George leans back against his seat and rolls his head to look at me. “But good, right?”
“Yeah. Very good.”
When the train gets to Grand Central, we waste no time. We catch a cab and are on our way. We don’t know how much time we have, of course, but as of Zoe’s last text, the elevator is still stuck, and all the guests are pretty much standing around drinking, so our plan is just to keep moving and hope for the best.
Somewhere in the low-fifties, though, traffic grinds to a stop.
“Fuck,” says George.
“Should we make a break for it?” I ask.
“What, like, run through the streets? In the cold. On New Year’s Eve?”
“Exactly. Like at the end of a rom-com.”
“The end of a rom-com where both characters run to one of their ex-boyfriend’s wedding?”
“Work with me, George.”
I hold out my hand. He slips his into it, warm and steady and right. “Yeah, okay.”
CHAPTER 57
GEORGE
We arrivein front of the Park Palace Hotel, breathless and somehow simultaneously sweaty and freezing. We have navigated street performers, food trucks, several groups of drunk twenty-somethings, and myriad other New-Year’s-Eve-in-New-York-type obstacles.
Last I checked, Robert Ryan and groomsman number two were still caught in the elevator. Luca and Cory were still unaware that their rings were not in the building. And Owen and I were still having a delightful if surreal time together. I mean, realistically, I think I would enjoy spending a week in bed with the flu with Owen.
Okay, no. I think my brain has been deprived of oxygen after running the last ten blocks. I do not need to be thinking about spending a week in bed with Owen in any way, shape, or form right now.
I take in the grand entrance to the hotel. I did my damnedest to avoid having to be anywhere near this place tonight, and yet here I am. Might as well get this over with. I start to push through the revolving door, but Owen—who is still holding my hand—swoon—pulls back.
“I’m going to wait out here,” he says. He looks uneasy. He looks… like a guy who doesn’t like to leave his little cabin in his little town. Right. Somewhere in the middle of all the texting and talking and… other things… I forgot. This is what he’s like with most people. Especially, I realize, as I take in his wary look through the glass doors, maybe the kind of people who would be at an exclusive Park Palace wedding.
Only I don’t want to leave him out here. I want him with me. I just found him. I just got him back. And I don’t mind if he’s shy. Of course I don’t. But Idoneed him to know he’s welcome anywhere and everywhere I am.
“You can stay out here if you want to. But I’d really like it if you came in with me.”
He looks between me and the lobby again. Chews his lip. “I am kind of curious to see Robert Ryan in person. I’ve always thought he was kind of hot.”
“I’m going to forget you said that.” I grin.
Inside, we find half the wedding guests milling around the lobby, watching some maintenance guys work on the elevator like it’s a spectator sport.
The usual suspects are here, all in their black-tie optional finest: many of Luca and my mutual friends, Jonathan Alcott, an actor I recognize from the TV show where Cory first made his name, a bunch of Luca’s coworkers from 24NN. There’s also a loudly dressed middle-aged woman pacing around in front of the elevator doors, talking into her phone at unusual volume. In the corner, there’s that vlogger who always does the queer New York stories, filming himself in front of the whole scene as ifhewere the foreign correspondent, not Luca.
A few people I know wave or raise their glasses in greeting, but if I thought anyone was going to take particular notice of me and Owen slipping into the place late and underdressed, I was wrong.
“George!” I swivel around just in time to be pulled into a full-on hug by my ex-boyfriend.Notthe reception I would have anticipated. He holds me extra tight. “I’m so glad you decided to come. Zoe said you were inVermont. She’s a great friend, but a terrible liar. Anyway, you’re late, but you’re in luck because Ryan got himself stuck in the elevator, so we’ve had to delay. I’m really glad you’re here.” He gives me another squeeze before he steps back and finally notices Owen, standing awkwardly next to us. “Oh. Hello.”
“Owen, Luca. Luca, Owen.” Owen gives Luca a little wave.
Luca nods. “Oh, right. Zoe’s cousin. From…” He looks me up and down, taking in my attire, notably Owen’s red snowflake sweater, which I am still wearing. “You were in Vermont.”
“I was. But I came back to give you these.” I place the pouches with the rings in them into his palm. He looks down at them. His eyes go wide.
Owen winces apologetically, “There was a little mix-up with…” He holds open his coat to reveal the suit jacket underneath.
