18
RODRIGUEZ
Juliette’sin the bathroom and I’m staring at a blank hotel notepad like it’s going to write itself.
It won’t.
I’ve been sitting here for almost fifteen minutes. There’s a small pile of crumpled attempts in the trash can. Four different versions of the same problem: I don’t know how to say what I need to say.
I see you- sounds like a threat from a horror movie
You’re incredible- what is this, a participation trophy?
Today was perfect- boring, generic, could be about anything
I love you- absolutely not, way too soon, she’ll panic
I press the pen to paper.
Nothing.
My hand won’t move. My brain won’t cooperate. I’ve left her notes all week but this feels different. Like whatever I write needs to matter more.
What if I write the wrong thing? What if I push too hard and she?—
The bathroom door opens and steam rolls out.
I flip the notepad over fast. Too fast. Definitelysuspicious.
Juliette’s in a towel, hair dripping, water running down her shoulders. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing.”
“You look guilty.”
“I always look guilty.”
She gives me a look like she knows I’m full of shit but she’s not going to push.
I need to figure this out. I need to write something. But not now. Not with her watching.
“We need to leave soon,” she says.
I grab my suit and escape to the bathroom.
The church isold and stone and I barely notice any of it because Olivia’s already spotted us and she’s moving fast.
“You’re here!” She hugs Juliette, then turns to me. “Okay, so we have a minor crisis but this can work. One of Owen’s groomsmen is in the hospital with food poisoning. Rodriguez can you please walk with Emma?”
“No problem.”
“You’re the best. Okay, wedding party is gathering in the back. Come on.”
She drags me toward a group of guys. Then a tiny woman with a clipboard appears and starts organizing everyone like we’re chess pieces.
“Parents first, then bridesmaids and groomsmen in pairs. Maid of honor with best man?—”
That’s when my brain catches up.
