And, most of the time:
No, I most certainlywill notattend a dinner party hosted by the man I’ve been secretly in love with for years.
It’s not a perfect recipe for happiness—but it certainly doesn’t hurt.
Fifteen minutes after talking to Ellie, I drive through the picturesque suburban oasis that is his neighborhood. Lush green lawns, Christmas lights already up even though it’s early November, security system signs in easy-to-spot places.
I park by the curb, grateful to find a spot that doesn’t test my parallel-parking skills, and walk up the path to Ellie and Cat’s front door.
It’s a large, farmhouse-style home, white with black trim. The type of house that saysWehavemoney, but we don’t feel the need to get all modern and weird with it. I knock on the door and glance at the pricey bottle of pinot noir clutched in my left hand, embarrassed by the splurge, like I’m trying too hard to impress.
The door opens, and I have an answer to my question: Dread and excitementcancoexist, and for me they’ve grown so intertwined as to become completely indistinguishable.
Standing just shy of six feet, Elijah Aarons—Ellie to his friends, and, trust me, he considers just about everyone a friend—has aged nicelyfrom the nerdy boy who was once my closest confidant into this man with tanned skin and wavy brown hair just starting to gray at the temples. His face lights up, and a pang hits me straight in the chest.
I am in love with this man, but I would give anything not to be.
“You came.” He wraps me in a hug, and I melt into the warm, spicy scent of his cologne.
Is it just me, or does he hold me a touch too close, linger a little long on the embrace? I had always wondered if the chemistry between us was a figment of my imagination until one night a year before his wedding when he drunkenly admitted that he once harbored the tiniest of crushes on me, only briefly, and ha-ha, wasn’t that funny?I mean, can you imagine?
Could I imagine?
“I said I would.” My words might sound snarky, but he takes my attitude in stride.
Sometimes I think life would be so much easier if, just once, Ellie could be an asshole.
He guides me into the foyer, and I am immediately confronted by… myself. Well, a photo of myself plus eleven other members of Cat and Ellie’s wedding party, all of us gathered around the bride and groom, overenthusiastic smiles plastered on our faces like we justknowthat through this picture, we will serve as an eternal welcoming committee ushering guests into their home.
Seven years later, I still can’t believe Cat made me a bridesmaid. I know Ellie pushed for it, but… still.
That’s the genius of Cat—she’s fake, but she’sconvincing.
I’ve always wished I were better at keeping up pretenses, but I’m too transparent. I’ve had not one buttwoone-night stands call me out on faking orgasms, but I stuck to my guns and denied it—that’s the kind of secret I’ll take to my grave.
My transparency is on full display in the photo. No smile could hidethe misery in my eyes. It’s like I knew that for the rest of our lives, Ellie and Cat would have a picture on their mantel where I look like complete shit, olive skin washed out, every imperfection on my body highlighted by the lavender satin bridesmaid dress Cat chose.
“Alex will be relieved to have you here. The guys love to hound him for financial advice. I swear, if I have to hear him utter the words ‘Buy on the dip’ one more time…”
He shakes his head, amused. I manage a hollow laugh even as the life drains out of me.
Alex is here.
Alex Aquino ishere.
I’m about to see Alex—and Ellie thinks this isgoodnews.
I didn’t expect this. All my dread leading up to tonight, and I didn’t eventhinkto expect this. Ellie and Alex were always closer to acquaintances than friends.
More to the point, last I knew, Alex kind of hated him.
“Alex is here?” For days, I’ve been angsting about tonight, and it turns out I was angsting for entirely the wrong reason. “Great. I haven’t seen him in—” I refuse to think about the last time I saw Alex. “That’s so great.”
Ellie must be distracted because my weirdness doesn’t seem to register.
“He always comes. Gives me hell for it, reminds me how much his time is worth—but he never misses.”
Wait—did Ellie just say that Alexnever missestheir dinner parties? Seriously? I was there when Ellie and Cat debated whether to invite Alex to their wedding. I had been pro-invite. To be fair, my logic had beenWhy not? He’ll buy you the nicest gift on your registry.
