Gavin
“We’re going to be late,”Charlotte says from the passenger seat of my truck as we head west on I-70.
“How can we be late?” I ask. “The wedding isn’t for a week. Also, it’s 9am.”
“Yes, but we have the welcome dinner tonight. Then there’s the bridal shower, skiing, and the cocktail party. Plus, there are bachelor and bachelorette events throughout the week,” she says, sliding her glasses up the thin bridge of her perfect nose as she scrolls through her phone. “Did you call the barbecue guys?”
“Yes, Brett and Madeline will be there this weekend,” I answer as I switch lanes.
“Not this weekend,” she blurts out. “They need to be there Friday!”
“Friday is part of the weekend,” I say, but Charlotte is just shaking her head. “Hey,” I say, reaching out to touch her knee. “It’s going to be fine.”
“Says the man who insisted on going to the gym this morning when we should have already been halfway to Idaho Springs,” she says.
“Listen, I never skip leg day. Not even for my son. Who, by the way, still hasn’t left yet. So we have plenty of time,” I insist.
“Of course they haven’t left yet,” she says exhaustedly. “They’re the bride and groom. They’re not supposed to worry about anything. It’s all supposed to be taken care of by the time they get there.By us. Which is why we need to step on it.”
“Are you like this before every wedding?” I ask, keeping a two-car length between me and the SUV in front of us like I always do.
“Like what?” she asks, pulling out her laptop.
“Frantic,” I say.
“I am not frantic. I am at the perfect level of concern. You forget that this is a paycheck for me, one that I really kind of need right now,” she says.
“And you forget that I am paying you a flat rate that is not dependent on whether things are perfect or not. Even if Brett burns the barbecue and the cake ends up being a two-tiered jalapeno and goat cheese flavored mess, or even if Josie drops her camera off the ski lift, you get paid.” I reassure her, but when I look over at Charlotte, she looks mortified.
“Don’t say things like that!” she wails, but I just snigger.
“Why? I didn’t say any of those things are going to happen.”
“No, but just putting it out into the universe is bad juju.”
I chuckle. “Since when do you believe in juju?”
“Listen. I’ve been in the wedding and event planning industry long enough to know there are some things that happen that cannot be explained. But that doesn’t make them any less real,” she tells me.
“You mean like chemistry?” I ask before biting back a smile.
“Just drive and step on it. I wanted to get there before noon,” she says.
“Stepping on it,” I say, switching lanes again.
Half an hour later, I can no longer step on it because we are at a literal standstill.
“Who knew it would be like this leaving the city on a Sunday?” I ask as we sit in a line of no less than three hundred cars, all stopped at the base of the mountains.
“I did. I knew. And I told you,” she says.
“Seriously, most people are coming back from the mountains at the end of the weekend,” I say.
“Your statistics don’t really matter right now,” she mumbles. I know this is stressing her out really bad, and I don’t want to add to her mood. I don’t think I can handle being stuck in my truck for the foreseeable future with someone who reminds me every thirty seconds that we are going to be late.
“Let’s listen to music,” I say, grabbing my phone. “What do you like?”
“I doubt we have the same taste in music,” she mumbles, staring hopelessly out the window.
