We’re not done now, and we won’t be done tomorrow, or any of the tomorrows after that.
I love you and I need you. Come back to me.
Patrick
The envelope fell to the ground and I marched straight into the shower. My backside hit the cold granite tile of the floor, and I pressed my wrist against my mouth while the spray of the shower washed away my sobs.
Chapter Twenty-Five
PATRICK
The ring twistedbetween my thumb and forefinger, the fine mill-grained detail pressing into my skin and leaving a dotted trail on the pads of my fingers. Set in a delicate constellation of five diamonds, each one spat fire into the setting sunlight. Five probably represented something. Matt was meticulous like that.
Minutes to feel a connection. Hours to fall in love with her. Days to knowing they couldn’t survive apart. Months since getting engaged. Kids they wanted.
“Why don’t you let me hold onto that?”
After a quick glance at Nick, the pad of my thumb passed over the stones, and I handed it to him. He secured it inside its velvet box, and unbuttoned his suit coat to stow it in his pocket.
It was too easy for me to destroy everything I touched like a tractor in a fucking china shop to be responsible for Lauren’s wedding ring.
It had been hours,hours, since leaving the letter at Andy’s door, and nothing. No texts, no calls, no smoke signals, no sight of her anywhere. I left my spleen in that envelope, and if forced to choose between nail-gunning my hand to a wall and waiting for a response from Andy, here’s to hoping my tetanus shot was up-to-date.
Nick’s hand curled around my elbow, and he jerked me out of my seat while on my other side, Sam kicked my shin. “Where I’m from, it’s customary to stand for the bride,” Nick hissed.
A string quartet played Coldplay’s “Green Eyes” and I didn’t need to look at Matt to know he was beaming like a love-drunk fool, or his fingers were closed around my mother’s handkerchief. I shuffled to my feet, turning to watch Lauren step out of the inn on her father’s arm. Commodore Halsted wore the Navy’s dress uniform well, and Lauren was beautiful in a cotton candy pink dress.
The dress Andy picked out.
I searched the crowd for her wild hair, finally spotting her on the far end of the back row. Big sunglasses obscured her face, and she was sitting ramrod straight with her chin tilted up. Spine of steel. Her hair was pulled into a knot that resembled a bagel, and it was mildly absurd. Given the location, a seagull was bound to attack at any moment.
She ordered the strapless indigo dress online during a late March snowstorm that trapped us in my apartment for a long weekend. Pockets were cut into the full knee-length skirt, and she found that appropriately quirky while I saw it as an opportunity to do filthy things to her in broad daylight.
By all measures, the perfect dress.
The perfect weekend. Not so unlike each one I spent with her.
The need to remind her of that perfection pressed into my sternum, and I swiped my phone to life. Warning her about dive-bombing seagulls was also a critical concern.
“Oh my fucking God,” Sam seethed, and he snatched my phone away. “Not now, you moron.” Sam leaned around me and met Nick’s annoyed expression. “Can you get him a shot of chlorpromazine or diazepam?”
“Dude, it’s weird that you know what those are, and I don’t usually roll with Schedule IV substances.”
“Operative word being ‘usually.’” Sam locked my phone and tucked it inside his breast pocket. “And by that, I can deduce that you have enough drugs to take out the A-Team over there.” Sam nodded toward Lauren’s brothers.
“You mean Thor and Captain America?” I asked. “Unless you have a tranq gun, Acevedo, none of us are taking them anywhere.”
We broke into poorly concealed laughter, and Matt killed us with his eyes six, probably seven times.
I wanted to gaze at Andy for hours, but Sam and Nick’s hands on my shoulders forced me into my seat when Lauren arrived at the altar, and their jabbing elbows eventually turned my attention toward the ceremony. It was over quickly, or at least the parts I listened to were over quickly. Tuning out syrupy promises of love and devotion was elemental to my survival, especially when I didn’t have a flask of whiskey on hand.
Andy dissolved into the crowd once Matt and Lauren were down the aisle, and Sam dragged me by the collar to pose for photos. After eighteen thousand different groupings and poses, I started to protest the activity but realized we were together, our new family, for the first time. There wasn’t much else to hold onto without them.
I shut up, going along with every one of the photographer’s mundane requests. Was anyone clear on why it was necessary for us to execute a synchronized jump?
“Where is Andy?” Lauren asked, standing on her tiptoes to see into the tent. She turned back to the assembly and met my eye with a smile. “I want her here, too.”
The photographer’s assistant scurried into the tent, returning moments later with Andy in tow. She shared a firm hug with Lauren, and nodded at something she said. Lauren gestured to the far end of the pose, where I stood with Erin on my right. “Right there, between these two.”
