“Drew…” I hold my breath.
So many minuscule choices fell into the blender of my life and churned out the sludgiest smoothie imaginable. Instead of gulping it down with my nose plugged—not like I could do that anyway in my present state—I’m throwing it out and starting a new one from scratch. Something heathy with, like, acai and shit. Something Doop might feature on their website.
Lord, help me.
I’m tired of being stuck in the same spot, doing the same things that aren’t working anymore. Forget my arbitrary rules and my refrain offrom afar…Comedy has hurt me a thousand times over, but Drew—gentle, careful, sweet Drew—would never,couldnever.
Finally, he nods, a roguishness flitting across his expression. “Then, I’ll be your date.”
“Really?” Suddenly my last hope feels utterly hopeful.
“Yeah,” he says, checking on the pasta. “You know how many romance books I’ve read. I may not have been to many weddings before, but I’ve picked up so much. I’m going to be the best damn wedding date. Even a fictional character couldn’t compare.”
If Drew and I were characters in one of those books, we’d go into the wedding as friends and come out as romantic partners. I clutch tight to that burst of hope and ignore the niggling in my gut that screamsWhat about your dreams?Because maybe having it all was asking the universe for far too much.
Stardom was a shot in the dark, and Drew is the light at the end of a long tunnel.
“I’m looking forward to it,” I say, heart fluttering, and for the first time when talking about CeeCee’s wedding, I realize I’m telling the truth.
PART TWO
CLEAR QUARTZ
Look deep within
Chapter Eight
Love is in the air.
Literally.
From the trellised roof of the outdoor space, heart-shaped golden bulbs hang down over the venue. Even turned off, they sparkle, catching the fading spring sun as they twist in the breeze. It’s beautiful, and my excitement hasn’t waned.
Love is by my side.
Drew stands to my right, holding my hand in his as the wedding photographer sets up for the pre-ceremony family portraits.
I don’t know if it’s the ambiance, the way Drew’s blue tie brings out his eyes, or the last six days that we’ve spent excitedly talking about how wasted we plan to get while dancing our asses off, but whatever the case, I think tonight’s the night I tell Drew about my withheld feelings.
Love is…about to get real.
As if this day weren’t massive enough.
My parents stand nearby, glancing around like they hope someone will ask them to be of service. Mom’s in a peacock-blue lace dress with short sleeves and buttons up the front. The color complements her every-season tan. Mom loves the sun and it loves her right back.
Dad, much pastier given his aversion to anything outdoors, wears a tan suit with a matching peacock-blue tie. He looks like a high schooler costumed for the spring musical, waiting for his cue togo on. Dad lives in Wranglers and old T-shirts at the hardware store he and my uncle own and work at.
Well,workedat. Ever since his depression diagnosis, he’s stepped back from the day-to-day. Uncle Stew has him working from home, making calls, filing papers. I can imagine this isolation makes the depression worse, but as CeeCee likes to remind me, I’m not a doctor, so my input is unwelcome.
And he seems in good spirits today. They both do. That’s what counts.
“Are you sure you’re not in too much pain, Nolan?” Mom asks for the third time today, over-worrying the way she’s prone to. Better than last night at the rehearsal dinner when she spent half the meal on WebMD seeing if there were any chronic conditions or lingering symptoms that could spring up after a fractured nose.
“I’m fine. I promise.” Drew squeezes my hand tighter, and the sentiment grows truer. This week alone, Drew accompanied me to my ENT appointment, surprise ordered us takeout from my favorite Italian restaurant, and even let me choose what we watched curled up on the couch on Thursday night. It’s been bliss—comedy and the club the furthest things from my mind.
Until Dad asks, “What is it you were doing again?” I was sparse with the details when I called them (work, accident, ow).
Mom jumps in. “Did you forget to wear the nonslip shoes I ordered you? If you’re going to continue working in a kitchen, you have to be more careful.”
