Page 122 of See You Next Tuesday

But there was still nothing that Anya wouldn’t do for Simone. So Anya showered and styled her hair, and now she needed a dress. She ran her fingers over the black one she’d worn to Jeff Rooney’s house on the night Gabe first told her about Danny. No, couldn’t wear that. Behind it was a draped cocktail dress made of heavy cornflower-blue silk that Anya had worn to Jill and Laurel’s wedding. It might be too fancy for dinner, but that was okay. Anya didn’t want to feel like she was at work.

She spent close to an hour doing her makeup; it took nearly half that time to sufficiently cover the purple bags beneath her eyes. But once she put on some pearlescent eyeshadow and dewy blush, a couple of coats of mascara and some soft rosy lipstick, she looked almost like herself again. Sad and hollowed, but at least herself. She zipped up the dress and pulled on her black leather jacket and some strappy silver heels, then called a car to the Tabard.

The Tabard Inn was Simone’s favorite place in DC, and it was one of Anya’s too—a quirky hotel and restaurant that felt like Alice in Wonderland by way of Colonial Williamsburg, lush ivy and spooky old oil portraits and tiny silver spoons. When Anya walked into the wood-paneled lobby, she saw Gabe waiting by the host stand; he turned when he heard Anya’s heels on the wooden floor. He was wearing his favorite suit, the black one that had a little sheen, over a dark shirt, and he was holding two bunches of flowers. He looked like his heart was in his throat. Anya felt like her stomach was full of lead.

“Hi,” he said softly. “You look amazing.”

“You too.” She stopped a couple of feet away from him, then nodded stiffly toward the flowers. “What are those?”

“For Simone.” He held up a big bunch of roses, then handed the other bunch to Anya—it was smaller, filled with wildflowers. “Black-eyed Susans. Your favorite, right?”

“Yeah.” She nodded. That was thoughtful. “What for?”

“For nothing.” He shrugged. “For love.”

Anya looked down at the flowers. “Thank you.”

She wished she could look up at him, or that she knew what to say to him. She wished the sight of him didn’t make her want to scream.

“For Kira Liu?” The host approached them, and they nodded. “Will you follow me, please?”

Gabe waited to walk behind Anya. When he put his hand on the small of her back, she went tense.

“Sorry.” He looked hurt as he drew his hand back, which made her feel both guilty and furious. What right did he have to act like she was the one who’d hurt him?

The host led them down the hotel’s main hallway, past the restaurant.

“You have a private area,” he explained. “It’s through here.”

He led them onto a small, brick-walled patio with a few outdoor heaters and a wooden table laid with candles. At the far side of the patio, Kira wore a cream-colored suit, and Simone was in a white sequined cocktail dress. They were standing under an archway of flowers, along with Jo Sessego.

Simone burst into a giant smile. Anya had never seen her look more beautiful.

“Thanks for coming to our wedding.”

“Oh my god!” Anya rushed over and threw herself into Simone’s arms. Next to them, Gabe and Kira hugged too. Anya and Kira hugged next, and Gabe handed Simone her flowers.

“This is perfect,” Simone said graciously. “I needed a bouquet.”

“Hi, Senator,” Anya said, turning to Jo. Jo held her arms wide and brought Anya in for a hug.

“Don’t worry, I won’t get too hammered. I know we’re wheels up at seven tomorrow morning.” Jo winked at Anya, then turned to Gabe. “How are you, Gabe? It’s good to see you.”

“You too, ma’am.” Gabe’s voice was tight. “You have no idea how good.”

Jo gave Gabe’s shoulder a squeeze, then he went to stand next to Kira as Anya took her place beside Simone.

“So,” Jo exhaled. “When you two asked me to do this—three days ago, by the way—I immediately picked up the phone to ask Anya to draft my remarks. Then I remembered that this was a surprise elopement, and also that it would be supremely uncool of me to perform a ceremony I hadn’t bothered to write myself. So I considered what I should say about marriage, and about Kira and Simone. The word I kept coming back to was devotion.”

Anya looked up at Gabe—he was looking at her too. She knew how devoted he was to her. She wanted so badly for that to be enough.

“It goes without saying that you two are an extremely devoted couple,” Jo said. “In my years working with you, I’ve seen this over and over. The way you consider each other in every decision. Your ability to show up for each other, always, no matter how horrible a day you might be having as individuals.”

Had Gabe considered Anya when he decided to work for Wheeler? Had Anya shown up for Gabe a single time since South Carolina?

“But I think your devotion runs even deeper,” Jo went on. “It’s the foundational quality of your love, and of your work. How devoted you are to your friends, to the causes and candidates who are lucky enough to call you our champions. To the strangers whose lives you seek to better, to whom you’ve devoted your own lives, as surely as you’ve devoted them to each other.”

Anya’s heart was aching. With joy for her friends, but with so much sorrow too. She wished she could have done more for Jo. And for all the strangers they’d hoped to serve.