The last thing I want to remember right now is how well I thought we’d clicked. As if it was a sign or something sappy like that. Sometimes, a TV show is just a TV show. I mean, Charles Manson might have been a fan, too! If there ever was a person who could have used a time machine . . . One quick hop into the future and younger me would have been so much wiser.
No chance of that at the moment, so I keep my cool with a careless wave of my hand. “Interplanetary adventuring could have some appeal. I’ve never been much of a beach bunny.”
“No,” Will agrees. For a second the look he gives me is almost speculative, unguarded enough that I’ve started to relax when he adds, “When you do take off on your interplanetary journeying, make sure you have the right company. You wouldn’t want to end up with a flat and no one to rescue you on the other side of the galaxy.”
He gives me a wink, and my hands clench even as the rest of my body flushes hotter. I suspect some very unwise words might have come out of my mouth, but just then the elevator dings, and half of Brooke’s extended family floods into the lobby.
“Ruby!” Maggie calls with a wave. “Time to kick off wedding week with a fancy dinner.”
“Count me in,” I say, turning my back on Will. I’d feel happier heading over to join the crowd if I didn’t know he was coming right behind me.
Chapter Four
As we stream into the restaurant reserved for the first night’s dinner, Will steps up to play host. He ushers people here and there between the tables set up in groups of eight, all warm but efficient congeniality. Obviously that side of him hasn’t changed. With the meetings we had to set up under Professor Maldew, he was strategic all the way down to the seating. “Working with you is like doing business with Sun Tzu,” I joked more than once. He was the planner and I was more of a . . . winging-it-er.
It was a good pairing while it lasted.
Tonight’s plan has the married couple sitting with the wedding party, so I’m at one end with Maggie across from me and her younger sister Lulu—who, true to form, is wearing a dress that covers less skin than some bikinis I’ve owned, but whatever, we were all twenty-two once—beside me, the happy couple in the middle, and Will at the exact opposite end, where there’s no chance of him even attempting to talk to me. Excellent. Filling out the table is groomsman Colin from Trevor’s cycling group, and best man Brad, who hits three other Bs of his type: buff, blond, and buzz cut.
Will makes a remark I can tell is sly from the curve of his lips, and Brad cracks up. A prickle runs down my spine. The two of them were frat brothers and at least casual buddies back in college. But I’ve crossed paths with Brad at a few of Trevor and Brooke’s dos, and he’s never shown any indication he remembers my humiliation back then. I don’t think the guy has the guile to pretend he’s forgotten. He’s kind of a meathead, more interested in building muscle than brain, but I’ve never seen him be cruel.
It’s not a big crowd overall because of the travel involved. I glance over at the other tables: Brooke and Trevor’s parents, grandparents, assorted extended family, a couple of Brooke’s college friends, a woman she works with at the art gallery, additional cycling buddies, and one of the guys Trevor often has gigs with when he’s working as a session musician.
“You’re kidding me!” Brad says. My eyes jerk back to my own table.
“I wouldn’t lie about a thing like that.” Will grins broadly. He looks . . . different, in a weird way it takes me a moment to place. He’s relaxed, like he hasn’t been any of the times he’s been talking with me since our collision at the airport. Like he used to be.
No. I will not accept another stupid pang in my chest. However he acted when we were friends was a fraud. I know that.
Okay, okay, maybe it’s reasonable to be sad over losing the guy I thought I knew but really didn’t. But only briefly, please.
Will glances down the table at that second, of course, and our gazes catch. Yikes. I grab my wine glass and turn to Maggie. “So, how’s business going in the cupcake world?”
“Sweet!” she says, and smirks at her pun. “Really, it’s been good. I can’t believe the bakery opens in just one month.”
“That’s awesome.” Maggie is a master-baker—if you like your cupcakes boozy and shaped like penises. Who doesn’t? She’s been operating out of food trucks and tiny windows around Brooklyn for years, and is finally opening her own bakery. “Let me know when the big day is, and I’ll have my clients tweet about it.”
She grins. “Thanks. I can’t believe it. It’s been my dream for so long, and it’s actually happening now.”
“You’re going to rock it,” I reassure her.
Brooke and Trevor stand up, and the chatter around the room drops off. Trevor runs a hand through his dark floppy hair, looking as if he feels a little awkward in the formal shirt and slacks, but he glances at Brooke before he addresses the crowd, and then he’s only beaming. He and I don’t have a ton in common, but I give him full points for his adoration of my bestie.
“The food will be coming soon, don’t worry,” he says. “First off, we wanted to thank everyone for coming all the way out here to celebrate our impending marriage.”
“The trip is kind of a reflection of how the two of us ended up getting together,” Brooke says. “Although I’ll be the first to admit that when I tagged along with Ruby to her alumnae party, I had no idea I was going to meet the man of my dreams.”
“Of course, I’ve always been grateful that Brooke moved to me rather than the other way around, because I hear the surfing isn’t so great up in Philly,” Trevor puts in, to several chuckles from his audience. “I’ve got to give extra thanks to her family for being willing to let her go. I know how much you must have missed her, because she’s been a gift to me every day I’ve lived with her.”
Brooke’s cheeks turn pink, and I feel myself going misty.
“Save some of this for the wedding!” someone hollers out, and Trevor laughs.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got lots more.”
“Anyway, we hope you get a great vacation out of this too,” Brooke says. “Try all the facilities, have fun—that’s what we want to see.”
“Toast!” her aunt yells. We all raise our glasses. As I clink mine with everyone’s in reach, a stream of waiters appears with platters of appetizers.
The shrimp canapé all but melts in my mouth. I close my eyes for a second to savor. Then Lulu is knocking me with her knob of an elbow.
“So did you know when you set them up that Trevor was going to be The One?” she asks, her head cocked, bird-like. Other than their coloring, she and Maggie couldn’t look more different. Lulu is thin as a rake and she’s always got her hair pulled up in configurations it gives me a headache to contemplate.
Everyone looks at me to hear the answer. I laugh. “Not exactly. I was more relieved she had someone to talk to, while I was busy networking for clients.” I tip my wine glass to her.