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By the time I’d checked my phone again, late that night, Oscar had sent me a screenshot to an article about the upcoming season of Love Island, along with a message saying, “Just know that if you insist on us buddy-watching this, Frank’s going to move out.”
I’d snorted and sent him back a link to a Pinterest page I’d come across that had several links to indulgent, over-the-top habitats for pet hedgehogs.
Hugh
Or consider a small bribe. After all, you can’t let these losers out-habitat you. Frank deserves better.
And just like that, we were back on solid ground.
I’d forced myself to download a dating app again and set up a date for the following week, after I returned from the Cape, because Oscar was right. I couldn’t let Louis keep me from pursuing my happy ever after. Then, I’d thrown myself into finishing up the Patrick wedding edits so I could focus on preparing for the job ahead of me.
But this drive had given me unexpected quiet time, and I couldn’t help but examine my feelings for the man whose text messages had become a bright thread weaving through my days.
The fact that I’d called him—called him—while drunk was not a good sign. It meant I’d slipped another inch or two closer to the love precipice. And then, on top of all that, having Oscar joke about me taking him to Abby’s wedding festivities, letting myself think even for a second that I could spend an evening by his side for the first time in a year… Yeah, it was safe to say I’d lost a lot of the “healthy boundaries” I’d managed to cobble together where Oscar was concerned. I was now clinging to friendship mountain by my fingernails, dangling over the chasm, trying hard to hoist myself up so I didn’t fall. Because if I did fall for Oscar…
God.
I was pretty sure Oscar would be able to sense me falling in love with him, the way some dogs could sense an impending earthquake. He’d feel guilty and obligated—because for all that Oscar tried to pretend he was jaded and worldly, he cared deeply for his friends—and he’d probably do something self-sacrificing and heroic, like abandoning our text-friendship so I could get over him and find my HEA…
And he might have a point.
It was already hard to date when I compared every potential romantic prospect to the man blowing up my phone. Charles didn’t get my humor like Oscar, Will didn’t understand my ambition and drive like Oscar, Louis thought Shonda Rhimes was overrated—which, in retrospect, should have been a huge red flag. But how much worse would it be to date other people if I was actually, factually in love with Oscar?
It didn’t bear thinking about. Which was why I absolutely would not fall. I was willing to do nearly anything to ensure it didn’t happen… except try to step away from Oscar again, like I had last November. Frankly, I didn’t know if I could anymore. Not even to save myself.
It was a damn good thing that both of us would probably be too preoccupied to text much this weekend. From the few details my friend Brant had given me when he’d asked me to be his backup photographer, this wedding would be packed with people and activities that would keep me away from my phone. Oscar would no doubt be busy hooking up with some handsome guest at whatever wedding he was attending, if only so he didn’t have to hear any more talk about that silly After-Oscar legend.
Which was good.
Really. The man deserved to have a little fun.
And I was not going to stew over it. At all.
When my phone rang and I saw Abby’s name on the display, I immediately answered.
“Hey!” I said a little desperately. “How are you? Do you have summer school classes today? Tell me everything. Literally everything.”
“Well, hello.” Abby sounded amused. “And here I was worried I might wake you. You’re sounding awfully chipper for, uh… 6:47 a.m.”
“I’ve been on the road for a few hours, on my way to shoot a wedding. Remember my friend Brant, who lives out on the Cape? This wedding’s kind of a family thing for him, and he wants a backup photographer so he can relax and mingle without worrying that he’ll miss any important shots.”
“Smart,” she said. “God, that’s something else I need to add to my wedding to-do list—finding you an assistant photographer so you can enjoy yourself. There’s just so much stuff to think about with this. Now I understand why people elope.”
“You’ve been imagining your wedding since you were five, Abby. You’re not eloping,” I said firmly. “You’re going to have the most perfectly perfect day to celebrate your perfect love. Okay?”
“Yeah,” she sighed. “Yeah, I know, but?—”
“When it comes to the photographer, I’ve got you covered. I’m sure Brant would be happy to reciprocate the favor to assist me at your wedding. And if you need help with other stuff, Rafa can?—”
“Not Rafa.” I could practically hear her eyes roll. “I love the man, but he’s got way too many opinions, and he already texts me about them daily.” Abby hesitated. “Speaking of things I heard from Rafa…”
I knew where this was going. I sighed. “Yes, Louis and I broke up because he’s a giant asshole who used me for clients. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you?—”
“Why didn’t you?” she demanded.
“Because it only happened like seventy-two hours ago and I’ve been busy? Because I didn’t want to worry you? And because?—”
“Listen, my friend Annette from work has an older brother who lives in the Village and works at a fashion design house?—”
