Chapter Twenty
Eleven years earlier . . .
“Fancy seeing you here,” Everleigh said from behind me as the wedding party gathered outside of the Stanford Faculty Club for the rehearsal in the courtyard.
It was an intimate setting nestled in the majestic trees and manicured greenery, accented with string lights for ambience.
I turned, unable to hide my grin. She had twisted her hair into a bun, with a few strands around her face.
All the bridesmaids wore floral dresses in bright colors and patterns.
Perfectly mismatched. Everleigh’s was light purple with dark-purple polka dots and thin straps that crisscrossed in front and tied around her neck.
“Hmm, have we met?” I scratched my chin.
“It’s every girl’s dream to be so unforgettable.” She clasped her hands behind her back and swayed side to side, her dress rocking like a church bell.
“Listen.” I glanced around. “Tyler asked me to be a good friend, a groomsman, and nothing else. Specifically, he asked me not to break anyone’s heart this weekend. So can we just keep this between us? You know . . . what’s happened or about to happen?”
“Yes,” she said so quickly my head reared back an inch.
“Okay then. Glad to know we’re on the same page,” I said with a chuckle.
“What I mean is Victoria basically said the same thing to me.”
“She’s worried you might break someone’s heart?”
“Well”—Everleigh stood straight, making her maybe a half inch taller, but still a short stack—“yes. Why the look? Do you doubt I could be a heartbreaker?”
I rubbed my fingers over my lips and smoothed my mustache while shaking my head. “Nope. Not at all. In fact, I was a little heartbroken that you had a bridal shower last night.”
“Because you couldn’t play video games with me?”
“Yes. Gaming. That’s what I wanted to do with you last night.”
“I thought so.” She winked.
We turned toward the minister, who had whistled to get everyone’s attention.
“If I get hitched, I’m eloping in Vegas,” I mumbled under my breath.
Through my peripheral vision, I caught her big grin.
“Sounds like a good idea. Sadly, even if I elope, I’ll have to go to India for a second wedding with my father’s family.
And it will be a huge deal with lots of people I don’t know.
Also, I couldn’t rob my father of the opportunity to walk me down the aisle.
Besides, there’s something special about the symbolic letting go.
A father trusting another man to care for his daughter. I might miss that if I eloped.”
“Is Reichart an Indian name?” I whispered as everyone quieted down to listen to the minister.
“No. Since my parents never married, I took my mom’s surname. It’s what’s on my birth certificate. Boring, huh?” She giggled, earning her a scowl from Victoria. I elbowed Everleigh, which made her laugh again, but she held it in as her body silently shook.
Everything was easy with Everleigh. I wore a permanent smile. And she was shaping up to be the most interesting woman I had ever met.
After the minister ran through rehearsal twice, everyone gathered inside for dinner.
Old chandeliers hung from the rich wood ceilings.
A friend of the family played his acoustic guitar near a brick wall, where there were engagement pictures of the happy couple.
As luck would have it, I was seated at a round table next to Everleigh.
We tried to be on our best behavior, pretending to listen to whoever was talking about God knows what.
We smiled and nodded.
We ate a few bites of salmon and twice-baked potatoes and drank wine and beer on cue.
But then she slid her foot next to mine, and it had a domino effect.
I spread my legs wider so our knees touched.
She rested a hand on her leg and so discreetly placed my hand on hers, and we interlaced our fingers.
Everleigh blotted her mouth with a cloth napkin and then draped the napkin over our hands. I guided our hands up her leg.
She gulped her wine and then her water. “Excuse me while I use the ladies’ room,” she said, releasing my hand and scooting back in her chair.
No one at the table seemed to hear her. They were too busy laughing, eating, and drinking. I waited a minute before escaping, knowing that no one was paying attention to me.
Would we have sex in the ladies’ room if no one else were in there? Was there a dark corner or janitor’s closet where we could mess around? All the possibilities played in my mind as I eased open the door to the ladies’ room, praying that Everleigh would be the only one inside.
Sure enough, two of the three stalls were empty.
When I ducked to look under the third stall door, I saw her metallic silver heels.
For a second, I wondered why they were facing the toilet, but then I heard a gag, a cringey retching, followed by a splashing sound.
A short cough. Another gag. More vomit splattered in the toilet.
As I took a step closer, the sour smell hit me.
“Oh, Everleigh.”
She spat twice before whispering, “Please go away.”
“Open the door.” I pressed my hand to it.
“Please go,” she repeated before sniffling.
I sighed and murmured, “Okay.” Then I opened the door and let it shut without leaving the room.
The stall lock clicked as she opened it and stepped out, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, face wet with tears.
She caught my reflection in the mirror before ducking her head and turning on the faucet. “Will, I don’t want you to see me like this.” She splashed her face with water and blindly reached for the paper towels.
I grabbed several for her and placed them in her hand.
She blotted her face and opened her bloodshot eyes. “I don’t feel well.”
“I can see that. I’m sorry. Let’s get a cab to your place.”
“What? No. Absolutely not. Just go. It was nice knowing you.”
“Nice knowing me?” I chuckled despite her discomfort and the few dots of vomit splatter clinging to the hair around her face. “I think knowing me might be the best thing that ever happened to you.”
She cupped her hand under the water and rinsed her mouth out several times before clawing at more paper towels to blot her lips. “How do you figure that?”
“Tomorrow is the best day of Victoria’s life, and she’s about to be down a bridesmaid if I don’t make magic happen in the next twelve hours.
And you don’t want to be the one to spoil her day.
Enter yours truly to save the day. It’s what I do.
I put out fires, save lives, just things like that.
” I blew on my fingernails, then rubbed them on my shirt.
My confident smile faded when her crestfallen face turned ashen again. Her cheeks puffed out, and she dove back into the stall.
An hour later, after I informed Tyler of the situation and made him promise not to tell his bride-to-be, we snuck out, grabbed a cab, and made a quick stop at the grocery store on the way to Everleigh’s apartment. By the time she had showered then collapsed into bed, the nausea had eased.
“That’s a lot,” she murmured, inspecting the nightstand filled with things like coconut water, ginger ale, and my homemade oral rehydration solution with sugar, salt, baking soda, and water. Chamomile tea. Activated charcoal tablets. Crackers. Bananas. And peppermint lozenges.
I sat on the edge of her bed. “What do you want to try first?”
“Sleep,” she whispered, closing her eyes.
“You need to try—”
“Sleep,” she repeated. “Go home.”
I deflated. “I’m not going home,” I said, toeing off my shoes. “I’m staying in case you need me.”
“What are you doing?” she mumbled without opening her eyes as I slid into bed, gently spooning her. “I can’t have sex.”
I snorted while trying to restrain my laughter. “Shucks. And here I thought I might get in a quickie before you hurl again.”
She made a noise that sounded like a hum or a failed attempt at laughing.
I rested my hand on her hip and kissed her shoulder. “Sleep, Everleigh.”
That was the second night I slept (just slept) with a girl, and ironically, it was the same girl.
The next morning, I had toast and tea ready when she emerged from the bedroom with hair matted to her forehead. Lips pale and shoulders hunched.
“Good morning.” I glanced up from my phone and smiled, hoping she would reciprocate.
She did not.
“Let me pop your toast back in the toaster to warm it up.” I pushed back in my chair.
“It’s fine,” she mumbled, plunking into the chair across from me.
“You didn’t throw up again, so that’s good. Right?” I infused as much positivity into my words as possible.
Everleigh wouldn’t look at me. “I suppose,” she said, sipping the lukewarm tea.
“Tyler texted me earlier to see if you were going to make it to the salon in time to get your hair done with the rest of the bridesmaids. I said—”
Everleigh’s tired eyes lifted to meet my gaze. I tried not to focus on her rat’s-nested hair, but it wasn’t easy.
“Or you could go with what you have now.” I leaned back in my chair and shrugged before bringing the coffee mug to my mouth, hiding my grin. “It’s lovely.”
“I’ve never said these two words to anyone,” she said before taking a bite of the toast and slowly chewing. “Fuck you,” she mumbled.
I barked a laugh. “Attagirl. You’re going to be just fine today.”
“I don’t want to be fine. I want . . . I wanted . . .”
“You wanted what?” I set my coffee on the table and rested my folded arms next to it.
For the first time since I found her vomiting in the ladies’ room, she had color back in her cheeks. Was she blushing?
“I thought we were going to have sex,” she murmured.
I wasn’t sure I heard her correctly. “You thought what? Did you just say sex?”
“Gah!” She covered her face. “Just go. This is too embarrassing.”
“You thought we were going to have sex last night?”
Keeping her face covered, she nodded.
“I did too. But there’s always tonight.”
“What?” She dropped her hands to her lap.
“No. We can’t do that now that I vomited.
You saw it. Heard me. Smelled it. You probably felt like you could taste it.
” Her nose wrinkled. “How are we supposed to have sex now?” She glanced out the window on a huff.
“Oh my god!” When she saw her reflection, she bolted to the bathroom. “I hate my life.”
I chuckled. “Comb your hair, brush your teeth, get on the bed, and spread your legs. We can get this over with right now.”