by R. R. Banks
"I'm sorry," she said. "I shouldn't have said that."
"No, you’re right. We haven’t been talking nearly as much as we should lately, and I haven't visited in too long. I shouldn’t expect your wedding to be the exact same as the one we planned when we were little girls, or for you to talk about the details with me and not your fiancé. I just miss you."
"I miss you, too. I miss you every day. There's no one else in the entire world I would want to be my maid of honor. Nothing has changed about that. Besides, there's still plenty of details about the wedding that are left to be planned. Bryce might have picked a charming resort, but he doesn't know anything about flowers or napkin rings or favors or any of those things. Will you still help me?"
"Of course, I will." I gathered her into a tight hug. "What kind of friend would I be if I let you get married without the right napkin rings? "
Any wedding worth its rice has at least one argument (hello, Bridezillas?) and that was a good one. I hoped that our tiny fight over the wedding dress and venue would be the first and last instance of wedding-related drama, but I should have known better. There was something that neither Thea or I ever brought up during her trip to the city. It was an issue that loomed over both of us even though I tried my hardest not to think about it. We danced around it the entire time she was there. We skirted around it when we had lunch and talked about the plans she and her fiancé had already made. Later that night, while sitting in our pajamas at my apartment, eating popcorn and talking about the guest list, we both pretended the problem simply didn't exist. The next day, we tried our best to completely ignore it when we discussed the plans for the reception and wedding party. We were in so much denial we could have modeled as the poster children for my Egyptian fundraiser. Unfortunately, the façade was over six months later when I opened my mailbox and pulled out a slim package from Thea.
I waited until I was inside to open it. I laid the package down on the middle of my coffee table, sat on the couch, and stared at it. I grabbed a handful of the M&M's I kept in a bowl on the table and popped several into my mouth. So, what if they were left over from Halloween? This was a chocolate emergency. My eyes didn't leave the package as I chewed and swallowed the candy. Finally, I opened it. Under the white paper it was covered in, the box was wrapped in light purple tulle. I pulled on the matching bow tied around it and unwrapped the box. Inside were several sheets of premium cardstock, printed in the same purple and navy ink as her invitation. Thea was truly going all out with her wedding colors.
I picked up the first sheet and saw that it was an enlarged version of the invitation she and Bryce had already sent out to their guests. I put it aside and picked up the next paper. This one was a description of the resort Bryce had chosen. Nestled in a sleepy beach town on the Massachusetts coast, the resort featured a historic bed and breakfast as well as a collection of tiny cottages. It wasn't until I was on the third sheet that I needed a refill of my M&M's. I stared at it for several long moments before picking up my phone. As if my thoughts had reached my best friend over the miles, my phone rang in my hand, and I saw it was Thea. She started talking before I could even say hello.
"Did you get it yet?" she asked. "I mean, I know you did. I asked for delivery confirmation. But have you opened it yet?"
"I'm looking at it right now," I said. "But this itinerary has events scheduled a full week before the wedding," I said.
"I know," she said. "You and I talked about all of the pre-wedding events I wanted to do and all the fun activities that are available at the resort. I thought it would be perfect for the family and the wedding party to come up a few days before the guests so we could enjoy some extra time together. I mean, you didn't expect to just show up on the day of the ceremony, did you?"
"No," I replied. "I figured that we would have a few days together at home before we headed to the resort."
"It'll be so much more fun this way," she said. "It'll be much more relaxing, and you will love the resort."
"I know," I said. "You've told me. Several times."
"Because I know you will. It's going to be wonderful. Trust me. I'm so excited. I can't wait to spend time with all of you."
That's what did it. Of everything we had talked about and all the planning we had done, something about that one sentence was enough to make it all really crash down on me. This wasn't just us playing dress up in the boutique or giggling over choices of songs for her first dance. There was an actual wedding coming. A wedding that had gone from a sweet celebration at our hometown chapel to a destination event that involved a whole week at a resort. That meant an entire week facing friends and family I had left behind, including the tricky little issue that Thea and I had so carefully avoided talking about… the ex-boyfriend who had shattered my heart.
And who happened to be my best friend's big brother.
Not only was I going to have to see them again, but I was going to do it all in the glory of my singlehood.
Fantastic.
"What does your dress look like?"
I snapped the top onto the travel container of dressing I had just poured onto my salad before setting it aside.
"It doesn't matter what my dress looks like. It could be the most flattering bridesmaid dress that has ever existed, and it's not going to save me from this."
"Why not?"
Terri bit down into her turkey sandwich, her eyes never leaving me. She was obviously riveted by my torment.
"Right before I moved here, I thought I was going to get engaged at any moment. I had even started planning my wedding. Here's a protip. Don't start planning your wedding until you know that the man you want to marry is actually preparing to propose to you."
"Words to live by," Terri said.
"Don't I know it. The night I was absolutely positive he was going to propose turned out to be the night he wanted to let me down gently. And by letting me down gently, I mean he decided to set up a picnic at the spot where we had our first date…"
"Aww…"
"...For another woman."
"Oh."
"Yeah. The caterer he had ordered the food from – because he's too lazy to put together a picnic himself, but that's a whole other issue – accidentally told my mother about Brad’s plan. So, of course, she told me, and of course, I got even more excited and thought I would add in a little surprise of my own. I bought the most expensive bottle of his favorite bourbon and baked tiny little wedding cakes for us to eat."
"Oh, my lord."
"So now you see where I'm going with this. Nice to have you aboard. So, I snuck up to our spot, figuring that if he was planning a picnic, this was the only place he would go. He had already asked me to see him that night, so I thought I would have enough time to slip up there, hide the goodies, and then get back to my house in time to get ready before he came to pick me up. When I got up there, though…"
"He was getting some goodies already."
"That's one way to put it. Right there in our special spot with the head cheerleader from our high school."
"The head cheerleader?"
"I wasn't popular in school. It lingered."
Terri tried not to laugh.
"So, what about seeing you that night?"
"Oh, he was still planning on that, too."
"He was double-dipping?"
"Bad form in both parties and life."
"That’s a pretty nasty breakup, I'm sure, but that was a couple years ago. What does it have to do with Thea's wedding? You said it was a destination wedding. Would he even be invited?"
"He's her brother."
"I'll write you a note saying you're not allowed to leave the city for six months."
I laughed.
"Thank you, but I don't think that will work. I have to go."
"You're right. Not going would only look worse."
"That leaves me with only one option."
"What's that?"
"I'm going to have to find a gorgeous, charming boyfriend who will impress
all my hometown friends and family for an entire week of wedding festivities."
"The wedding is in three weeks. I don't think that's enough time to find someone and get all the way to the boyfriend stage by then."
"Ok. Next best thing. I need to find an incredible date to pretend to be my gorgeous, charming boyfriend that will impress all my friends and family for an entire week of wedding festivities. No strings attached." I sighed. "Where am I going to find one of those?"
"My house."
I looked at Terri quizzically.
"Your house? I appreciate the offer, but I don't think I can justify borrowing your husband for a whole week. I’m not sure that he has exactly the impressive effect that I'm going for. No offense."
"I'm going to ignore that slight on my dear, balding Barry because I wasn't talking about him. I was talking about my brother."
"You have a brother?"
"Yes, and it just so happens he's staying with us for a few months while his house is being built. I think he would be perfect. The age is right, he's attractive, and I think the two of you would actually hit it off pretty well. You might even have fun. Besides, you apparently have a thing for brothers."
"I hate you."
"You always do."
"Show me a picture of your brother."
Terri scrolled on her phone for a few seconds before turning it around, so I could view the screen. I looked at the smiling man standing shirtless in a swimming pool and recognized him from the family reunion vacation pictures Terri had shown me earlier in the summer.
"Set it up."
I took a rather violent bite of my salad, but I was starting to feel better about the whole situation. At least this way I could go to the wedding knowing I wasn't going to be humiliated. I just have to get through the wedding week and then I will be back to my normal, boring life.
Chapter Two
Luca
Greg narrowed his eyes and stuck the tip of his tongue out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrated hard on the task in front of him. He moved his hand back and forth a few times in practice before finally releasing the dart toward the board. I tried not to choke on the beer I was drinking as he let out a stream of creative obscenities and stomped back to the table.
"I swear to god that board is rigged," he said.
"With some sort of magnetic diversionary system to make it impossible for you to win at darts?" I asked.
"I wouldn't put it past them," he said, dropping down into the chair across the table from me and reaching for his own beer. "People get frustrated when they lose over and over again. Frustrated people drink."
"And drunk frustrated people do things that end up inspiring public service announcements," I said.
I stood up and took another swig of my beer – the one only I would allow myself for the evening. Setting the mug back on the table, I picked up one of the darts and headed over to where Greg had been standing. I took aim and released the dart. Greg's explosion of exasperation made me laugh as I walked back to the table. He stalked over to the board, which was now surrounded by the scattered darts he had managed to throw into the wall rather than the board and yanked my dart out of the center of the bullseye.
"I'm going to call you fucking Robin Hood from now on."
"Nah," I said. "Not until I get one dart stuck in the middle of the other."
Greg pulled a few more darts out and walked back to the throwing point. He launched them, throwing up his arms in victory when one stuck on the very edge of the board. I applauded slowly as he came back to the table and sat down. He was grinning much wider than the situation warranted but I decided to let him have his moment. After all, this was a man whose personal triumph was barely managing to land one dart on the dartboard. He sipped his beer and crunched his way through a few of the nachos that sat in the middle of the table. He then made it sound as if he had remembered something he wanted to tell me.
"Speaking of public service," he said, "my sister asked me for what might be the most ridiculous favor I have ever heard in my life."
"What was that?" I asked.
I didn't know Greg's sister Terri, but I had heard enough about her to know the two of them had always been close. They had to be. I was an only child, but I couldn't really imagine that many adult siblings were willing to move back in together for several months at a time. Especially when one of them was married.
"Apparently she has a friend at work who is maid of honor in her best friend's wedding and needs a date."
"And she volunteered you to do it?"
"Yep," he said.
"That doesn't really sound like that ridiculous of a favor," I said. "Don't a lot of people get hooked up on blind dates for weddings?"
"Not for a week," he said.
"A week?" I asked. "The wedding is a week long?"
"Apparently it is a destination wedding at some tiny little beach resort in the middle of nowhere, and the bride has planned a ton of pre-wedding parties and activities and stuff."
"Not really the middle."
"What do you mean?"
"You said that it's a beach resort. So, it's not really in the middle of nowhere. Kind of on the edge."
Greg stared at me blankly.
"Yes, Luca. The edge of nowhere. Because that doesn't sound like a terrible emo band at all." I shrugged, and he continued. "Anyway. So, this girl is having a destination wedding at some little beach resort and has planned a whole week of activities, so Terri thought that I would be the perfect date for the maid of honor."
"Why does she need a date so badly?" I asked.
"I'm not sure," Greg said. "She didn't really get into it. She just told me that Roxie really needed a date and is running out of time and she thinks I would be the perfect candidate."
"Roxie?" I asked. "That's a pretty sexy name."
"She's pretty cute, too," Greg said.
"You've met her?" I asked.
"No, Terri sent me a picture of her. I think it might have been an attempt at a luring tactic."
"Let me see."
Greg pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened a message from his sister. He handed the phone to me and I looked at a picture of a curvy blonde woman sitting in an office. It seemed to have been taken from a distance through the glass front wall of the office, and she wasn't looking at the camera at all. It looked like a clandestine snap taken by Terri to show off the goods she was trying to peddle to her brother. Despite the unflattering angle and lack of engagement from the subject, I could tell that Roxie was a sexy woman. This entire situation was unlike anything I’d experienced before. I couldn't put my finger on it, but I kind of liked what I was seeing. I handed the phone back to Greg.
"Are you going to do it?" I asked.
" I don't think so," he said. "I mean, I definitely thought about it, but I don't know."
"Seriously?" I asked with a laugh. "You actually thought about it?"
"What's so funny about that?" he asked.
"You seriously considered going on a week-long blind date with a total stranger to a destination resort wedding where you won’t be able to escape? It is definitely a ridiculous favor for your sister to ask, but it's even more ridiculous you thought it was a good idea."
"The girl needs a date," Greg said. "And you know how girls act at weddings. Besides, you saw her. Who wouldn't want to share a little cabin with her for a week? But at the same time, there are only a few things I can think of that would be more awkward than pretending to be the boyfriend of a total stranger... at a wedding... for her best friend... with her entire family... for an entire week. I don't think I can do it."
I took the last sip of my beer, licked the foam off my lips, and set my glass down emphatically. I looked around the room until my eyes fell on a woman sitting at the corner of the bar by herself. Her hair was immaculately styled, her spiked heels were almost longer than her dress, and she wore enough makeup on her face for several nights out all at once. I gestured t
oward her.
"I'll make a bet with you," I said. "Go on over there and talk to that woman. If you can get her to come over here with you and beat her at darts, I'll go with Roxie to the wedding. If you can't, you have to go."
"I don't really think that's a fair bet," he said. "I've only managed to get one dart on the board all night."
"And all you have to do is get one dart on the board again and make sure that she doesn't. I mean, honestly, does she look like someone who spends a whole lot of time practicing darts? The biggest challenge you're facing right now is getting her to talk to you, much less getting her over here."
Just as expected, Greg immediately looked defensive. He stood and squared his shoulders and marched directly over to the bar. I chuckled as I watched him lean against the corner and try to engage the compelling-looking woman in conversation. For a few seconds, she completely ignored him, as if she didn't even realize he was standing there. To be fair, she was so accustomed to men drifting into her gravitational pull that it was very likely she didn't even notice that Greg was sitting there. Finally, though, she looked up at him and they exchanged a few words. Her face contorted slightly, and I knew he must have made one of his signature terrible jokes he thought was a witty pickup line. He gestured over his shoulder and she looked at me. I waved and saw her eyes light up. She nodded and offered a hand tipped with deadly-looking red nails, so Greg could help her down from the barstool. She did it with tremendous grace, seamlessly managing a maneuver that would leave most women with their unmentionables not only exposed but blasted all over social media within twelve seconds of their descent.
They made their way over to the table and I made sure to make eye contact with her. She didn't say anything but took her place at the line. She picked up a dart and tossed it toward the board. Just as I expected it would, the dart missed the board by several inches and pierced through an advertisement for the bars upcoming open mic night. She gave a pouting face and stepped aside for Greg to take his turn. I withheld my laughter by eating room temperature nachos as they went back and forth in what might have been the most dismal game of darts ever played. I wasn't entirely sure which one of them was losing, but then the woman picked up a dart and tossed it. It ended up on the very edge of the board and Greg got a determined look on his face. He picked up the last dart. She tapped her cheek with one fingertip and turned it toward Greg for a kiss. He gave me a smug look and then compiled. His lips had no more left her cheek when she grabbed his hand and directed it to throw the dart directly into the bullseye. It very well might have gone into the exact same hole left by my dart from earlier.
