“It will be fine. I’m sure she will be lovely,” Katerina offers politely, probably from her years of etiquette training. I could probably use a little of that myself.
“Just so we’re clear, she was my seventh-grade girlfriend… for three months until she dumped me. There’s no real history. I just want you to know.”
She slides her hand down my arm like she’s trying to soothe me. I like that she touched me first. “It’s going to be fine. This is what I’m here for, right?”
“Right.”
Before either of us can dive deeper into that, Anika materializes beside our table like she’s been summoned. Same bright blonde hair I remember, same sunshine smile, same energy of someone who genuinely believes the world is a good place full of good things.
“Scottie,” she says with a bright smile, pulling me into a hug I wasn’t prepared for. “You made it. Your mother said you were coming, and then the last time I saw her, she seemed unsure since you just got married.”
I’m relieved at least to know that my mother told Anika that I got married. Otherwise, if she thought I was coming alone with my mother’s intentions of still getting us together, this could have been awkward.“Would’ve been weird to skip Corey’s wedding. You remember how his mom holds a grudge.” I joke, patting her back.
She laughs and steps back—and then she sees Katerina.
“Oh my gosh, hi.” Anika extends both hands like she’s greeting royalty. “You must be Scottie’s wife. Katerina right?”
Katerina takes her hands, polite and composed, her accent softening her words. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Anika beams. “You’re stunning. I mean—whoa. No wonder he practically vanished off the face of the earth after meeting you.”
“I didn’t vanish,” I say. “I was at practice.”
“Uh-huh.” She smacks my arm playfully and turns back to Katerina. “Seriously, though. I’m so happy for you two. This must be so awkward for you. Sitting next to the girl Scottie’s mom tried to set him up with. But I promise I’m harmless.”
Katerina’s lips twitch. “It’s not awkward.”
I choke on nothing, she lies beautifully… an absolute natural. It must be all that ballet training for when people ask if her shoes are too tight or if having a leotard wedged up her perfect ass is comfortable.
Anika leans between us. “Honestly, I think his mom was just desperate. I was single, he was single… she didn’t want us to die alone. But as soon as she showed me your pictures, I was like, whelp, I’m outmatched. Good for her.”
Katerina actually laughs, soft and warm, and the tension in my shoulders loosen at the sound.
We all take our seats as the DJ announces dinner service in that announcer voice that makes everything sound like a sports broadcast. Anika is still talking animatedly, Katerina is engaging with all the ease of a politician’s daughter, and I sit there watching the two of them and thinking:
Maybe this was supposed to be awkward. Maybe itshouldhave been awkward.
But instead, the only thing I can think is how right it feels having Katerina at my side in my hometown, in my family’s orbit, in this world that built me.
Like she’s the missing piece of a picture I didn’t know was incomplete until she walked down the aisle towards me and I slipped my ring on her finger.
Dinner comes out in waves—salad, rolls, chicken or steak, mashed potatoes with enough butter to clog an artery. Typical Montana wedding fare. Every plate looks like something my mom would serve on a Tuesday night because she “felt like feeding the neighborhood.”
Conversation hums all around us. My aunts argue about which cousin is going to get engaged next. My uncles are already three beers deep and debating elk migration patterns like it’s a life-or-death matter. Kids run between tables because parenting at Montana weddings is a group project.
And right in the middle of it all sits Katerina.
She’s answering questions with that perfectly polite way of hers, but she’s not rigid or stiff; she actually looks like she’s enjoying herself. When my aunt Barb asks where we met, she leans into my arm just a little, the touch light but sure, and says,
“Through my brother Luka. He introduced us.”
And she says it with such quiet sincerity that even I almost forget we didn’t stumble into each other in a grocery store or bar or something normal.
I watch her while conversation swirls around us, and every few seconds she does this little thing: she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, or she laughs under her breath, or she looks up at me when someone asks a question neither of us expected.
Corey’s best man tells a long-winded story about fishing accidents, beer explosions, and why Corey’s bride deserves an award for “taking one for the team by marrying into this family.”
Everyone roars with laughter, but I’m not watching the toast. I’m watching Katerina.
