Page 20 of Why Not Forever?

Chapter 7

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Theweddingwasalot of fun, even if dancing with Vic was a sweet kind of torture, having her so close and not really beingwithher.

We’d made plans to get together after work today to go out to my place. Vic offered to drive, which works out since I rarely drive in. She texts me at 5pm exactly, letting me know she’s in the Sterling underground parking lot and doesn’t want to come up. I assume because she doesn’t want to run into Richard. I meet her down there and get into her sleek, black Mercedes.

As soon as I get comfortable on the buttery leather seat, I start to feel self-conscious. Vic comes from money. She drives a Mercedes. She owns a condo in the West End of downtown Vancouver—one of the most expensive neighbourhoods in one of the most expensive cities in the country. And I’m taking her to my old, tiny apartment way out in the sticks.

“Where are we going?” she asks.

I don’t hesitate when I answer, trying to feign indifference. “Mission.”

I feel her gaze on me, the shock. “That’s a pretty far commute,” she says after pulling out of the garage and into traffic.

I shrug. “It’s not terrible. I’m close to the train and take it in every morning. I don’t have to deal with traffic and I’m close to family.” It’s the explanation I offer to everyone when they ask why I live so far away from the office. Everyone takes me at my word, often assuming I own a huge house in the boonies, because why else would I choose to live out there?

Only because of years of concentrated effort in controlling my reactions do I manage to keep my knee from bouncing in agitation the closer we get to my home. Vic fills the silence by talking about wedding plans. She offers to take me to the new Blue Vista location, but I decline.

“I’ve seen your downtown spot, Vic,” I say. “The level of quality you guys expect is phenomenal. Though, I was thinking about it and that’s probably another way to explain why we’re getting married so quickly. You want to get married at Blue Vista, but it’s booked solid, isn’t it?”

“It is if we want a summer wedding,” she confirms.

“Except August first. So our options would be that day or two years from now and we would rather get married early. When you know, you know, right?”

She smiles. “That’s a perfect explanation. All four of us plan to get married at Blue Vista. Though Adalie and Nate aren’t engaged yet.”

“Of course that’s your plan. Your venue is possibly the hottest in the city. Why would you want to get married anywhere else?”

Her smile grows and I feel like I’ve said the right thing, even though I just told the truth. As she drives, we discuss the guest list and agree to keep it on the smaller side, not more than a hundred people, less if we can swing it. Some might think a hundred is a big wedding, but when you have Vic’s family on one side wanting to invite every business associate to show off, and my family on the other and the sheer number of them, a hundred invites adds up quick. I ask if she wants a child-free wedding or if my nieces and nephews can come and she says she assumed I would want them there and asks if Wyatt’s kids would be okay for the flower girl and ring bearer.

We discuss food choices and cake options and by the time we reach my apartment, we have most of the details planned. It’s easy since Blue Vista has a list of preferred vendors they work with.

“I’ll talk to Spencer tonight or tomorrow about this,” Vic says. “He’ll take care of everything. There might be an extra cost since some of it will be a rush, but I can take care of it.”

“So can I,” I say. “Whatever you need for the wedding, I want to pay for half.”

She meets my eyes. “Good. Because I won’t be taking money from my parents. My father may have put all this into motion, but he doesn’t get to control any of it.”

I nod.

Vic gets out of the car, and I take the moment alone to breathe deeply and compose myself before I also get out. Vic is staring up at the ugly yellow building. It’s squat and long and the deck railings are in dire need of cleaning and some new paint. The building itself could use a pressure wash.

“This is where you live?” Vic asks.

“Yes.” I unlock the front door and let her inside. “The elevator is pretty slow. I usually take the stairs.”

“Lead the way.”

We climb to the third floor in silence. Then I lead her to my apartment and open the door. Once inside, she looks around. “It’s… cozy.”

I sigh as I take my shoes off, and she removes hers as well. “Tell me what you’re really thinking, Vic.”

She glances at me, but I guess she sees that I mean it, so she shrugs. “I think it’s small, which is fine since you’re just one person and I doubt you’re here much, anyway. It’s old. I would guess the building is around fifty to seventy years old, and it looks its age. But you also keep it clean. Everything in here seems to be put away where it belongs. Your floors are clean. Your walls are clean. You have no dishwasher, but the only dishes I can see in your kitchen are clean ones in your drying rack. It may be old, but you take care of it.”

I’m glad she can see that. She’s right. The buildingisat least fifty years old. And the apartment is tiny. But I’m strict about keeping it clean and fixing anything as soon as it breaks. Or contacting building maintenance to do it if it’s something beyond my abilities.

“What I don’t understand,” she continues, “is why you live here. I know how much my dad pays his employees, and you’re at the top. You must be making six figures a year.”

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