For the Love of Friends

by Confino, Sara Goodman

  After we spent way too long making silly faces and posing for pictures, Amy bounded off to find Tyler, and Jake came to pull Madison onto the dance floor. I went back to our table, but my parents soon joined the dancers and my grandmother went to talk to her nieces and nephews at another table, leaving me alone at ours.

  I watched the dancing from my seat, leaning an elbow on the table and propping my chin in my hand. If this were a movie, I thought, Alex would come up behind me and ask me to dance. And I’d look at him in shock and ask what he was doing here, and he would tell me Amy invited him after all.

  Unable to stop myself, I glanced longingly at the door to the mansion’s ballroom. No one was coming.

  A couple of songs later, my dad approached me at the table. “Come on. It’s time to dance with your dad.”

  I rose and took his arm, and he led me out to the dance floor. “You doing any better?” he asked.

  “Just one more wedding left to go after tonight.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  I sighed. “Yeah. I’ll be okay.”

  “I know you will be. You always land on your feet. Doesn’t mean you’re okay now.”

  I thought for a minute. “I am okay, I guess.”

  “Your mother said you were a huge help getting everything ready for the wedding.”

  “It was the least I could do. I still need to make it up to everyone.”

  He fixed me with a hard look. “Just be sure you’re making time to take care of yourself too.”

  “I will, Dad.”

  He kissed my forehead. “And remember that your mother and I love you. No matter what Jake says.”

  I smiled. “It’s not too late to trade him in for a dog.”

  I was rewarded with a wink. “I’m still working on your mother.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  And then there was one.

  Alex didn’t look at me during the rehearsal. I tried to catch his eye, but when it became apparent he wasn’t going to look, I took that as a clear sign that trying to talk to him would be futile.

  Megan and Tim were both semi-practicing Catholics, so the ceremony would be held at Megan’s family’s church, with the reception following at a swanky hotel in DC that boasted a spectacular view of the National Mall. Megan’s mother didn’t quite make eye contact with me either, which I recognized as evidence she had read the blog and disapproved of my sexual proclivities while drunk. And apparently even the priest was a Buzzfeed reader, because when he explained the communion to the wedding party, he made a point of saying that only Catholics were to take the communion. “If you aren’t Catholic, or are and aren’t pure enough to take communion at this time”—he looked pointedly at me—“you will simply bow your head.”

  I considered chiming in that I wasn’t Catholic, so my religion was the issue, not my purity, but I kept my mouth shut and glowered silently at the floor instead.

  I wanted to be deliriously happy for Megan. Isn’t that how you feel on your best friend’s wedding day? But the priest’s comment at the rehearsal had knocked me for a loop. It meant everyone at the wedding—and on Megan’s side, that included people I had known for most of my life—had read the blog and knew what I had done. And even worse, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out which groomsman was creepy and which one was avoiding me like the plague, so not only had I humiliated myself, but Alex was probably suffering too.

  But for Megan, I put on my cheeriest smile and faked it. Even when I said good morning to Claire and she turned her head the other way, I didn’t let my face show what I felt.

  Megan knew though. She put a hand on my arm while the stylist curled my now semi-permanently-straightened hair around the barrel of an iron, and I looked up to see pity reflected in her eyes. “You look beautiful,” I told her.

  She leaned in close and whispered in my ear, “You can do this.”

  I nodded, not quite trusting myself to talk, and swallowed hard. “I don’t matter today.”

  “You always matter, Lil. And I’m sorry I ever made you feel otherwise.” She saw that I was struggling to maintain the cheerful front and switched gears. “You ready to get strapped into that bra?”

  “I’m burning that thing after today.”

  “How very retro.” She took my hand and squeezed it.

  Mark was the best man, so I was paired opposite him at the altar. Alex was two people behind, with Justin standing directly behind him. I couldn’t look at Alex without seeing Justin looking back at me, so I tried to focus on Megan instead, which was where I should be looking anyway. But I kept gazing back, willing him to look at me too. To offer some hope of forgiveness.

  He didn’t.

  When the ceremony was over, Mark smiled genuinely at me as he offered his arm, and I took it, reminding myself to smile for the pictures. The last thing I wanted was to look sad in Megan’s wedding album.

  We toasted the couple in the limo on the way to the hotel, posed this way and that for the photographer, and finally it was time for the reception. I refused the champagne that the waiters kept pouring though; I needed a clear head for my speech.

  The bandleader gestured to Mark and he went to the bandstand to begin his toast. I looked around, frantic; Alex hadn’t taken his seat at our table yet. I spotted him leaning against the bar as Mark began to talk. I just needed to know where he was—even if it was so I could not look at him during mine.

  I would love to say that I paid attention to Mark’s speech, but I didn’t. Instead, I ran through mine in my head. When everyone around me raised a glass, I did the same, and then it was my turn. The bandleader introduced me, and the band played a snippet of the song “Notorious” as I rose to take the microphone. I spun to give Megan a look. She threw her head back and laughed.

  I left my notecards at my seat. I had the whole thing memorized, so they would just be a distraction. Mark handed me the microphone, and the bandleader gestured to the band to cut the song.

  “Well, that was probably an appropriate introduction,” I began, veering off course. There was some laughter.

  “I’ve known Megan since we were seven years old. The day we became friends, in fact, she smacked another girl in the face with a Snoopy lunch box for telling the entire bus that I had a crush on Ricky Wilson.” More laughter.

  “Everyone needs a friend who will beat someone else in the head with a lunch box for you, and Megan has always been mine. Of course, I’m sure there are more than a couple of you here tonight who would like to hit me with a lunch box, and not out of friendship. In fact, there’s a whole second reception line after dinner so everyone I’ve wronged can take turns slapping me with a Snoopy lunch box.” Much heartier laughter. Claire caught my eye as one of the few people not laughing. She sat stone-faced, her arms crossed. If I had actually brought a lunch box, she would be racing to be first in line.

  “Learning to share Megan has been hard, but Tim has been particularly gracious about it. And I couldn’t wish for a better husband for my wife—oh sorry, did you not know about that? Megan and I have a pact that we’re going to marry each other if either of us is still single at forty, so by my calculations, you’ve got just over seven years until I take her back.” Less laughter at that one, but still a decent amount.

  “In all seriousness, though, it’s been inspiring to watch how happy you have made Megan. I’ve been with her through so much, but I’ve never seen her light up the way she does with you. And there’s no one else in the world I could share her with so freely.

  “Megan and Tim, may you always be this happy. May you share the joys of this world together always, and may your lives be as full of wonder and bliss as you both are today. I love you so much.” I raised my glass and the crowd followed as I felt tears well up in my eyes.

  “To Megan and Tim.” The room echoed my sentiment, and I returned to my seat. I glanced around the table—Alex was still at the bar, so I couldn’t gauge his reaction.

  I picked up a glass of champagne
that the waiter had filled while I was speaking. I could drink now at least—just not to the point where I did anything stupid.

  Alex slid into his seat at the table, across from me, once the salads were in place. He mostly talked to Claire’s husband, Alan, but finally, over the main course, he glanced in my direction.

  I froze. Part of me wanted to shout how I felt across the table. Part of me wanted to crawl under the table and hide.

  He held my gaze for what felt like several minutes, making noncommittal responses to Alan until he eventually looked away.

  It was something though. And enough to give me a quick sense of hope.

  Megan and Tim were invited to the dance floor by the bandleader, and we all watched from the darkened room as they did their choreographed routine in the spotlight. As they twirled around the floor, I sat there trying to work up my courage. When the bandleader invited the rest of the guests to join them on the dance floor, I saw Mark turn to me from the corner of my eye, but I got up and ran around the table to Alex.

  “Can we talk?” I asked.

  “Now?”

  “Yes. Or I’ll lose my nerve.”

  He sighed, but he pushed his chair back from the table and stood, offering me his hand. I looked at him in surprise. “It’ll look bad if we leave the room. It will be better if we dance.” I nodded and took his hand, then followed him onto the dance floor.

  We stayed near the fringe, where the music was quieter, his arm loose around my waist. He remained silent.

  “Please say something,” I said finally.

  “You were the one who wanted to talk.”

  I nodded and took a deep breath. “I miss you. So much.” He didn’t respond. “I—know what I did was awful, but—you were married before. It’s not like either of us has a clean slate.”

  He started. “You’re comparing me being divorced to you sleeping with Justin? And you think that’s why I’m mad at you?”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “Well—yes. You could have had me—at any time—and you picked him of all people?”

  “I didn’t know I could have had you. I didn’t want him. I was drunk and stupid and—” I trailed off.

  He looked at me in disbelief, but took a moment to respond. “I’m more upset you didn’t tell me. I wouldn’t have cared—well, I would have cared, but I could have gotten over it if you had told me. But you decided it was a death sentence without giving me the chance to make my own decision and then told the whole world about it instead.”

  “I—Megan told me I couldn’t—after Justin—”

  “And that was why we couldn’t be together? If Megan told you to jump off a bridge, would you do it?”

  “Probably, yes.”

  “Fine,” he said, steering me toward the center of the dance floor. “Let’s ask her.”

  “If I should jump off a bridge?” He fixed me with a withering look.

  When we reached the newlyweds, Megan had her cheek against Tim’s, but Alex got us close enough for her to hear. He called her name and she opened her eyes. “Can I date Lily?”

  “Do you want to?” she asked. Tim turned to look at us.

  “I didn’t say that. I’m just asking if you care.”

  “It’s your funeral,” she said with a shrug.

  I gave her a dirty look. She smiled wickedly and blew me a kiss, then pressed her cheek back to Tim’s.

  We made our way back to the edge of the dance floor. “See why it’s not smart to make assumptions about how other people are going to react?” he asked.

  “I’m sorry. I should have told you—I should have told you so much earlier and let you decide if you still liked me.”

  “When did it happen?”

  “What?”

  “When did you sleep with him?”

  “Why? What does it matter now?”

  “Do you want me to try to move past this?”

  With all my heart, I thought. “Yes.”

  “Then I get to know when it happened so I can decide if I can actually get past it or not. If it was the night of Amy’s party, I’m out of here.”

  “You can’t think that I—from you to him?”

  His face was still stony. “You tell me.”

  I looked into his eyes plaintively, but he wasn’t budging. “I don’t even remember it,” I confessed finally. “It was the night of Megan and Tim’s engagement party, and I had just gotten the call from my sister that she was engaged too, and I got so drunk and I—well, the next thing I remember was waking up in the hotel room next to him.”

  Alex dropped his hand from my waist and stepped back. He stared at me in disbelief. “It was before I really knew you,” I said. “But that’s why I couldn’t do that to Megan even though I wanted to—when you kissed me that night, I—I think I knew all along how I felt, but I didn’t want to admit it because I couldn’t do that after—after—”

  “This isn’t happening.”

  “I know you said you tried to keep him away from me that night, but I don’t remember. And I know it doesn’t speak well of me that I would get that drunk and do that with him—”

  “You didn’t.”

  “I—what?”

  He started to respond and then it was too much for him. He doubled over, hands on his thighs, laughing too hard to speak. When he finally caught his breath, he put an arm back around my waist, pulling me in close.

  “You didn’t sleep with Justin, you fool.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You stole my shirt.”

  “I—what? No. Justin said it was him at the housewarming.” I pulled back, not understanding.

  “Really? What did he say?”

  “He—he said I owed him—for skipping out without saying goodbye—”

  “You skipped out without saying goodbye when you came up to me and begged me to keep him away from you.”

  “But—he said I owed him for the shirt.”

  “You spilled a glass of red wine all over him.”

  “I—what?”

  “Lily, he was all over you. You were clearly drunk and I asked if you were okay. You said you were too drunk to drive home and he wouldn’t leave you alone. You really don’t remember any of this?”

  Now that he was saying it, I could picture the arm that I was leaning on at the hotel’s check-in desk as being attached to Alex. “You got us a room,” I said quietly.

  “I offered to drive you home, but you said you couldn’t leave your car. And you were wasted and not making a whole lot of sense.”

  I held a hand to my face. “Does that mean I—that we—?”

  “Is that what you think of me? No!”

  “But I woke up and my clothes were on the floor.”

  “You took them off. I looked away. Mostly. You said you couldn’t breathe in your dress and your bra was uncomfortable.”

  I tried to remember. “But you were naked too—”

  “I slept in my boxers.”

  “And we didn’t—?” He shook his head. I couldn’t make eye contact. I was mortified.

  “How did you think I was Justin?”

  “I couldn’t see his—your—face—and I told Megan I didn’t want to know who it was. And then Justin said that, and I thought—oh my God, I’m so stupid.” I thought back to Megan’s housewarming party, where Alex was so sweet on the porch. To the notes at Starbucks. The way he dropped everything to come help me at Amy’s bachelorette and then the fact that I published something so wrong when there had never been anything standing between us at all. Nothing except my own idiocy.

  “But—you read the blog. I said it happened at the engagement party in the blog.”

  He shook his head. “I read the Buzzfeed article and most recent blog post. Then I was too mad to go back and read the rest. And then by the time I was ready to, you had deleted it.”

  I stared at him. “I don’t know what to say. Alex, I’m so—” He cut off my apology with a kiss.

  “Megan-sanctioned this time,” he
said, a teasing glint in his eye.

  “Who?” I asked, a tear slipping past my lash extensions, despite the smile on my face. His hand cupped my cheek, and he brushed the tear away with his thumb. He leaned forward to kiss me again, and I wanted nothing more in the world than to hold him and never let him go. I kissed him lightly, then whispered, “But we shouldn’t do this.”

  “You’d better be kidding.” His arm was tight around my waist.

  “Here,” I laughed. “We shouldn’t do this here. At the wedding.”

  He smiled and kissed my cheek gently, and I felt a wave of desire wash over me. “I missed you too,” he said. I wrapped my arms tightly around his neck and we stayed like that for a long time, swaying slightly with the music, but mostly just hugging each other as close as we could.

  As the night began to wind down, I excused myself to go to the bathroom. Megan was in there, touching up her lipstick in the mirror. “I see everyone got a happy ending today,” she said to my reflection.

  I sat on the ottoman next to her. “How could you not tell me?”

  She shrugged. “I was sworn to secrecy, as you may recall. I figured if you two didn’t work it out tonight, I’d tell you then.”

  “But these past few weeks I—”

  She turned to face me. “I told you I wasn’t going to get over the blog overnight. And you got off pretty easily if you ask me, so I was okay with you suffering a little. I feel better now.”

  “If I didn’t love you . . .” I shook my head.

  “But you do,” she said sweetly. “You gave a whole speech about that tonight. And I love you too.”

  “So I actually have your approval?”

  She hugged me. “Be happy. You deserve it.” She let me go and turned to head back to the reception, then stopped in the doorway. “Should I throw the bouquet right to you, or would that just be awkward?”

  I laughed. “Aren’t I the only single girl here?”

  “My cousin Maggie is too.”

  “Isn’t your cousin Maggie twelve?”