Page 11 of Kiss Slay Replay

“If leaving was the right thing, then why does it still feel this bad?”

“It’ll take time. The wound isn’t healed yet. But you’re gonna rip off that Band-Aid anyway, and you’re gonna be all right.”

“Or I’ll catch one of those rare, dreadful infections that’ll land me on the news.”

“Or that. But then you’ll be famous.”

“Such an optimist.”

“I am known for my positive outlook,” she says. “Now come on. Let’s finish getting you dressed so you can go have the worst night of your life.”

And there it is, the divine medicine of laughter. True magic.

In this moment, in these spare seconds, everything is right with the world because I’m with Cassie and she has me laughing. It’s fleeting, it won’t stave off the hurt forever. But it’s something. It’s enough for now.

If only I could bottle it for later.

4

I stand in front of the mirror scrutinizing my reflection. Cassie salvaged my hair, swept it back into a stylishly messy bun. My makeup is fine. Maybe a little too much, but there’s nothing I can do about it now. I gently sweep under my eyes with a Q-tip, eliminating rogue flakes of mascara.

The dress isn’t a complete disaster. Plain, black. Loose but not wholly unflattering. Paired with my red strappy heels, red beaded clutch, and some jewelry it’s wedding appropriate. Not a knockout, but it’s not the worst.

I finally tear myself away from the mirror and step out into the living room.

“You look amazing,” Evan says, giving me a hug. “And you smell like a bachelorette party.”

“Are you serious?”

“Evan,” Cassie says, reaching into her bra and adjusting her cleavage. “Not now.”

“I’m only joking,” he says. “You have nothing to worry about, Willa.”

“Of course not.” I’m fucking vibrating with nerves. I dig my nails into my palms, nibble on my inner lip. There is no calming down. No preparing. I need to accept what’s about to happen. What I’m about to see. Who I’m about to see.

“We all set to go?” Wyatt asks, scratching his neck. He’s not used to wearing a tie. He hates it.

“All set!” Luke says, holding the cabin door open for us. He slaps Cassie’s ass on her way out and she calls him a pig before making a crude sexual gesture and giving him a wink. It’s all very sweet and nauseating. Their relationship has changed over the years. Since marriage. Since the suburbs. Since Theo. Cassie getting increasingly uptight, Luke further mellowing to accommodate. They used to be the couple that would fight in front of everyone, that would hook up in front of everyone. All passion. If they’ve managed to maintain it, they’ve moved it behind closed doors. Cassie will still get on Luke’s case, but it’s not the same.

To have this brief glimpse at their old dynamic instigates a surprising jealousy. What if I was pining after an old version of a love that I could never get back, and it made me blind to any possible future?

Or…what if I’m just spiraling? What if that?

“Hold up! I want a picture,” Luke says. We pose in front of the cabin, and he takes a selfie.

“My phone, too,” Evan says.

It turns into a whole photo shoot. My cheeks hurt from forcing a smile.

Then the group starts down the path toward the lake. I wish I could feel some strength in numbers, but I don’t. It’s all happening too fast. Before, this weekend was an abstract thing. A problem for future me. I always seem to forget that future me will eventually be present me. Then I’m angry at past me, but there’s nothing I can do about it.

We’re getting close. I can hear live music. Steph hired musicians for the ceremony—a married couple who play piano and acoustic guitar, who are mildly YouTube-famous. There will be a DJ for the reception, thank God. I’m so fragile right now a mediocre wedding band cover of “Single Ladies” really might do me in.

“Okay, Wills,” Cass says. “You ready?”

My gaze travels ahead toward the charming party setup—mismatched vintage couches and chairs and high cocktail tables topped with mini lanterns and a mobile bar operating out of a restored retro silver Airstream. Just beyond that are rows of chairs facing the water, an aisle cutting through leading to a delicate lattice awning draped with gauzy fabric that dances erratically in the wind, lights blinking underneath like hostage fireflies.

There are three tall floral arches that separate us from the wedding. The loveliest gate.