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Emma.
Who boldly stood in front of a camera at fifteen and said she was going to marry me.
Emma, whose eyes filled with tears the other day when I told her that, once upon a time, I did want her.
Emma, who stood inches away from me in my kitchen and leaned into my touch.
I stop the thought.
Juliet’s still talking.
“Honestly, I don’t know why I was freaking out so much. Wedding nerves, I guess. It’s just crazy how real the whole cold-feet thing is. You just don’t know until you know. That’s why I think I may have been too hard on you.”
I force myself to look at her.
“Emma was right, though.” She smiles back at me lovingly. “You are the dream.”
My lips lift, a pathetic attempt at a smile.
The waiter comes over and asks Juliet about her meal, clearing away our empty plates, giving me a few seconds to process. And suddenly, I understand something I don’t want to understand.
Emma stepped aside in high school.
She thought I’d chosen Juliet after college, so she got out of the way again.
And now she’s reassured Juliet.
Told her to marry me.
It’s not because she’s never felt anything for me.
It’s for Juliet.
A piece of my heart breaks.
Because that’s what Emma does. She puts everyone else first.
“Vinny?”
I look back at Juliet. “Sorry. What?”
“Are you ready to go?”
“Yeah.” I scoot my chair back, going through the motions of being a good date.
Juliet links her arm through mine, chatting about her list of wedding things she still needs to do before Saturday as we walk out to the car.
I ask a question here and there to seem normal, but the whole drive back to her mom’s house, I’m spiraling in a dangerous way.
When we pull down the street, my stomach turns with jealousy.
Shane’s car is in front of Emma’s house.
She’s moving on with another man.
She’s choosing Juliet.
I’m choosing Juliet.
