This Story Might Save Your Life(34)

“Oh.” Luna pressed a hand to her chest. “I just came from—”

I gasped. “Is that…?” On her ring finger was a modest, horizontally set oval diamond in yellow gold. Simple. Perfect. “Am I seeing what I think I’m seeing?”

She dropped her hand and looked to Benny for help.

“We sent you an invite,” he said.

“No.” I shook my head. “No, you didn’t.”

“We did,” Luna said. “And you returned it.”

“I didn’t.” I was still shaking my head. “I wouldn’t.”

Luna crossed her arms and gave me a once-over. “Look, I get that things have been rough for you, but lying about it isn’t—”

“She’s not lying,” Benny said. “Xander didn’t pass along our messages.”

“I mean, we don’t know…” I spoke so quietly it was nearly lost amid the gentle rustling of shoppers. “Maybe they were … misplaced.”

I heard myself; don’t think I didn’t hear myself. But it made no sense. Why would Xander do such a thing? All those nights he let me go on and on about Benny shutting me out—how could he keep a straight face if he was the one holding us apart?

Luna raised her eyebrows at Benny, and he bit his lip with a questioning smile.

“Fine,” she said. “I think I’ve got everything I need. Why don’t you two catch up while I go … elsewhere.”

Benny kissed her on the cheek and whispered something into her ear.

“Nice to see you,” she said over her shoulder.

“You too.” I waited until she was out of sight before turning back to Benny. “El Coyote is across the street.”

Understanding brightened his face. “Flaming margaritas?”



* * *



WE WAITED UNTIL after we got our drinks to address the awkwardness.

“So…” I held up my coupe. “Congratulations.”

“Right. Thanks.”

We clinked glasses.

“When was it exactly?”

“Last year. May.”

My chest felt tight. I took a large gulp of my margarita and waited for the tequila to spread through my veins. “Here? In LA?”

“Up north. A restaurant near Santa Cruz. It was small,” he added. “Mostly her family.”

“Right. I forgot they were up there.” I nodded as my thoughts began to spiral. What had I been doing that day? Who’d stood as his best person? What song had they chosen for their first dance? And the question that hurt the most, the one I couldn’t ask: Who’d officiated? We’d promised to officiate each other’s weddings.

He must have read my mind because he said quietly, “The phone works two ways. You didn’t call me once.”

“I was upset. What you said about me not wanting the baby. And then you didn’t apologize.”

“I tried so many times.”

“I didn’t know. Xander said…” Xander said I should wait for Benny to contact me first. That people’s true colors come out when others are suffering. That Benny clearly wasn’t the stand-up guy I’d made him out to be. I cringed that I’d let those words in, but I was so lost. “You visited me in my dreams.”

Benny’s expression turned hopeful. “I did?”

“You never said anything. You usually just sat in the corner … shaking your head at me like I was some sort of disappointment.” Every time, I was so certain he was actually there. Every time, Xander would have to remind me it wasn’t real.

“You sleep-hallucinated a mean Benny? That’s terrible.”

“I really believed you were over it.” I teared up. “I was in a bad place.”

“I know you were. I know.” His eyes were moist too. “How are things now?”

I didn’t want to talk about it. The alcohol, however, had already created a disconnect between my mind and my mouth because I found myself saying, “He wants to try again.”

The rain picked up, pounding on the roof. Benny’s green eyes shifted toward the slanted twinkle-lit ceiling, then settled back on me. “How do you feel about that?”

I shrugged in an attempt to play it cool. “I have frozen eggs. It wouldn’t have to be me. I wouldn’t have to take hormones or anything.”

“Oh.” Benny looked like he was struggling to remain impartial. “When did you do that?”

“About thirteen years ago.” I wasn’t surprised the topic had never come up. I’d been so young. If I’m honest, I hadn’t even considered surrogacy until after my pregnancy. I’d done the retrieval only to appease my parents, who insisted I take precautions before testing out a new drug—just in case I was in the minority of women who suffered devastating fertility side effects. I didn’t end up staying on the drug for long, but we kept the eggs.

“So you wouldn’t have to carry.”

I knew what he was thinking: I’d never had to suffer. I could’ve avoided exceptional heartache if I’d gone that direction in the first place. He and I wouldn’t have lost three years. Or maybe he wasn’t thinking those things. Maybe it was just me. “Correct,” I said.