Something in her voice gives me pause.
I glance over my shoulder. “What’s up?”
She bites her bottom lip, hesitant. “Can you sit for a minute? I…I kind of need to ask you something. About marriage.”
That earns a blink. “Wow, ok. Give me two minutes to grab my dress, and I’m all yours.”
When I return, she’s already cleared the popcorn and made tea because of course she has.
I settle onto the couch beside her. “Alright, shoot.”
She fidgets with the string of her hoodie. “So, this is going to sound dumb, but when you and Lucas got married, even though it was like, wild and fast, I kind of thought, ok, maybe this is what happens when people are in love. Like, when you know, you know, right?”
I stare at her. “Stella. You do remember that we were both wildly drunk in Vegas, right?”
She nods quickly. “Yes! Yes. I mean, I get that. And I know you’ve explained that it’s more complicated. But I guess what I’m wondering is, how do you actually know when it’s real?”
Ah. There it is.
I take a breath. “Are we still talking about me?”
Stella blushes. “Maybe.”
“Does this have anything to do with Mason-from-the-elevator?”
Her eyes widen. “No. Maybe. I just, I don’t know. Every time I see him, I feel ridiculous.”
I lean back, folding my arms. “Let me guess. He’s hot. He smells good. He once held the door for you and said, ‘After you,’ and your soul left your body.”
She covers her face. “I’m never telling you anything again.”
I bite back a laugh. “Stella. Girl.”
“I know,” she moans, hiding her face behind a couch pillow. “I know it’s ridiculous. But I’ve built up this entire fantasy in my head. We run into each other while I’m carrying groceries, and he helps me with the door. Then we’re talking and laughing, and the next thing you know, we’re watching rom-com movies together on his couch, and he’s brushing my hair behind my ear like?—”
“Like a Hallmark character who just came back from three years abroad?”
“Exactly!” She drops the pillow. “But in real life, he doesn’t know my name and probably thinks I’m a teenager.”
“You’re a grown-ass woman, who happens to be an excellent talent agent.”
“Yeah, but I give off ‘first-job energy.’ And he definitely gives off ‘has a home espresso machine’ energy.”
I laugh. “It’s ok. We’ve all been there. But listen. Wanting someone to notice you is not the same thing as knowing they’re right for you.”
“But how do you know?” she whispers.
I think about Lucas, about the way he looks at me when my guard is down and the way I feel when I’m around him: seen, challenged, steady and unsteady all at once.
“You know,” I say carefully, “when you feel like yourselfaround them. Not just the shiny parts you show the world, but the weird, scared, messy parts, too.”
She nods slowly. “That’s what I want.”
I lean back into the couch, sipping my wine. “You know who actually sets the bar crazy high?”
“Who?”
“Brandon.”
