At eleven a.m.,Zoe sends me a text:
Zoe
Shondra (wedding planner) having contractions she’s sure are Braxton Hicks, but the doc wants her to get checked out so I’m covering for the day! Yay! I always wanted to be a wedding planner, so I could steal Matthew McConaughey or similar from an unworthy bride.
Anyway, full schedule so you probably won’t see me today. Wish me luck!
This both wakes me and frees me to spend the day however I want.
That seems to be mainly sitting around trying not to think about George. No small feat, considering I am living in his apartment. But the alternative, actually leaving, seems so far out of reach it’s laughable.
I’ve managed to eat a two-day-old bagel I have lying around, and that’s about it. It’s around two p.m. when I decide maybeI should collect the morning paper from the hallway. I haven’t bothered to get dressed or perform any basic acts of hygiene, so I’m in my pajamas, unshaven, hair probably sticking out in all directions, when I open the door and find Raj and Marty standing there, locked together, kissing like teenagers.
I attempt a hasty retreat, but knock into the door frame as I back away and drop the paper. They stop mid-kiss.
Raj blushes and smacks Marty playfully. Marty laughs.
“Sorry, we were—” He stops as he turns and takes me in. His brows knit in concern. “Are you okay, Owen?”
It’s not like I thought I was hiding it well, but I could have lived without the confirmation that I look as shitty as I feel.
“I’m fine.”
He turns to look at Raj. Raj raises an eyebrow.
“Okay, if you’re sure.”
“I am.” I force a smile. “You guys have a great day.”
“Sure,” says Marty.
“You too,” Raj adds.
I close the door, lock the chain, and lean against the cool wood, tilting my head back. I wonder if taking a nap would be too pathetic?
By early evening,I’ve managed to get myself dressed, so… I guess, yay, me?
Zoe’s still a no-show. She texted again a while ago.
Zoe
Park Palace had the wrong guest count - no idea how that happened! Now they say the room’s at capacity. Working with them to remeasure and see if we can reconfigure, since I still haven’t heard back from Shondra. Hope you found something fun to do!
She was probably thinking something a little more glamorous than lying propped up on the couch, doing the New York Times crossword puzzle, but that is exactly what I’m doing. Well, sort of. Pretty sure I threw the whole thing off a dozen moves ago with a wrong answer, but I don’t have the energy to care.
There’s a knock at the door. Maybe Zoe finished earlier than she thought. I’m mentally preparing excuses for whatever she’s about to propose as I go to the door. But when I open it, it’s not Zo. It’s Raj and Marty again, loaded down with bags of what appears to be Chinese takeout, and both smiling.
“Hello, Owen.” Raj breezes past me, already heading into the kitchen before I can say a word.
Marty pats my shoulder as he goes by. “Why don’t you have a seat? We’re just going to get some plates and silverware. Or do you prefer chopsticks?”
“Um.” I close the door. It doesn’t seem like there’s much point in protesting. “Either is okay. I guess?”
Working in unison, they bustle very efficiently around the kitchen. Getting glasses, plates, napkins, serving spoons. Marty produces a bottle of wine from a bag I hadn’t noticed before, and Raj pops the cork.
“I hope you don’t mind vegetarian,” he says, pouring us each a glass.
“No, that’s… that’s fine.” They buzz around me for another minute or two, while I just stand there watching.
