d both had some before we’d kissed, but we hadn’t been drunk. Maybe tipsy enough to be a little giggly, and I sure wouldn’t have wanted one of us to drive, but I’d been lucid and coherent. I was pretty sure Ava had been as well.
That wasn’t a drunken kiss that got out of control. We’d had some liquid courage to try kissing before we got in front of our engagement photographer and our wedding guests. It wasn’t like we’d been throwing back shots and wound up doing something stupid.
I remembered everything about Ava’s kiss. The warmth of her lips. The hum of her voice when she let go of that nearly inaudible moan. The shape of her body between my hands.
What the hell just happened? Because none of that felt fake or like a performance. If she was performing, then she deserved a goddamned Oscar. I sure hadn’t been. The moment I’d had her lips against mine, I’d just… forgotten everything.
Everything except her. Her mouth. Her body. Her closeness.
Seriously—what the hell?
This was all supposed to be fake. It was all supposed to be an act—something we did to make her mom happy while she was still with us. It was supposed to be something I did for my best friend, not…
I closed my eyes and swallowed against the lump in my throat.
This wasn’t supposed to make feelings bubble up that I hadn’t even known were there. What the hell?
At least Ava was out with her mom today. I wasn’t so sure I could’ve faced her. Not before I got my head together, which I was making absolutely no progress on doing.
I needed some advice before I lost my mind.
And thank God, I had someone I could ask.
Marco got to the house in record time.
“How fast did you drive?” I asked as I let him in.
“As fast as I needed to after your SOS.” He studied me, concern written all over his face. “Is everything okay? What’s going on?”
I sighed and shut the door behind us. “It’s about Ava and me. The wedding.”
His eyes went huge. “Okay. What about? You two aren’t canceling it, are you?”
“No, we’re…” I chewed my lip and avoided his gaze.
Marco touched my arm. “Wait, are you getting cold feet or something?”
“No. No, it’s not that. I…” I pushed out a breath. “Let’s sit on the couch. Do you want something to drink?”
His brow pinched. “I’ll answer that after I know if this is a Chardonnay conversation or a tequila conversation.”
I laughed halfheartedly. “I don’t even know, to be honest.”
“Well, let’s sit down then, because I am already worried.” He turned me by the shoulders and led me to the couch, where we both sat down.
Tucker, of course, hopped up immediately and flopped down in my lap. He purred and kneaded, and I couldn’t decide if he was oblivious to my emotional turmoil or if he was trying to help. It did help a little; a purring cat didn’t solve much, but it was hard not to feel a tiny bit better.
“So…” Marco twisted toward me, pulling his knee up on the cushion between us. “What’s going on?”
I sighed, watching myself scratch behind Tucker’s ear. The only way I was going to get any actual useful advice was if I told Marco the truth. The whole truth.
Swallowing hard, I met his gaze. “Promise me that nothing leaves this room. Nobody can know. I shouldn’t even be telling you.”
His eyes got wider and wider with every word. “Of—of course, hon.” He pressed his elbow onto the back of the couch and nodded solemnly. “I’m a steel trap—you know that.”
“I know you are. And I trust you. I just… This can’t get out to anyone. Ever.”
Marco could usually be trusted to liven up a moment like this with a little joke, and I would’ve been grateful for that. Like I fully expected him to put a hand to his chest and ask if I’d knocked Ava up or something, and then I could collapse into laughter that would help me breathe again.
But he didn’t make a joke this time. He was unusually serious, and that made this whole conversation feel even heavier. He had no idea what I was about to say, but he already understood how significant it was, and that didn’t make it any easier to go on.
I took a deep breath and quietly confessed, “The wedding isn’t real.”
“The—I’m sorry, what?”
I swept my tongue across my lips as I looked at him through my lashes. “Me and Ava—we’re not getting married. Not really.”
He stared at me as if I’d just spoken in another language. As if none of the words that had tumbled out of my mouth made a bit of sense.
I didn’t imagine that was going to get much better, but I’d already started, so there was no point in stopping.
I ran my hand through my hair and told him the story.
I explained everything, from the moment Ava had overheard her mom at the bridal shower, to my harebrained idea, to…
well, I didn’t tell him about when we’d kissed.
About how it had been just for practice, but my emotions had gone all haywire.
I’d brought him here because I was freaking out over all these feelings I had for Ava, but now that I was spelling everything out, I kept those cards closer to my vest. I wasn’t even sure why.
The whole time I was talking, his expression morphed from puzzled to startled to staring at me like I’d grown another head.
It was almost comical, especially since he was not an easy person to catch off guard.
It also made me feel even shittier because Marco—one of my two best friends in the world—had truly bought this whole charade about me marrying my other best friend.
I felt guilty for lying to him, and even guiltier for ever suggesting this idea in the first place.
By the time I’d made it through the whole story, I was crying.
I wanted to tell him how conflicted I felt about all this and how real it all felt, but shame kept those words lodged in my throat.
Or maybe it was fear, because I was terrified he’d make me look those feelings in the eye, give them a name, and—worse—tell Ava about them.
So I just left it at how conflicted I was over faking this wedding.
And that was true to some extent; for all the altruistic reasons we were doing this, I did still feel weird about the lies and the secrecy.
Maybe letting off some of that pressure by telling Marco would help? I didn’t even know anymore.
“Oh, honey.” Marco slid closer and hugged me, careful not to squish Tucker between us. “No wonder you’re so stressed about all of this.”
“Right? I don’t know what to do now.” I wiped my eyes. “But… that’s where we are. We’re neck-deep in planning this wedding, and…” I sighed as I petted Tucker. “Am I a terrible person?”
Marco blinked, apparently caught by surprise once again. “A terrible person? Why? Why would you even think that?”
I stared right back at him. “Uh, because I’m telling everyone I’m getting married even though it’s all fake? Because I’m lying to everyone, including you?”
He shrugged. “But you’re doing it so Ava’s mom gets to see her daughter be a bride.”
“I know. I know. I just…” I grimaced. “Why do I feel so scummy about it?”
“Because we’re all taught that lying is the worst thing ever no matter what.”
“You sound like you don’t think it is.”
Marco snorted. “Um, were you not there during all those years when I told everyone I was straight?” He inclined his head. “Or when you told everyone you were straight?”
“That’s different, though.”
“Still lying,” he said with a flippant shrug. “But it’s justified, you know? We were scared and we had to protect ourselves.”
“But that’s not what Ava and I are doing right now.”
“No, it’s not. I still think it’s an exception to the ‘lying is the worst thing ever’ rule.”
“How so?”
“Because I think you’re doing it for the right reasons.
Yeah, it was a little weird to hear you say it’s all fake, but I mean—this poor woman only has so much time left, and she’s always dreamed of seeing her baby girl as a bride.
” Marco shrugged again. “I can’t imagine hearing that and thinking, ‘Wow, you evil bitches are scamming everyone.’ You’re obviously trying to do something good for a mom who’s been dealt a bullshit hand. ”
I rolled my shoulders and exhaled. “Okay. Okay, that’s good.” I made a face. “But why do I still feel so scummy about it?”
“Something, something, lying is bad no matter what…” He rolled his hand. “It’s social conditioning, sweetheart. The same social conditioning that says we should go above and beyond to help people who’ve been screwed over by life.”
I sighed. “Isn’t the road to Hell paved with good intentions?”
Marco pursed his lips. “Do you really want to listen to my philosophical ramblings about that?”
The laughter that bubbled up felt good. “I do. Because I always love hearing you rant and rave about things like that.” I hesitated, amusement dying away. “And maybe I need to hear it, too.”
“You probably do.” He pressed his elbow onto the back of the couch again and looked right in my eyes.
“Okay, so. I can’t speak for whoever actually said the road to Hell is paved with good intentions.
But my interpretation of it is that it’s mostly about people who intend to do good things, and just…
don’t. They have the best of intentions, but they don’t do anything about it.
Like people who think about helping the poor or visiting that elderly family member, but the actions never materialize.
The people stay poor. The family member dies before they ever go visit.
The hell is, in my opinion, the guilt at realizing you could’ve done something, but you didn’t, and now you can’t.
” He gestured at me. “In your case, you have good intentions, and you’re following them up with good actions .
You want to help Ava’s mom experience her dream, and you want Ava to be happy. Right?”