Page 130 of Fake As Puck
I head up to my room—their room, our room, whatever—and try to shake off the weird feeling that I’m doing this all wrong.
That I should have insisted on picking her up. That I should have booked us a romantic dinner tonight. That I should be treating this like we’re actually together instead of like we’re business partners with a contract.
The room is nice. Two queen beds, a sitting area, a view of the vineyards. The kind of place where couples come to reconnect and remember why they fell in love.
I drop my bag on the bed closest to the window and check my phone. No messages from Liv.
I consider texting her, but I don’t know what to say. “Hope you have a good flight”? “Can’t wait to see you”? “I’ve been thinking about you every day since I left LA and I’m not sure I can keep pretending this is just an arrangement”?
All of the above feel like too much.
None of them feel like enough.
I’m saved from my spiral by a text from my cousin Jake:Drinks in the hotel bar. You in?
Be right down.
The bar is already crowded with wedding guests, and I spot Jake immediately. He’s holding court at a high-top table, telling some story that has everyone laughing.
“West!” he shouts when he sees me. “Get over here. We’re catching up on the last decade.”
“All of it?” I ask. When I sputter those words, everyone turns their attention to me and eyes bulge out. I inhale at the attention. My height is three quarters of the reason.
Jake beams. “All of it. Starting with why you’ve been MIA for the last few years.”
I smile. “I’ve been busy.”
“Hockey doesn’t count as busy. That’s just your job.”
I shrug. “My job is busy.”
“Everyone’s job is busy. What else is going on? You dating anyone?”
“Actually, yeah. I’m bringing someone tomorrow.”
“Really? Tell us everything.”
“Her name’s Liv. She’s... she’s great.”
“That’s it? That’s all we get?” he asks, looking around the table.
“What do you want me to say?”
“Everything. How’d you meet? How long have you been together? Is she the one?”
“Is she the one?” I repeat as someone hands me a beer. I take it and thank them politely then take a sip to buy time.
See? This is why I needed a date to these weddings. If Liv was here, she’d be my buffer.
I swallow and nod. “Yeah. You know. The one you’re going to marry and have babies with and grow old with.”
“I don’t know about all that.” Jake laughs obnoxiously to the table and a few others agree.
I take another sip to avoid the feeling my chest because I do know.
I’ve known since that night in her apartment, maybe even before that.
Liv is the one I want to wake up next to every morning. The one I want to make coffee for and argue with about what to watch on Netflix. The one I want to introduce to everyone and have babies with and grow old with.
