At the beginning of dinner, when our table was snacking on bread and olive oil, I made the mistake of mentioning that there were six-thousand-year-old olive trees in Greece.
“Oh God, Laney, don’t start with that.” Derek leaned across me to roll his eyes at Ronan. “Has she put you to sleep yet with the Greek trivia? Don’t get her started, or she’ll never stop.”
Ronan soaked a piece of bread in the oil and fed it to me like that was something we did all the time. He watched me eat for a moment before finally answering Derek’s question. “In my opinion, finding someone this brilliant and articulate is winning the lottery. Laney could recite Greek trivia or review the goddamn phonebook, and I’d just be a grateful fool, listening to her voice.”
“Thatis the kind of stuff I expect in your vows tomorrow,” Megan informed Kev, who dutifully took notes on his phone.
Derek scowled, the other groomsmen guffawed, Reagan huffed, and the other two bridesmaids squealed. Ronan hadn’t moved his gaze from my mouth, and for a moment, I thought he might kiss me. For another moment, I wanted him to.
Then someone across the table commented on the weather, and the spell was broken. Until the next time. And the time after that.
By the end of the dinner, I found myself wondering why, exactly, Ronan Black didn’t have a woman in his life on which to bestow this treatment. If this was him faking it, what it was like when he loved someone for real?
Or, I thought as I recalled his throwaway mention of personality disorders, was he even capable of it?
“Please tell me you’re bringing him to the wedding,” Megan said as she pulled on her coat.
Most of the party had dispersed, and the last of us were getting ready to catch rideshares or taxis to hotels or homes.
I glanced back to where Ronan was casually lighting a cigarette on the sidewalk while he flirted with Megan’s Aunt Ruthie. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No, actually, I’m not.” Megan looked around to make sure no one was listening, then bent closer. “Friday Harbor?”
I swallowed. Our eighth class took a trip to Orcas Island, a period when every girl at Whitman Middle School seemed to be going through her mean-girl phase. Megan and I hadn’t spoken for three days until doing clean up on the beach for four hours forced us to have the first of many heart-to-hearts. Ever since, “Friday Harbor” had been our code for absolute honesty without judgment.
I sighed. “Friday Harbor.”
Megan nodded. “I like him. I don’t know what he’s doing here, but he definitely likes you too. More importantly, this is the first wedding event involving you-know-who where you haven’t looked like you’ve sucked on a lemon. So, bring your husband tomorrow if only to save my pictures, will you?”
“Megs—”
“I kid, I kid. Sort of. But really, he did make tonight better. Watching Derek make those faces every time Ronan gave you a compliment was just the cherry on top of the sundae. And… you’ve smiled more tonight than I’ve seen in a really long time.”She squeezed my hand. “I’ve missed my best friend. If she comes with him, I want him there.”
I shook my head. “It’s a bad idea.”
“And it’smyday, so you have to do what I say!” she called as she danced away toward the car that would whisk her back to her parents’ house for her final night of singledom.
“Darla is going to murder you for screwing up the seating chart.”
“Darla is getting paid the earth to figure things like this out. I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Don’t stay up too late with your hubby, girl!”
Whistles joined her as a few bridesmaids filed into the car with her. Soon, everyone else had gone too, and I was left on the sidewalk with just Ronan.
He finished his cigarette and flicked the butt onto the concrete before smashing it with his foot. “So, where to?”
I checked my watch. It was getting late. “Well, I have to be at Megan’s by ten to help her get ready, so it’s home for me. I’ll call a Lyft or something.”
“No need.”
Ronan raised his hand, and a big black SUV across the street turned on, then took a wide turn to arrive in front of us. A man the approximate size of an oak tree got out and opened the back door for us.
“Laney, Mac. Mac, Laney.” Ronan turned to me. “Or maybe your memory has come back.”
My eyes popped open. “You mean?—”
“Drove us the whole night, babe,” Ronan confirmed. “Witnessed the wedding too. But don’t worry. He’s very discreet.”
The huge man—Mac, apparently—didn’t confirm anything, just continued waiting by the door with a clearly practiced straight face.
