The Shippers(54)

I might have lost a pea or two myself.

I’d started out the meal intending to laugh uproariously at every funny thing Finn said. But then it turned out that Finn didn’t say funny things. Instead, he seriously told me about his life as a litigator. He seriously explained how golf had become a “real passion” for him. And then he seriously described his new BMW to me like he was doing a Consumer Reports performance review, including in-depth assessments of its turbo, torque, and thrust.

I listened intently, like we were discussing world affairs.

Like nothing on earth could be more fascinating.

Like my oldest friend wasn’t eighteen inches away, making out with his own arm.

I was just visualizing my soul-sucking boredom as a pinhole leak in a pool float, and I was feeling quite deflated, when Cooper rescued me again.

He interrupted a soliloquy of Finn’s on the perils of tax law to turn all attention to me and ask, “Tell us about your amazing job, JoJo.”

Everyone stopped talking. Even Finn.

“My amazing job?” I asked, like I’d forgotten all about it.

“JoJo teaches art to middle schoolers,” Cooper said. “But that’s not the coolest part.”

I frowned at him, like What’s the coolest part?

“It’s not just any old art,” Cooper said. “It’s math art.”

“What’s math art?” Bridesmaid Two wanted to know.

I narrowed my eyes at Cooper, like he had once again forgotten how supremely uninterested most of the world was in math. But then I said, “Well, it’s mostly trying to find ways to bring mathematical principles to life using art. So the kids can see and feel how these patterns exist in the world all around us. So, like, I have them draw seashells using Fibonacci numbers, so they can see how that sequence works in nature. And I help them visualize hyperbolic geometry by showing them crochet patterns that follow the geometric formulas of nonlinear shapes. One of my favorite activities is to blow their minds by having them make M?bius strips.”

“What’s a M?bius strip?” the ever-eager Bridesmaid Two asked.

“It’s a non-orientable, non-Euclidean infinite loop,” I said.

I admit it was a bit of a flex to lose her for a second. “You make it with a strip of paper,” I explained next, “like you would if you were making a paper chain. But instead of taping the two ends directly together, you twist the strip once before connecting the ends. Doing that one thing—twisting the strip—changes it from a shape with two sides, an inside and an outside, to a shape that has only one side. If you run a pencil along it, it will draw on both sides before you ever get back to where you started.”

I wasn’t sure Bridesmaid Two was following—or Finn for that matter. But Cooper was leaning back in his chair, enjoying every sentence I uttered, like he was responsible for sparking the best conversation topic of the night.

But I’m not sure anyone but me agreed.

Before long, Bridesmaid Two had Cooper talking about London again, and Finn was sharing his thoughts on the municipal court system—but I appreciated Cooper’s attempt.

As time wore on, to be brutally honest, I did find myself absently touching the little hickey that had made all this triumphing possible. And yes—my mind kept trying to drift back to the moment it had happened.

That was Cooper’s fault. A random bridesmaid asks you about kissing and then you just volunteer to demonstrate—for hours? Set some boundaries, Cooper!

But I stayed focused on my goals.

Through it all, I kept wanting to get a minute alone with Cooper to celebrate our massive victory and thank him for his service—a moment that never came. But I took comfort in the fact that as stuck as I was with Finn … Cooper was equally stuck with Bridesmaid Two.





Eighteen


FINN WOULD TURN out to be a gear guy.

Remember how decked out he was for mini golf?

Double it for kayaking.

He brought a helmet. A helmet.

Plus a wet suit, neoprene shoes, and—rather on-theme—gloves.

I’d googled kayaking after he asked me, trying to get a sense of what I’d just signed up for, and I’d watched more than one extreme sports video of dudes kayaking down waterfalls, slamming into rocks, and basically murdering themselves.

Those guys needed helmets.

But as far as I could tell, the Escapes Cruise Line version of kayaking was just … paddling peacefully around a lagoon.

Maybe we’d see a turtle. Or something.

Anyway—my gear amounted to a swimsuit, some shorts, and a pair of water shoes I borrowed from Ashley. She’d handed them over at the door of her bridal suite that morning in a robe, looking quite, um, tousled.

“I can’t believe how hard you are crushing Operation Conquest,” she said. “It’s working!”

I nodded. “Right?”

Next, she noticed my neck. “Is that a hickey?”

“Yesterday, you thought it was Tabasco sauce.”

She covered her mouth. “Who gave it to you?”

But I shook my head. “It’s a whole saga,” I said.

She would normally know all the details already. But it’s a lot of work being a bride, and there had been no crannies of time when I could grab her and share. And it certainly wasn’t happening now, with Brody clanking around in the room behind her. I wasn’t even sure whose side he was on.