Maid of honor. Best man.
Juliette. Garrett.
I watch her walk to the back and stand next to him.
Oh no.
“You’re with me,” Emma says, looping her arm through mine.She’s one of the bridesmaids. Blonde, friendly, talking about something I’m not really listening to because Juliette’s standing there with Garrett and I’m three groomsmen away.
“Parents first!” the coordinator calls.
Juliette’s mom walks. Then Owen’s parents. Then Emma’s pulling me forward.
We walk down the aisle but my mind keeps replaying the image of Juliette and Garrett behind me and how I want to insert myself in between them so he can’t even touch her.
I turn and see them walking together, perfectly in step. He’s talking to her, his mouth moving rapidly and her face is turned away, as if she can’t be bothered by what he’s whispering.
They look right together and my chest physically hurts, as if someone’s dropped a weight there and I can’t even inhale a full breath.
She’s walking toward the altar and she glances up briefly, our eyes meet and my brain does something stupid.
It replaces Garrett with me.
Suddenly I’m seeing it. Juliette in white. Walking toward me. Not her sister’s wedding. Ours.
Her hair would be down. She’d probably hate that but I’d convince her. And she’d be crying because Juliette pretends she doesn’t cry but she does. And her dad would be walking her toward me and I’d be standing right there waiting and?—
Wait.
Wait wait wait.
What the fuck.
I’m thinking about marrying her. Actually marrying her.
We’ve been dating for approximately 8 hours. She hasn’t even said she loves me. I haven’t said it to her. And now I’m having wedding fantasies like some kind of psychopath.
Pump the brakes. Slow down.
Except I can’t stop seeing it.
Her in white. My ring on her finger. Waking up next to her every morning.
I want that.
Holy shit I want that so much it’s making me dizzy.
I actually sway on my feet.
“You good?” One of the groomsmen whispers.
“Yeah. Fine.”
I’m not fine. I’m losing my mind. I’m standing in a church watching my fake-not-fake-girlfriend walk down the aisle with her ex-boyfriend and my brain is short-circuiting between “propose to her right now” and “you absolute lunatic you’ve been together for less time than it takes to play a hockey game.”
This is week one. Week ONE. Normal people don’t think about marriage after one week.
But I’m not thinking about it like it’s some distant future thing. I’m thinking about it like it’s inevitable. Like it’s already decided and we’re just waiting.
