Like I know how this ends and it ends with her.
Oh god I’m going to pass out.
They reach the altar. Juliette goes to Olivia’s side, directly across from where Garrett’s standing. She’s looking straight ahead, wearing the neutral expression she uses when she’s performing.
I’m three people away from her. Too far.
The officiant is explaining something. When to stand, when to sit. I’m not listening because I’m still seeing her in white at our wedding. Trying to convince myself I’m not completely insane.
“Now we’ll practice the recessional,” the coordinator says. “Maid of honor and best man first.”
They have to walk back down the aisle together.
I watch Juliette take Garrett’s arm again. Watch them walk. Watch him lean close and say something, watch her turn her head away as if she’s completely snubbing him. I hope she is.
And my brain is still showing me the wrong version. The right version. Our version.
“Okay, let’s run through it again!” the coordinator calls.
They walk down the aisle together. Again.
By the third run-through I’m gripping my thigh to stay upright.
Half my brain is screaming:You need to lock this down. Propose. Make sure she’s yours.
The other half is screaming:YOU PSYCHO SHE DOESN’T EVEN KNOW IF SHE WANTS TO SAY SHE LOVES YOU.
Both halves are right. Both halves are wrong. I don’t know anymore.
I just know I want her. And watching her walk down an aisle with someone else is actually killing me.
“I think we’ve got it!” The coordinator sounds pleased. “Dinner in twenty minutes!”
Everyone starts moving, talking, heading for the exits. Juliette finds me.
“So. Guess you’re in the wedding.”
“Yeah.”
“That’s very committed for a fake boyfriend.”
“Good thing I’m not fake then.”
She smiles and takes my hand, I know I’m holding hers too tight but she doesn’t seem to mind.
The restaurant is loud,everyone talking over each other. I end up between Juliette and one of Owen’s cousins who won’t stop talking about crypto.
I’m not listening because I still can’t shake the image of Juliette in white. My brain is stuck in that church on the fantasy.
“You okay?” Juliette’s looking at me, her hand on my arm.
“Yeah. Fine.”
“You’re quiet.”
“Just thinking.”
“About what?”
