“I doubt it,” I mutter, knowing too well how in her eyes, I still don’t measure up.
“Why would you say that?” Ryan seems genuinely confused and in a strange way, it makes me feel better. He thinks I’m someone worth bragging about.
“It doesn’t matter. She’s just hard to impress.”
“Sophie and I could do no wrong in our mom’s eyes after my dad left. It was like everything we did had this perfect glow around it.”
The room falls quiet until we hear Duke snoring with rumbling force. I never realized my apartment had such good acoustics. Ryan and I both grin at each other.
“When the divorce was getting finalized, my mom kept telling me that she and my dad met too young. She swore their marriage would have lasted if they started dating in their twenties instead of when they were sixteen.” Ryan’s gaze shifts to the floor before turning it back to me. “You think if we met now instead of in college that things would be different?”
My heart starts to beat faster. “Maybe. But if we didn’t meet in college, you and I might never have spoken at the pre-wedding party.”
“But we would have eventually met at the wedding,” he says.
“True. I’d be stuck in my uncomfortable maid of honor dress and counting down the minutes until I could take off my heels and sneak on the sandals I stashed in my bag.”
“You’d be having a mini-stroke about giving your speech. We’d sneak off to the bar right before to take the edge off.”
“You’d be a bad influence on me.”
“We’d have a great night. You’d talk more than you usually do.”
“You’d talk less thanyouusually do. You’d show me a bunch of pictures of Duke on your phone to butter me up.”
“I knew it would work since you seemed so sweet.”
“And then the night would wind down.”
“I’d ask you for your number.”
“I’d tell you I don’t normally give out my number, but I’d make an exception for you.”
“I’d text you that night and tell you it was great meeting you.”
“I’d wonder if you’d call me the next week.”
“I’d call the next day.”
“And that would be that.”
“That would be that.”
We look at each other, slipping out of our made-up reality and back into the one that actually exists.
I sit up in my chair, straightening out my legs and pulling the blanket up higher. “Or maybe we would have had a cordial first meeting at the pre-wedding party and nothing more. You would have hooked up with one of Cristina’s work friends and we never would have spoken again.”
“You might have met someone else in college and got married young. You’d show up to the wedding in your minivan full of Cheerios crumbs with your husband and five kids.”
“It’s very possible,” I say. “I guess we’ll never know.”
“Guess not.”
I take a slow breath, feeling a little light-headed and confused after our impromptu “what if” role-play. I pause for a second before clapping my hands onto my knees. “I think it’s time to call it a night.” I get up from the chair, pushing off the blanket and leaving it on the ottoman. “If you’re compelled to perform any more jigs this evening, I’d appreciate it if you kept the volume down.”
“I can do that.”
I give him two thumbs up and walk towards my bedroom but stop midway, deciding to take off my sweater to leave in the living room for tomorrow. Facing away from him, I bend my arms behind my back and slip the sweater down. It’s nearly off when my left sleeve somehow gets caught on the claddagh ring I forgot I was wearing on my right hand. My arm is now pinned tightly behind my back like I’m in a straitjacket.
