My stomach twists, but I smile through it. “Should I be nervous?”
“Why would you be nervous?”
“Because you said you wanted to ask me something, and questions are scary.”
“This isn’t a scary one, I promise.” Mikey pops into video, smiling. He’s at his desk now, with his phone propped up, camera angled up from below. All chin, forever adorably bad at FaceTime. “So my parents finally talked Robbie and Amanda into a wedding,” he says.
“Oh! Wow—”
“Really tiny. Just dancing and cake in their backyard. But I get to bring a plus-one, so . . .” He smiles shyly. “Save the date for July eleventh?”
I pause. “Of this year?”
“I know, it’s ridiculously soon. But apparently they’ve got our pastor lined up, and I think they’ve booked a tent already, too.”
“Mikey, I can’t,” I say quietly. “I’m so sorry. The play opens that weekend. I have to be at work.”
His brow furrows. “You don’t think anyone could cover for you?”
“On opening weekend?”
“You’re the assistant’s intern.”
My cheeks go warm. “Yeah, I get that you’re disappointed, but please don’t shit all over my job.”
“That’s not—” He shuts his eyes for a moment. “Arthur. I’m sorry. That came out wrong. I just miss you, you know?” His cheeks are flushed. “And it’s not just the wedding. I guess . . . I feel like I’m the one putting in all the effort lately.”
My stomach goes taut. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. Just the day-to-day stuff, and FaceTime—”
“We talk every day!”
“Yeah,” he says softly. “Because I call you every day.”
I stop short. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—”
“And it’s like, you’re so good at the big moments. Like New Year’s. The theater tickets. But I feel like we get a little lost in between those things.”
“Well,” I say, “maybe I want more big moments from you.”
“Like when I told you I loved you?” says Mikey.
All the air leaves my lungs.
“Sorry.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t pressure you.”
“No, you’re right.” I take a deep breath. “I’m so sorry. You’ve been so patient. I want to say it back to you. I’m just not—I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I keep getting in my head about it, and I end up thinking in circles.”
Mikey nods quickly without meeting my eyes. We’re both silent for a minute.
When I finally speak, my voice cracks. “I shouldn’t have come to New York.”
“Arthur, no! It’s your dream job. I shouldn’t have said anything.” His voice shakes, and it makes my whole chest clench.
“Mikey.”
“I’m gonna go.” He tries to smile, but it doesn’t quite hold.
“Mikey Mouse. Hey. Can we talk about this?”
“Tomorrow. I’m sorry. I’m not mad, okay?” he says. “I miss you.”
Then he ends the call before I have a chance to say it back.
At work the next day, Taj ambushes me before I even put my bag down. “Ready for some fuckery? You’re not going to believe this.” He throws up jazz hands. “The theater double-booked us for the weekend of the tenth.”
My mouth falls open. “Are you serious? Opening weekend?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Is that, like . . . a normal thing that happens?”
He lets out a choked laugh. “It’s so far from normal. Marketing’s already started. The posters. I’m losing my goddamn mind,” he says, reaching for his bullet journal. Then he spends the next few minutes outlining the entire revamped production schedule that I forget on the spot, because it seems my brain only has room for two dates.
July 17th, our new opening night. And July 11th, the wedding.
When Mikey said to save the date, I guess the universe listened.
Taj leaves to find Jacob, but I barely register his absence. I’m too wrapped up in what should be the simplest equation of all time: Mikey plus one.
I settle in at my table, chin in my hands, waiting to feel over the moon about this.
It’s a good thing, no question. I like Robbie and Amanda, I like cake, I like dancing. I definitely like making Mikey happy. And who knows—maybe seeing Mikey in a suit will make it all click into place. We’ll kiss under the stars and hold hands under the table, and I’ll finally know for sure that I’m completely in love. That I’ve been in love all along.