Page 43 of Who's Your Daddy?

The church was immaculate, and the reception is being held at the Royale Hotel, where even the most basic finger foods are served on a silver platter. The bride must have a thing for pink because soft pink lighting illuminates the slightly dim room. Pink satin is delicately draped from the middle of the ceiling to every corner. White and pink roses have been neatly set in the middle of every table surrounded by round pink scented candles. It truly is an elegant display. I take a picture of the table before I sit down.

“Another one?” Peter asks.

I give a sheepish smile. “Well, yeah. It’s a special day.”

“It’s not just today. You takea lotof pictures in general. It has nothing to do with the occasion. No matter where we go – the park, the beach – you’re just always taking pictures.”

“Sometimes...sometimes a picture is all you have left of a moment. If something good happens, or if I get to experience just a sliver of happiness, I like to have a picture to remember it.”

He shrugs it off because he doesn’t get it, and I didn’t expect him to. No one truly understands how important pictures are until they only have one left. “Yeah, but...it’s a very obsessive habit, don’t you think?”

He may not understand my reasons, but he’s right about the result. I’ve been quite obsessive today, even more so than usual, taking pictures of every tiny detail, not only to remember how exquisite everything is, but as an electronic journal of all the things I would like at my wedding one day.

Well, that’s if I ever meet a decent man who will have me. God knows I have significantly reduced my chances of that happening. From an extra-marital affair to living in sin with the world’s biggest manwhore. I’m not exactly racking up points on the marriage eligibility scale, especially after I just screwed said manwhore in a laundry room not even ten minutes ago.

And we’re not only living in sin. We’re doing...things. Together. All the time. That gated community complex he lives in (and owns) is conducive to a lot of fun-filled activities because there’s so much to do there.

Just this week we’ve gone biking and had a picnic and went for a long walk as we watched the sunset. That’s couple stuff. And then to top it all off, last night he took me to the rehearsal dinner at Dylan’s family restaurant, and we hung out withallhis friends. In all fairness, I enjoyed their company. They’re a jovial bunch, but I don’t feel right being involved in such personal parts of his life.

Then, to make matters worse, he actually kept his promise and helped me practice catching the bouquet. He bought a bunch of plastic flowers for us to toss around in his backyard. After his first throw almost took my eye out, he admitted he used to play football in high school. I told him I wasn’t aware that I was in the presence of a professional, and from that moment, I gave it my all. I mean, I brought my A-game.

I’ve never watched a game of football in my life, but I was out there yelling“blue forty-two”and“hut-hut”before every throw. He even let me wear his old football jersey during a training session because he believed in mypotential. The entire exercise was way more fun than I’d anticipated, and I’m not going to lie, there were moments when I was absolutely swooning over this guy. It’s the grin. It’s the eyes. It’s everything, his whole demeanor. He’s so...

Whatever. I’m not even going to go down that road. The bottom line is, he had my heart shooting chocolate bubbles. Thankfully, I popped every last one of them because that’s the kind of nonsense that blurs the lines I’ve been trying very hard to keep in place.

So, to summarize: on the one hand, he trained me to become an expert catcher because, in some superstitious way, it helps in my endeavor to find a husband. Couples don’t do things like that.

On the other hand, one particularly frisky tackle led to us having the hottest sex outside on the grass. It was seeing me wearing his football jersey that brought on the lust so suddenly. Apparently, seeing me in his clothes turns him on. That’s something a boyfriend would say, so that brings us right back tocouple stuff.

I don’t know what’s going on between us. It’s all so confusing. The more time I spend with him, the more uncertain the situation becomes. I wasn’t lying when I told him I was in real danger of liking him. Idolike him. I don’t want to, but it’s hard not to. He’s just a fun, carefree guy. He’s so magnetic. No matter how much I try to distance myself from him, he pulls me right back.

But I need to be on high alert. Teddy taught me some hard lessons. I know not to fall for the charms of a playboy. I know that guys who aren’t looking for commitment don’t magically wake up one morning ready to commit. For men like Teddy and Peter, one woman is never enough.

Just like Teddy, Peter will eventually grow bored. Any day now, he’s going to tell me to pack up my shit and leave, and I’m fully prepared for such a scenario. That’s why I can’t allow myself to get sucked into stupid emotions, because emotions are dangerous and can take me down a very dark path.

A resounding applause yanks me out of my inner musings, and I realize I daydreamed all the way through Scott’s best man’s speech. Cheers and whistles erupt as Scott walks back to the table. Tommy pops open a bottle of champagne, pours a glass, and hands it to me.

“Oh...no, thank you. I feel kinda queasy.” This isn’t even a lie. I feel sick to my stomach. It must be all this anxiety.

“You okay?” Peter asks.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a bout of nausea.”

Scott returns to the table and sits down. I can sense some tension between him and Catalina. Peter told me they used to date, and I guess the fact that her current boyfriend and ex-boyfriend are sitting at the same table must be awkward for her. Cat and Scott exchange glances, and I detect a silent yearning. I only pick up on it because it’s a constant feeling for me, so it’s easy to spot. I’m sensing they still have unresolved feelings for each other, which makes the presence of her boyfriend even more...awkward.

“That was a great speech, Scotty,” Tommy says, sounding almost tearful.

Tommy is the bride’s best friend, so I can understand the emotion in his voice. They’re so close she made him the maid of honor, and he deserves it. He’s been her biggest cheerleader today.

It must be nice.

To have a friend like that. Someone who knows you inside out and stands by you, regardless. My heart sinks with the heavy weight it carries. Being around Peter and his friends is not great for my mental health. All of them have such a close bond with each other. Peter complains about Dylan all the time. Scott does too, but there’s no doubt in my mind that they all have a deep love for one another. I get the same sense of connection between Tommy and Isabella.

They’re not related, but they’re family. They have that strong human connection that I miss, that I crave. I hate watching all of them together. It reinforces my loneliness, highlights every empty space in my isolated existence.

I watch the newly married couple cut their wedding cake and feed it to each other. Dylan is completely enamored by her, and she is utterly in love with him. I envy them. I want what they have. It’s the same kind of love my parents had, and I’m determined to find it for myself.

So, when Dylan’s mother announces that all the single ladies should report to the dance floor, I shove the melancholy aside and stand up. I’m ready to find happiness of my own.

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