“I am.”
“No, you’re not.” He chuckled.
“This isn’t my cup of tea.”
“What is?”
“You’re asking me what I’d rather be doing?” I remember thinkinganything but this. I didn’t say that, though.
“Yeah. What would you rather be doing?”
“Honestly, I’d rather be home in my leggings and a T-shirt eating popcorn or, better yet, ice cream, watching one of my favorite old movies.”
“You’re awfully young to be hiding away at home. Why don’t you like things like this?” His thumb gestures toward the reception area.
“I’m not that young, but it’s just how I am. I guess you could call me introverted.”
“You seem pretty outgoing to me.”
“That’s because you’re….–”
“I’m what?”
I turned a little bit so I could look at him. “I think you’re a little like me. Only grumpier.”
Alec graced me with a little smile. He sipped his drink, which looked like some kind of whiskey. “I’m a little like that, but I’d say I’m more…”
Not wanting to wait to hear what he was going to say next, I asked, “You’re more what?”
“…like an onion.”
I immediately cracked up because I’m the one who told him that at our secret rehearsals when I realized there is more to Alec Marchesani than his bad moods. He didn’t understand the expression, so I explained it like this. “You’ve got layers, Alec. There’s more to you than the grouchy façade you seem to show everyone. Deep down, beneath those onion-y layers, you’re a nice guy. I know it.”
His response? “Bullshit.” But, then he laughed, like he’s doing now.
“That you are, Alec. You really are an onion.”
Back in the moment, I declare, “You know how weddings are, Kimmy. We were thrown together a lot that week. He was just being nice.”
Just then, Kimmy does something I don’t expect. She slides out of the booth and marches to the door. I do the same, only I leave a tip on the table since we had to pay for our drinks when they were unceremoniously dropped off at our table. Literally. Rum and Coke was all over our table. “Kimmy?” I jog to catch up to her. Outside, she’s halfway down the block, but I’m able to catch up to her. “Wait up.”
She stops and turns. Are those tears? “You’re not crying, are you?”
“Yes.” She sniffles.
“Why?”
“Because, Mattie, you’re making me sad.”
Making her sad? That doesn’t sound like something I’d do. I make it my mission to try to make people happy, most of the time. “I didn’t mean to. I don’t want you to be sad.” Not about me.
Kimmy takes a swipe at her cheek. “I just wish you could see what I do.”
“I know.”
She steps closer and wraps her arms around me. It’s a nice hug. “If you don’t want me to be sad, just do one thing for me.”
Uh-oh. “All right.”
