Julian
Will she ever get to a point where she doesn’t tuck away her thoughts from me? The anxiety, the pain?I want to push, make her talk to me, but I don’t. She does talk to me, open up to me, more and more, tucks it away less and less, but I also know what it’s like to want to forget the shit that fucks with my head. So I never push. And while I want to give this girl everything she could ever want—even a last-minute wedding for her sister that may involve the douchebag that started all the shit back in her hometown—I also want to protect her from anything that might make her break down like that day on the floor of the Brew office.
Seeing her shutdown undid me like only one other thing has in my life. That I didn’t beat the shit out of that fuck is a testament to the work I’ve done to control my temper. How he is the best friend of Via’s fiancé I don’t get. She and Ryan are the epitome of chill. That their two best friends are drama whores doesn’t track. Still, if putting up with them means my girl gets to do a nice thing for her sister, I’m in. With a smile on my face. The event will be on our turf. They don’thave any power here, imagined or real, and I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t relish the idea of showing off the life we’ve made here together to the assholes who tried to break her. My sweet, exquisite Ever, who doesn’t even realize how fucking brave and strong and incredible she is.
We FaceTime Via and Ryan when we arrive at Brew. It’s late in the day, almost sunset. Pete and Shelley join us.
“We can totally pull this off,” I say confidently to the screen, Pete, Shelley and Ever all adding noises of agreement. The happy couple want to do it in the beginning of October—less than a month away—but because it’s going to be small and intimate, all involved parties agree it’s doable.
“Oh my God, Julian. Thank you so much for being willing. All of you. We don’t need much. I promise.” Via is trying not to cry as she says it, but Ryan chimes in, pushing his face into the frame.
“Well, I’m high maintenance. I want a bunch of special shit to make me happy.” He succeeds in making her laugh, though a few tears spill down her cheeks as she does.
They really are super chill. They want a simple, natural event that celebrates not only who they are, but the area they are celebrating at. With a headcount of twenty at the most, we’d be able to make it perfect.
“Of course, Ryan, we’ll get you hair and makeup for the big day,” Ever teases him. “Seriously, Via, it’s going to be perfect. We’ve got this. I even predict an epic sunset to end the day.”
Ever’s excitement is contagious. I want it to be perfect for them and her.
***
For the next three weeks, every waking moment is spent working at Fit and planning the wedding. By the time the day comes around, I admit, I’m glad it will soon be over.
“Allie and Ashley are flying in super early tomorrow before the ceremony. A one-day trip is all they can manage.” I hand Ever the last strand of string lights and hold the ladder steady as she drapes them over the hook in one of the freestanding planters we placed around the garden area. “Ashley has been on my ass to get back to SoCal for more content and business-related things. I keep putting him off because of the wedding.”
“Well, I’m glad they’re coming since my mom can’t. Maybe we can go back right after the wedding for a couple days,” she offers. She steps off the ladder and studies my face. Her brows pull down, making an eleven between them.
I smile, but she’s not easily fooled. To Ever, I play it off as wedding prep and work stress, but inside, if I’m being honest with myself, I’m spiraling a little about the asshole friends coming here and possibly upsetting her. I’m sure there’s some projection psychology in there my therapist would have a field day with—protectiveness, blah, blah, blah. I do want to protect her with everything in me.
She reaches up and wraps her fingers around the tufts of hair forever falling onto my forehead and pulls my face to hers. Her nails scrape deliciously over the top of my head and curl around my neck while her lips kiss mine so light and sweet.
Logically I know the shit with that group of so-called friends isn’t life or death. I know there is no danger, but my nervous system doesn’t see the difference. I’ve grown so attuned to my girl that I know it has her keyed up too. We both pretend her kiss distracts us from whatwe’re not saying. This irrational part of my brain wants to save her from every bad thing or die trying. And that’s the core of the issue. That I possibly could’ve done more three and a half years ago to save a young girl I loved from an irreversible fate.Fuck, I really am projecting.It’s the unconscious lens I see everything through.Will that ever go away?I remind myself for the millionth time that Ever isn’t Taya and this isn’t life or death. It’s a wedding. A celebration. A few hours out of our lives celebrating her sister and soon-to-be brother-in-law.
“Let’s get through the wedding and see.” My eyes bounce back and forth between hers before I touch my lips to hers again. Catching the sinking sun over our beloved Blue Lake behind her, I make myself take some deep breaths. I tell myself that everything is fine. Good. Great, even. Smiling at her, I turn and survey all we’ve done to transform the marina into a fairy tale.
“It’s perfect,” she utters. The twinkle lights everywhere, the arbor, the mason jar candles. Even the new white Adirondacks around the fire pit. Simple, yes. But enchanting. Her arms sneak around me from behind and sneak under my folded arms across my chest.
I lift one and start to turn, but she ducks under my arm and snuggles into my side, looking up from under my chin. The playful, almost childlike grin flips my stomach in the best way.
“We did it.” Her flushed cheeks and breathless words trip my heartbeat. She swivels around me until we’re face-to-face, locking her arms around my hips. She rocks side to side and stares up at me.
I meet her gaze for a few moments and then turn us back to the sunset show. “It’s another good one tonight.” I toss my head toward the ombré sky.
“Mm,” she agrees, but she’s tracking what I’m not saying. “To borrow your line, what’s going on in there?”
“Just reflecting. Making sure we’ve got it all ready for the big day.”
“It’ll be perfect.”
“You already said that,” I tease, quoting her. I’m rewarded with the sweet lilt of her laugh.
“They’re refreshingly easygoing and it’s exactly what they want. Small, simple, intimate,” she elaborates.
“In that case, I think it will be perfect.”
She accepts my words without pressing further, even though I’m sure she knows there’s more.
My low-maintenance girl.I sigh, squeezing her. I’m so lucky.
