She lifts her fork and gently cuts into her salmon while Brian holds my hand and smiles brightly at me.
The things we do for love.
“Thank you again, Lia,” Brian says as he walks me up to my apartment. After a prolonged time at the club, we spent another two hours walking around the venue while a wedding planner showed us the spaces. As expected, Mrs. Beaver took the lead. She had her own opinion on the reception and where the cocktail hour needed to be, as well as the dinner. The dance floor would be modest, with just enough room for people to slow dance—according to her, there would be no bumping and grinding at our wedding—and then she pointed out the bride’s room where I would be making dress changes.
When I asked how many dresses she planned on me changing into, she said at least three, as if it was the most preposterous question she’s ever heard.
Three dresses? How does one person even have the bandwidth to pick three different wedding dresses? Mrs. Beaver pointed out there’s the ceremony dress, the reception dress, and then of course the parting dress—the dress I put on just to leave the building. So many useless expenses. By the time we left, it was past five, and I was rushing to get back home.
I took an Uber to the club because Brian always likes to drive me, and as I figured, he wanted to drive me today.
“Thank you for what?” I ask him as I reach my door and turn toward him.
“I know the big wedding thing isn’t what you were probably looking for, but it’s important to my mother.”
“Yeah, I could tell.” I press my lips together. Tugging on the lapel of his suit jacket, I say, “Are you sure this is all necessary? Do we really have to have such a grandiose wedding? Maybe we can elope or something?”
He snorts. “Lia, my mother would absolutely kill me. I’m her baby boy, the last one to get married out of her children. She will not allow me to elope.”
“You know, Brian,” I say in a seductive voice while moving my hand up his chest. “The great thing about being an adult is that you can make your own decisions.”
He lightly presses me against my door and smooths his hand up my thigh. “Yes, but when the decision doesn’t really bother me, I’m not going to put up a fight about it.”
“But don’t I matter?” I ask.
He cups my cheek. “Of course you matter, Lia. But I also know that wedding stuff isn’t that important to you.”
“It should be important to us both, as it’s our day.”
He brings his lips to mine and presses a few short kisses before pulling away and saying, “We have the rest of our lives to do things the way we want. This is one day, Lia. And it’s going to be beautiful, you know my mother wouldn’t have it any other way. Trust her, okay? You might feel that what she thinks is perfect.”
I sigh just as I hear the elevator ding. I glance over Brian’s shoulder just in time to see the elevator doors part and Breaker’s face come into view.
Panic rises up, and I quickly pull Brian’s attention as I whisper, “Breaker just got here. I’m telling him tonight about the engagement. Please don’t say anything.” The words fly out of my mouth so fast that I almost don’t understand them myself.
“Tonight?” he asks. “But I thought we could go into your place, and you know . . . celebrate.”
Yeah, that won’t be happening. The only time I “celebrate” with Brian in my apartment is when Breaker is out of town. The last thing I need is for my best friend to hear that through the wall we share. Also, weirdly, the only time Brian isn’t too tired to “celebrate” is when he’s at my place.
“I’m sorry, but I promised we could hang out tonight. I’ll make it up to you. I’ll bring an overnight bag Friday and spend the whole weekend with you. Okay?”
He grows stiff with irritation and releases me.
“Brian, please, don’t be mad.”
“No, I get it.” He straightens his jacket. “But you’re mine this weekend.”
“Promise,” I say as I loop my hand around the back of his neck and pull him in for a kiss. Of course I intend a peck, but Brian goes in for the kill, adding tongue, making a show of it. When he pulls away, Breaker is standing a few feet away, patiently waiting with our take-out food.
Brian turns and smiles at Breaker. “Good to see you, man. How was New York?”
“Good,” Breaker says, looking like the good guy he is, not showing an ounce of how much he dislikes Brian. He’s never said it to my face, but I can tell when Breaker enjoys being around someone and when he doesn’t. He creates this fake smile, where only the right side of his mouth tilts up. That’s the smile Brian gets all the time. “Glad to be back. I prefer the West Coast.”