The crowd quieted, and I took a deep breath and then exhaled it slowly, just like the meditation app on my phone instructed me to do. Then I raised my glass.
“I’m so honored to be a part of tonight’s celebration, and to offer a toast to the future brides,” I said into the microphone. I took another slow, deep breath, then a sip of scotch. I felt a little better.
“I’m Perrine’s cousin Hayes, though she’s always felt more like a sister to me. Growing up together meant that I got used to having her around, and honestly, I took Perrine and all her amazing qualities for granted. You know, like her sarcastic sense of humor, how she always offers to drive you to the airport, and how she somehow manages to burn every single bag of popcorn she puts in the microwave.”
This got a laugh from the crowd, and I smiled, shifting a bit. I was finding a groove, and it was starting to feel good. As I talked, I scanned the crowd for Franny’s face, but I came up empty.
“But the one thing I’ve never taken for granted is her ability to love. She is kind, and generous, and she gives all of herself to the people she loves. And nowhere is that more evident than when she’s with Lola.”
There was a collective “ahh” from the crowd, and then the room was tinkling again with the sound of people tapping their glasses with silverware. The brides-to-be kissed again, and everyone responded with applause. I raised my glass toward them, and the crowd followed along. If we stopped to do this every few seconds, we’d all be drunk by the end of my toast. I pushed on.
“And, Lola, it’s been so fun getting to know you not just as Perrine’s fiancée, but as a friend as well.”
Lola stuck out her bottom lip and pressed a hand to her heart, mouthing “Thank you” at me.
“There’s a line in the movie Moonstruck”—I paused, nervous about this part of my speech—“which a very smart person once told me is ‘the greatest New York love story of all time.’”
I searched again for Franny in the crowd as I talked, but I couldn’t find her anywhere.
“Nicolas Cage’s character says, ‘Love doesn’t make things nice—it ruins everything. It breaks your heart. It makes things a mess. We aren’t here to make things perfect. The snowflakes are perfect. The stars are perfect. Not us.’ Well, you, Perrine and Lola, are as close to perfect as one couple could get. So let’s all raise a glass to love, as messy and imperfect as it can be.”
And in that moment, as everyone around us was raising glasses and cheering, I spotted Franny, off in the back. Her eyes found mine, and I held her gaze, tried to transport everything I felt for her across the room with that one look. God, she was so beautiful.
I blinked and looked away, stepping back and bumping into Lola.
“Nice job, future cousin-in-law.” She leaned in for a hug. “You almost made me cry. Almost.”
“I’m going to assume that’s a compliment,” I teased.
She nodded and gave me an affectionate poke in the shoulder before turning back toward Perrine, which meant I could keep trying to make eye contact with Franny. I looked toward where she’d been standing, but she was gone. I panic-scanned the room and saw her hugging Cleo before walking toward the door. Crap.
I wove my way through the cluster of guests, smiling and nodding at people as I tried not to spill on anyone while also moving as fast as I could in a dimly lit restaurant. By the time I made it past the host’s desk up front, Franny was long gone, and I braced myself for the disappointment to come. I pushed the glass door open and stepped out onto the sidewalk.
And there, under the streetlight, she stood, facing away from me, bouncing on her toes. I took a few steps closer, and I could hear her talking. For a second, I thought she might be on her phone, but then I realized she seemed to be talking to herself.
“Franny?” I said tentatively, still unsure of what she was doing.
She whipped around, her mouth wide-open. “Oh my god,” she said when she saw me, and her face looked slightly horrified. “Did you just hear what I was saying?”
“No,” I said, and seeing her again this close made it hard for my brain to form actual words. “Hi.”
“Hi.” She exhaled, and then said in a wobbly voice, “I’m just going to go for it.”
Her hands were clenched at her sides in fists, and she looked me directly in the eye.
“I’m sorry,” she said, with a tilt of her chin. “I’m so sorry. What you did for me when my mom had her heart attack—taking me to the hospital to be with her when you had so much going on—it was so nice of you, and instead of saying thank you, I lashed out at you and said a lot of things I didn’t mean.”