Page 21 of Bridesmaid to Bride

After a beat he says, “You can’t laugh.”

“No promises.”

“Fine, laugh. I’m tough.” He hesitates, tapping his fingers together. “When I was of an undisclosed age, I wrote a quantum time travel Avengers fanfiction piece.”

I gasp. “West, that’s not funny—that’s awesome. And I can’t believe you’ve never told me before. What was it about?”

“It was a story about how science fiction never gets quantum time travel right.”

Now I chuckle. “And what does science fiction always get wrong? Other than the fact that time travel’s not possible?”

He puts a finger up. “Assuming it’s possible, and we just don’t know how to do it yet. Which is more likely than not given so many parallel universes.” His eyes brighten like they always do when he talks about this stuff. “Okay, ready?”

“I’m so ready.”

“Quantum time travel assumes that the moment someone goes back in time, they split into a parallel universe, which causes an alternate future. That part is fine, but there’s a critical component they overlook.” He hesitates, looking at me to continue.

My smile is bright. “I’m following. And deathly curious.”

“So let’s take an example: a time-traveler, we’ll call him Bob, goes back to the day his parents met. Let’s say he delays their meeting, maybe by only five minutes. But that delay causes one party to be irritated at the other for being late, and now, either they never end up dating, or their dating timeline is delayed—even if only by a few days. If they don’t date, Bob ceases to exist, and most shows get that right. But let’s say Bob just delayed their wedding. At that point, shows will assume Bob still exists, but in fact, he most likely doesn’t. That’s because the time when his parents would’ve conceived him would be almost certainly different, and in that scenario, he would’ve been created with a different egg and different sperm. Or not created at all if either was faulty.” West throws his hands in the air. “Even if his parents procreated at precisely the same time as they did in the original universe, he’d still most likely be a sibling of himself because there are a hundred million sperm ejaculated at a time. That’s only a minuscule one in a hundred million chance it’d be the exact same sperm in a parallel universe. And, again, if that sperm is faulty, Bob ceases to exist.”

I cluck, fascinated. “So if someone time travels, they basically won’t be the same person as before because the odds are too small.”

“Exactly!” West cries out. “No one would time travel because they’d almost surely either be their own brother or sister or cease to exist.”

“Oh my God—you’re right! I’ve never seen that addressed or even thought about it. But it creates a massive time travel issue.” I wave a hand. “Well, besides the one where it’s not possible.”

“Right. So my piece of fan fiction addressed it. When my character returns to his original time, he’s actually his biological brother who never existed in the original universe.”

I bark out a laugh, and he scowls at me. I put up a palm. “I’m not laughing at you, West. I’m laughing because that’s so ridiculously brilliant. And just so you.”

“So me?”

“Yes.” I feel so light, like all my problems have dissolved. West’s brain and his thoughts do that to me. I meet his gaze, my entire body warm. My voice is soft when I say, “You know, sometimes I forget just how smart you are. And then, we have moments like this and it makes me ache for the way we were. I realize this is a one-of-a-kind conversation that I’ll never have with anyone else.”

His chestnut eyes shine, showing the flecks of gold in them. “And do you know what?” His voice is low. “No one else appreciates my random observations like you do. Or even gets them most of the time. They’d just tease me about being obsessed with sperm. Or say I’m boring.”

“West Quinn, you’re a lot of things. But boring isn’t one of them.” Electric warmth spreads through me, and I realize I need to stop this because I’m feeling too much again. So I steel myself and say, “You’re going to make an amazing Groomsman to Groom star.”

Something flashes on his face. It almost looks like disappointment, but then it’s gone. “You think?”

“Of course.” I stop walking and face him. “You’re amazing.”

11

Kiss Rehearsal

WEST

The sun’s barely up and I’m already playing dress-up as part of my best man duties. I’m standing in as Zach, with Eva slipping into Paige’s shoes—or really, a designer imposter version of her wedding gown. Tyson and other camera operators buzz around us like caffeinated bees, their lenses scrutinizing every possible angle of the mock ceremony. It’s all about the perfect shot—apparently, even rehearsals in the reality TV biz are Oscar-worthy.

“Think they’ll make us do the ‘I dos’?” Eva whispers.

“Wouldn’t put it past them.” I keep my voice low. “But hey, if I’m gonna fake-marry anyone this morning, I’m glad it’s you.”

“Flatterer,” she says, but I can tell she’s eating it up.

“Places, everyone!” calls out Darren, the show’s director, who’s clearly fueled by ambition and espresso. We shuffle into position, the sand cool beneath our feet, the ocean our soundtrack.

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