I nod my head, moving forward to wrap my arms around his waist.
We’ll be okay.
He thinks we’re going to be okay.
I wish I believed him.
The next morning, I wake up again to an empty bed. It’s quiet. No running shower water or murmurs of the TV in the other room. I sit up and Ryan is nowhere to be seen. My apartment, which would once seem perfectly normal in this state, now seems deserted.
I get out of bed and walk into the living room. Duke is resting on the floor next to the ottoman as Ryan sits in my reading chair. He looks up at me with a small smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. I return it with one of my own as I cross the room, standing beside him and rubbing the back of his neck with my hand. “Good morning.”
“Morning,” he answers.
“I have to head over to Cristina’s to start getting ready soon. You’re meeting Jason and the guys at the hotel, right?”
Ryan nods. He looks tired.
“Are you feeling all right?”
He takes my hand from his neck and squeezes it in his own. “I’m fine.”
I walk around the chair and sit on his lap, pushing my hand into his sandy hair that always looks darker when we’re inside. He nestles me close and inhales against the top of my chest through my T-shirt.
“You don’t seem fine. Are you upset because today will officially prove that Jason loves Cristina more than you?”
A grin tugs at the corner of his mouth as he nudges at my chin with the tip of his nose. “Who told you?”
“Lucky guess,” I answer.
We sink deeper into the chair and he brushes the front strands of my hair off my face as he kisses me. Despite his gentleness, he still seems somehow absent.
“Are you sure you’re...” He cuts me off with a searing kiss and I’m lulled into a state where I forget my worries. Right now, in my head and my heart, nothing exists outside of us.
17
Cristina and Jason’s wedding is more beautiful than I ever could have imagined. The venue, Manhattan Penthouse on Fifth, seems perched above the world, with the arched windows revealing jaw-dropping views of the Freedom Tower to the south and the Empire State Building to the north. Flowers and candles are everywhere, mixing seamlessly with the elegant but modern decor.
The ceremony drifts by, smooth as a dream as Cristina floats down the aisle toCanon in D, played live on a solo acoustic guitar. Jason has noticeable tears in his eyes as he watches her walk towards him, and I can only thank the Lord that I wrapped tissues around the base of my bouquet because I needed every single one plus twenty-five more.
They recite traditional vows and I try not to melt as Ryan steals looks at me as they speak them. I can’t stop from thinking that maybe, one day, this could be us—that we could have this.
After the ceremony, we take pictures in the street, working through the cocktail hour. We pose in every scenario humanly possible and then some. Ryan and I are never paired together since I’m matched up with the best man, Jason’s balding but very nice older brother. At one point I stand next to Ryan for a group shot and he holds my hand behind our backs, leaving me feeling as nauseously excited as I did the first time a boy held my hand in a movie theater when I was thirteen.
Cristina and Jason are now having their first dance as all two hundred and eighty guests circle the dance floor, smiling and catching the eyes of their dates—enjoying watching how in love they are.
I’m about to go on the hunt for more tissues when I feel a familiar hand on the small of my back.
“What’s the verdict, Sullivan? You think they’ll make it?” Ryan’s breath is warm on my ear as he leans in close. He smells like shaving cream, whiskey and home.
I keep watching Jason and Cristina and breathe in deep. “Of course they’ll make it.”
“What makes you so sure?”
Their romantic song reaches its final notes and the fifteen-piece band slides right into another romantic slow number. One of the singers invites all couples onto the dance floor and Ryan silently slips his fingers through mine, pulling us into the mix. I link my arms around his broad shoulders as he holds my hand and waist. We leave zero room for the Holy Spirit as we both instinctually step closer, swaying and spinning to the soft melody.
“I’m just sure,” I say. “Jason and Cristina both know what they want and they know who they are.”
“That must be nice.”
