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I laugh half-heartedly at the joke. My smile is cautious, because even though he’s finally loosened up, I’m still wondering what thoughts he’s keeping to himself.
When we arrive at Ben and Alice’s apartment, it’s not a moment too soon. He thanks me for the ride before making his way up the stairs with his bags. I’m still not sure what to make of Theo. Every time I think of him, I see his body sprawled out on the tile floor, shards of glass between his bloodied fingers. Of the pain behind his scratchy throat and the scream that woke half the apartment building. Then I think of him nearly two years later, amiable enough (puke notwithstanding). Smiling like he’s never known the pain he displayed the first night we met. Laughing like he’s never felt the sting of it.
Years have passed, but I still have a bad feeling about him.
“Are you stalking Ben’s brother?”
I snap my laptop shut, and Angela pounces. Bending over my shoulder, she attempts to pry the screen open beneath my splayed hands. I wince but hold on tighter. A few coffee shop patrons turn to stare at us, but she doesn’t even blink. Even in public, she’s not afraid to act like a child.
That’s my best friend, folks.
When I’m finally able to shake her off, she pouts before taking the dark wood chair across from me. “I’m not stalking anyone,” I tell her. “I’m just trying to prove a theory.”
“And what theory would that be?” she asks, raising a brow as she takes a bite of her quiche.
“Doesn’t matter. It’s kinda stupid, and his profile is private anyway,” I say, just as another thought occurs to me. “Unless, he has a Wikipedia page. Football fans care about that kind of shit, right?”
“Well, I suppose this is better than pining over the groom-to-be,” Angela notes with a casual tone as she takes another bite. I scowl at her, but she remains unfazed. “Though, I’m not sure if it’s the step up it should be, given they’re related. But they’re not close, and Theo doesn’t live in town, so maybe he’s the perfect rebound candidate for you after all.”
“I’m not into him.” I roll my eyes at the mere suggestion. “I just have… a weird feeling about him.”
“Weird how?” she asks. “He’s such a sweetheart, and not to mention a total babe. You should hear the way Alice’s friends talk about him. It’s indecent, and that’s putting it lightly.” I’m well aware. I sat next to Christine the last time Theo was in town, and all she could talk about were the things she wanted to do to him. Then again, since college Angela has always been closer to them than I have, so I can’t imagine the kind of intel she’s privy to.
“We don’t know that he’s a ‘sweetheart.’ We barely know him at all,” I argue. “There’s a wildcard at every wedding, and something’s telling me it’s him.”
I may not know the reason behind the rift between Theo and Ben, but I know it was intentional on Theo’s part. Before he visited Ben the night we met, they hadn’t spoken a word to each other in two years. No matter how many times Ben tried reaching out to him, he was met with silence. I may not know much about Theo, but I know enough to be wary.
“The dude covered for Alice’s pregnancy scare a few years ago at brunch.” My head snaps up from my computer screen. What? “He called it ‘drinking for two,’ and puked in a ficus. There’s nothing not sweet about that.”
But my mind is still stuck on what she said before. Pregnancy scare? How come I never knew about that? The thought of Ben and Alice with a baby makes me want to puke. Now that they’re about to get married, I can only assume they’re not that far off from starting a family. But to think, they could’ve gotten there so much sooner…
“You sure you’re not just projecting? Maybe you’re the wildcard.” My mouth falls open in a near-gasp at Angela’s suggestion. In the end, the only sound that comes out is a pitiful squeak.
“What? I know what you’re capable of with enough alcohol in your system. Open bar is probably a bad call on the happy couple’s part.”
“Enough.” My heart is racing. I have to force myself to take a deep breath. “Maybe I am projecting, but I would never willingly try to ruin their engagement. You know that, right?”
My stomach flips as she swallows another bite of quiche. I’m more anxious than I’d like to be as I wait for her response. Breaking them up is one of my biggest fears should anyone else, especially Alice, find out about my feelings for Ben. I’d never forgive myself for blowing up a committed relationship, least of all one that’s been going on for eight years and resulted in an engagement. The fact that Angela seems to think I’m capable of—or even willing—to do something like that makes me want to crawl out of my skin and hide under a rock in shame.
“I know.” Her eyes soften as she gauges my hurt expression. “But I also know what heartbreak can do to a person. Take care of yourself, Marcela. Even if it means keeping your distance.”
“Wait, what do you mean?” I ask her. “Are you saying I shouldn’t go to their engagement party?”
“I’m saying”—she leans forward—“be careful. Don’t push yourself to a breaking point for the sake of keeping up appearances.”
I have no idea what to say to that.
Three
A pathway of paper lanterns leads to the outdoor patio of the Gardens, where white cloth–covered round tables are set up on a raised platform. The surrounding oak trees are wrapped in string lights and, as if that wasn’t magical enough, Edison lamps trail down from the highest branches. I reach out and touch one of the bulbs as I make my way up the path, the glass warm in my palm. The venue is like something straight out of my Pinterest wedding board, which only makes this whole ordeal so much worse.
I’m thirty minutes late on purpose, and I plan to leave at least thirty minutes early as well. As much as I value Ben’s friendship, there’s no way I can stand to be here for the entire party. The tables are mostly filled, large gatherings of people making idle chitchat while sipping from champagne flutes. The breeze lifts my carefully styled hair, blowing it back in my face. I unstick pieces of hair from my lip gloss and smooth the strands behind my ears. At least my lavender dress is fitted, so I don’t have to worry about pulling a Marilyn Monroe in front of Alice’s grandparents. Talk about awkward.
I sit at a table surrounded by Alice’s sorority sisters from college, fingers tapping impatiently as I wait for Angela to arrive. Damn her for running late to everything. Christine is talking animatedly to anyone who will listen about her plan to jump Theo’s bones tonight. Nothing I haven’t heard from her before. When Alice and I drifted apart, I drifted toward Angela and she drifted toward Christine. Much like my best friend, Christine is beautiful but in a smug sort of way. Her light brown hair falls in a sleek curtain over her shoulders, no frizz or flyaways in sight, almost the same coloring as her golden skin tone, which is straight from a St. Tropez bottle. Her lips are always painted a bold red, the promise of poison no prey can resist. I’ve seen men and women fall at her feet, and I don’t blame them for a second.
When Christine smiles at me, chills run up and down my back. It’s a knowing sort of smile, much like Alice’s knowing gaze. Piercing. Taunting in the way of a Bachelor villain just before they bounce away to tell the lead you’re here for the wrong reasons. It doesn’t help my case that I’ve worn guilt as a second skin for years. I shudder at what the two of them must think of me. I’m suddenly conscious of all the ways my dress pinches my skin, the zipper that suddenly feels too tight for me to breathe properly. It’s only once Christine returns to her conversation that I’m able to catch my breath.
I’m only half listening to what she’s saying as I twirl the straw in my raspberry mojito before slugging it down in three giant gulps. Then I spot Ben and Alice standing together across the grass. Ben smooths back a stray strand of hair from Alice’s face, and then his hand cups her cheek. She smiles up at him like he’s the only one around them, like they share a secret the rest of us aren’t in on.
