Page 20 of I Wish He Would

BIANCA

Great, see you next month!

No turning back now. I’m still not sure who will be my plus-one for the wedding. But that’s a problem for future Alyssa to figure out. I plug in my phone and blast the Reputation album—my favorite pump-up music—over my speaker for the drive home.

As my girl Taylor would say, “Baby, let the games begin.”

I glance at Alyssa in my peripheral vision. We’re halfway into an episode of New Girl, and she hasn’t stopped pulling out the tassels on my throw pillow.

“Do you want to talk about it? Or would you prefer to keep destroying that pillow?”

Her hands stop moving. She glances down at the graveyard of tassels in her lap, then up at me. “I’m sorry, I think my fingers had a mind of their own. I’ll get you a new one.”

“I don’t need a new pillow.” I pause the show and shift to face her. “What’s going on?”

Alyssa slowly angles her body toward me. “Is it weird for me to talk about my date with you?”

I furrow my brows. “Why would that be weird? You come here after almost every date and tell me everything.”

She grabs one of the cookies I made this afternoon and nibbles on it. “Even if this one went well?”

“Went well as in you like him, or went well as in he wasn’t like Mike?” She didn’t even let me know she was going on the date yet, but it must’ve at least gone well enough that she didn’t text me to see if she could come over right after.

Alyssa glances down at the cookie, smiling shyly. “I couldn’t find a single thing wrong with him.”

I clench and unclench my fist. I need to be happy for her, even if it means our friendship might change. I swallow and force words out. “That’s a good sign. You can talk to me about anything.”

She blows out a sigh of relief. “Okay, good. I’ve been dying to debrief with someone.”

“Why can’t you tell your roommates?” I thought girls dissected every detail together.

“I told them it went well, but I feel like I can’t tell them everything. Not when they’re the ones who set me up with him.”

“Ah, the guy from their matchmaking.”

“You’re never going to guess who he is.” She pauses for a beat, then squeals. “Rhett Hayes.”

I was expecting her to say some teacher from Mallory’s work or an owner of one of the dogs Kelsey walks. Not someone famous. “The country singer?”

She nods, a soft smile on her lips.

“I didn’t know he lived in Louisville.”

Her expression dims slightly. “He doesn’t. His home base is Nashville, but he’s on tour right now. I still can’t believe he came to see me before his concert in Lexington.”

I raise an eyebrow. “That’s not exactly on the way.”

“I know.” She beams.

“That’s already more effort than the majority of the guys you’ve gone out with.”

“You make it sound like I’m a serial dater.” When I don’t say anything, she laughs. “Okay, maybe I have gone on a lot of first dates, but I’m just trying to find my husband. And Rhett has been the closest thing to a contender I’ve had.”

I’m just trying to find my husband.

The words repeat in my mind on a loop. I knew she was trying to find a date to her cousin’s wedding. And obviously she’s had lots of crazy first-date stories from her dating-app matches and her cousin’s matchmaking attempts. But she’s never told me she wants to settle down soon.

And if she finds someone to marry, I can’t even begin to think about how much her life—and our friendship—will change. But my agent has been hearing whispers about a potential mid-season trade for me, so maybe this is for the best. She’ll get married while I move to another state to play for a different team.