These Are the Moments (26 page)

Chapter 68

Then

Nothing was stopping her.

She knew it was a bad idea when she got into the car. She knew still as she was driving to his house, pulling into his driveway and seeing that he wasn’t home. She thought in that moment that she should turn around.

Just turn around.

But she didn’t. She knocked on the door. And Mrs. Helen answered, her face unassuming and kind.

“Wendy,” she said, genuinely excited to see her, “I didn’t know you were coming over.”

No one did. Especially not Simon.

“It was sort of last minute,” she said, which wasn’t a lie. “Do you mind if I wait for Simon?”

Wendy could tell that Mrs. Helen knew something was wrong when she let her through the door. She knew it when Wendy sat on the couch, stiff as a board, fingers kneading through each other. Wendy knew she knew. And still, she didn’t leave.

“He’s just at the grocery, I think,” Mrs. Helen said. “Do you want me to call him?”

“That’s okay,” Wendy said. “I already did. He turned his phone off.”

That was true, too. And she was the reason.

“Okay then,” Mrs. Helen said, standing in the doorway. “I’ll just be in the study if you need anything.”

Wendy knew it was a bad idea when she waited on the couch. She had half a mind to run out into her car. To drive away from all of the other terrible ideas she had. But she could feel the fear in her fingers, which shook and trembled, like they were trying to break free from the rest of her.

She wasn’t okay. She wasn’t together. She was panic, through and through.

When Simon walked through the door, she knew immediately that this was the absolute worst move she could have made. He took one look at her, long and leering, and stormed off into his room.

She should have left.

Right then.

Maybe, if she had, she could have salvaged something. She could have pretended it never happened at all.

But Wendy followed him. Into his room. Door closed behind her.

“Hey,” she said, timidly. As if all of the passion and anger and fear that had led her here dissolved right out of her system.

He threw his grocery bags in the corner of his room. “
What are you doing here?
”

His voice jabbed, cut and bruised. “We really need to talk. I can’t just leave it.”

“I asked you to just leave it,” he said, turning on her. “Didn’t I? And what? Y
ou show up at my house?
Are you insane?”

“I know, but—”

“No. You do this every time. I told you I’d be okay with it. I asked you to give me time. God, Wendy. Why can’t you leave it the hell alone?”

The
it
he was trying to be okay with was the almost, nearly-there proposal. He’d asked her if she was committed to him, if in a few years, they would get married. He asked this because he was scared, afraid that moving and traveling and leaving school would end them.

For some reason, this threw Wendy. And they fought, back and forth, over every last detail. But the problem was simple: she couldn’t say yes. Not with all the what if’s charged behind it.

What if I want to study abroad?

What if I don’t get a job?

What if I have absolutely no idea what I want?

He was never the question. But, it seemed, he was also not the answer.

“I need you to leave,” he said to the wall.

“But, Simon—”

“
Get out.
”

That was the thing about knowing someone to their core. When you knew someone the way Wendy knew Simon, you knew the words beneath the actions, the ones that weren’t said.

When Simon said he needed time to get over it, Wendy knew that was code for
time to decide to break up with you
. Wendy knew him, better than anyone, and she knew that time meant space and space meant thinking and thinking meant shutting himself down.

Which was what got her here today.

Which was why she couldn’t leave now.

She clung to his bed post. “Please.”

“I said get out,” Simon demanded. He moved over to her now and grabbed her wrist. Not hard or forceful, just enough for her to melt into it.

“I can’t,” she said.

She stood. He glared into her eyes. “I need space. I need time. I need you to get out.”

Get out, get out, get out.

She should’ve.

She didn’t.

She forced her body lips-first at him, like it would somehow make the rest of it fade. Water down the page.

He kissed her back, desperate, pained, but only for a second. He pushed her away.

“
Get the hell out of here, Wendy.
”

She froze. “But we need to talk.”

“God,” he said, the anger becoming physical, like a surge through his body. “I can’t do this. It’s over.”

She broke down. A crumple on the ground, sobbing, loud and clear.

And he couldn’t handle it. Couldn’t handle her.

His fist sailed through the wall. Crack. When he reared his arm back, the hole in the wall was large and deep, and Wendy gripped her chest, like the hole was in her heart instead.

“Please don’t do this,” she said again.

And she was somewhere far away. On the porch swing. Watching him run into the rain and out of her life. Here it was again. Here they were.

“It’s over,” he said again. “You did this. You should’ve given me time. You should’ve.”

Should’ve.

Didn’t.

Couldn’t.

Wendy walked to the car, leaving half of herself behind. In the driver’s seat, she stared at the steering wheel. The car buzzed beneath her, but she wasn’t ready to move yet. She wanted to sit there for as long as she possibly could.

This isn’t happening.

This isn’t real.

Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.

A knock at the window. She pressed it open.

“You okay to drive?” he asked her. Eyes red. Chest fallen.

She nodded through puffy, stinging eyes. “I’m sorry. Please, just—”

But he was already leaving her behind.

The Wedding

Chapter 69

The Drive

They were leaving Covington behind.

8:15 a.m.

Claudia and Wendy had packed the SUV the night before, so they could wake up early and go. Reese, living so close to them, was the first stop on the list.

Wendy texted: “We’re here,” and Reese stumbled out the front door, lugging her suitcase in front of her.

“Need help?” Claudia asked, stepping out of the car.

When Reese settled herself in the backseat, she said, “All set.”

“Umm, aren’t we forgetting someone?” Wendy asked.

“Nope.”

“So . . . Ben is, what? Driving himself?”

“I broke up with Ben. Granola bar, anyone?”

As Wendy started the car, Claudia gave Reese a high five. “That guy was a douche.”

“Hey,” Wendy corrected.

“Okay, he was an asshole, then.”

Reese shrugged. “You’re right. No arguing here.”

“I mean . . . did he . . . did you . . . . ” Wendy had no idea what she was trying to ask, just that she needed to ask something.

“He’s been cheating on me for months. I’ve accepted it. Life goes on.”

“That
asshole
,” Claudia said. “We should totally fork his front yard.”

“Or castrate him,” Reese suggested.

“Even better.”

Wendy couldn’t help smile. “You’re really brave.”

“Why? For cutting someone out of my life who had no business being there? That’s not bravery. That’s common sense.”

That one hit home.

“I’m talking about Ben,” Reese said, sensing it. “Don’t twist it, okay?”

Next up, Vivian.

8:30 a.m.

The front door opened, and three people staggered outside. Owen lifted the trunk. “Hello ladies, you’re looking bright and cheery this fine morning.”

Reese grumbled. “Get out.”

“Room for one more?” Cousin Katherine opened the side door. And Claudia turned to stare.

Vivian knocked on Wendy’s window. “Is it cool if Katherine comes along? I know, I know. Bad friend move. But . . . good bride move?”

Wendy glared at Vivian. “Why are we friends, again?”

8:45 a.m.

The revised four drove off toward the interstate, with Owen waving them goodbye.

It was quiet in the car. The girls stared out at the highway. Reese nodded in and out of sleep.

“Music?” Claudia asked.

“Good idea,” Wendy said, flipping on the radio.

Wendy’s mind wandered to the wedding. There would be luminaries and flower petals and gold balloons. The rehearsal was tomorrow night, the wedding the day after. Today, they would hit the beach caked in lotion, and tonight they would sleep.

Cousin Katherine shifted behind Wendy’s seat, her legs cramped. “Could we maybe stop for coffee? My treat?”

Her treat. I’m sure it is,
Wendy thought. “Sure.”

“Thank you so much for letting me tag along,” Katherine said. “I really didn’t want to make the drive alone.”

“No boyfriend?” Claudia spoke up.

“No, no boyfriend.”

“Any potentials?”

Wendy shoved Claudia. “A little nosy there, eh sis?”

“Just curious,” Claudia smiled. “So no?”

“Not even a little,” Katherine said, “But you know what they say. Weddings are a great place to meet people.”

She’d slept with Simon, of course. And she was nice, sort of. And pretty, definitely.

“Just don’t sleep with Simon again, okay?” This time it was Reese, blunt as ever.

Cousin Katherine went red. “I didn’t sleep with Simon.”

“You didn’t?” Claudia turned completely around now.

“
Seriously, Reese?
” Vivian said, punching her in the arm.

“No,” Cousin Katherine said. “God, no. He was really drunk and he just made sure I got home okay. Plus he kept talking about—”

“Wendy,” Claudia said. “You’re gonna say Wendy, right?”

“Bathroom break, anyone?” Wendy asked, taking the next exit.

“Well, yeah,” Katherine said, looking sheepishly at Wendy.

“We probably shouldn’t talk about this,” Vivian chimed in.

“I want to know. We want to know, right?” Reese said, sitting up.

Wendy parked the car. “No, we do not want to know. Thank you, but no. This is a Simon-free car. If y’all have a problem with that, hail a cab.”

This didn’t change anything. It barely even meant anything.

10:35 a.m.

In the rest stop bathroom, she splashed some cold water on her face. Alone, she unfolded the letter from her purse that read, “Congratulations! You’ve been accepted to the New Orleans University Fine Arts Study Abroad Program.”

One weekend. All she had to do was get through this weekend. And then, she’d be in Italy.

Miles and miles away.

Chapter 70

The Rehearsal

Sitting next to Simon had been unavoidable. Their names, in perfect calligraphy, bordered each other at the table near the front of the tent, on pretty pink cards. He didn’t say anything when she took her seat, with Reese beside her. He turned his chair so far away that he could pretend she wasn’t there at all.

The rehearsal part of the rehearsal dinner had been boring. There was a lot of talk about where to stand and bouquet holding and
blah blah blah
.

Simon and Wendy orbited around each other, as he escorted her to the fake altar, with the wind at their backs. He never looked directly at her and didn’t say much more than a passing hello.

The dinner was on the beach at sunset. The hotel had set up palettes on the ground with low tables. There were tiki torches and champagne flutes. Wendy laughed at all the people in their finest wear, sitting cross-legged on pillows in the sand, practically eating in their own laps.

It was, for all intents and purposes, a gorgeous night. The dynamic pulse of the Gulf faded into the background of their conversations, as the clouds weaved in and out of stars. Through the sheer tent above them, the moon swelled and waned, and Wendy felt her life playing out.

Vivian’s day was almost here.

And it was time for toasts.

Wendy didn’t like toasts so much. She didn’t like that when she would stand to say hers, she would tower over the guests, like they were small kids in a classroom. She met eyes with Claudia, who gave her a tipsy thumbs-up.

“Hello, everyone,” Wendy started, angling herself toward Vivian. “I’m Wendy, for those of you who don’t know me, and that girl in the white has been my best friend since the day I was born. I just didn’t know it yet.”

Obligatory chuckle.

Vivian smiled her cherub smile, all apple cheeks, less halo.

“I met Owen on a retreat to Ohio. He called me Freckles and made me laugh. And I remember thinking that he was a guy I’d like to keep around. Not for myself, of course. He’s far too attractive for me.”

A little louder chuckle. Owen crinkled his nose at her. Wendy went on to talk about how she introduced them, about the first date. And Vivian teared up when Wendy talked about the way everyone just knew that they were the beginning of something big.

“Vivian,” Wendy said, “I’m so happy you found someone who loves your crooked hair, who lets you chip your nail polish on the kitchen counter, who doesn’t expect you to be anything but exactly who you are but still encourages you to be the best version of yourself.

“You two have taught me so much about what real love looks like. And now as you start your life together, just remember, I loved her first.”

Everyone was a little teary when they toasted the happy couple.

Wendy sat and Reese nudged her. “Sappy to the verge of vomit inducing. Good job.”

Simon stood and clinked his knife against his glass.

“Uhh, hello,” he said nervously. “That’ll be a tough one to follow.”

Wendy smiled, but only just a little.

“My name is Simon Guidry, and I’ve known Owen since high school. He was always the guy that everyone wanted to hang around, had that kind of magnetic personality that could make a tree move to get a better listen. But honestly, he sucked when it came to girls.”

This was a big crowd pleaser. Owen’s dad laughed so hard he choked a little bit.

“When I met Vivian, it was a little different. I’d heard so much about her over the years that I felt like I already knew her. But knowing her and Owen together? That was a new thing entirely. They changed each other. They made each other better.”

Wendy felt her champagne bubble up inside of her. She could feel Simon standing over her, his drink supported against his chest. He was a fixture, with his blonde hair and bruised blue eyes; and even now, he was the most beautiful person in the whole damn place.

“Love is a decision. It is not an emotion that we see on movie screens or read about in books. It isn’t the dramatic crescendo that leads to happily ever after. Love is hard work. It’s the decision you make, knowing your differences, knowing your flaws, but choosing anyway, because you can’t imagine life without the other person.”

Wendy watched the ocean. She held an imaginary brush in her hand and pretended to paint on her inner thigh.

And then, Simon dropped his hand, so that it just barely sailed over her knee. He was hardly touching her, but it was enough. Just enough for her to feel.

“Love is choosing each other, not because you know it’s going to work, but because you’d still try, even if it didn’t. To Owen and Vivian, who always choose the right thing.”

Wendy thought she was going to be sick.

I want you to choose me not because you know it’s going to work, but because you’d still try, even if it didn’t.

Those were her words.

From his mouth.

And it felt like a sign, if there ever was one. Then they all toasted, and Wendy finished off her glass.