If she wants there to be games, two can play,he thinks. Then he feels even more depressed, because in his head, that sounds a lot like something Elgar would say. And he doesn’t want to sound like Elgar. Ever.
He knows he has to let go a little in order to ultimately keep hold.
But that’s hard. So hard.
He’s not sure he can pull it off.
That night, he’s awakened by more barking. It’s anyone’s guess whether it’s a real dog outside or just too many thoughts demanding to be heard.
THE EIGHTH WEDDING
“Are we monogamous?”
This question had come from V about seven months into the relationship. They had woken up amorous, coupled, and were luxuriating in the lazy sunrise afterglow.
J had known this question would come up, but was still surprised that it arrived so abruptly, and at this particular moment.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Are we?”
He hadn’t been with anyone else for months, and V hadn’t told him about extracurricular exploits. So his big, immediate concern was whether the question was theoretical or logistical.
V didn’t show her cards. Instead, she cuddled into him and said, “I’m curious what you think.”
“I love being with you, and I’m happy being only with you.”
V kissed him then, for long enough that J had time to wonder what lay at the other side of it.
When V pulled back, she was smiling.
“Good,” she said. “That’s how I feel, too. So I guess the answer is, we’re monogamous.”
“I’ll prepare the press release,” J told her.
“Yes, we’ll send it to all our exes.”
“And our more attractive colleagues.”
“And baristas. We need to send it to all the baristas. They’re always asking me what my name is, and we know what that leads to.”
“I love you,” J said to V then. It wasn’t the first time, but it still felt like an event when it was said this way.
“I love you, too,” V said back. Then she shifted away and asked, “Do you mind if I take the first shower?”
No, J didn’t mind at all.
“This is how it will go,” Nick Andrews says to J at a Starbucks across from Borough Hall, ten days after their initial contact. “The judge officiating today happens to be a big fan, so she’s down with you and me being in the chapel for the weddings, and you playing your quick tune—emphasis on the wordquick. Now of course we don’t want to be wedding crashers, so I’ve got two amazing interns, Dylan and Mike, asking each of the couples if they would like a serenade, no additional cost, courtesy ofThe New Yorker. I’m guessing half will be takers, half will tell us to scram. But the judge performs four or five weddings an hour, so even if half say yes, we’ll have enough for the story.”
“It’s nice that the judge is a fan,” J observes. “When I imagine my audience, it’s rarely the judiciary.”
“Oh,” Nick responds, looking momentarily at his shoes. “I meant she’s a fan ofThe New Yorker. She hasn’t heard of you. But she was intrigued!”
It had taken V three days to respond to J’s messages. In that time, he’d left Leipzig, returned home, and booked a new ticket to New York.
Sorry,she texted.I keep running out of time. I hope the wedding went well.
The text arrived at seven in the morning, J’s time. Which meant he was still asleep, and when he woke, he assumed V was alreadylost to work. He knew it was unlikely that V had planned the message to fall into this time-zone limbo.
If it had been three hours, and not three days, he would have texted back,It’s okay. No problem. But since it had been three days, and it struck him that she didn’t have any idea where in the world he was, he messaged back:
