Page 123 of See You Next Tuesday

“Devotion is also, of course, the foundational quality of marriage,” Jo said with a smile. “In the Gettysburg Address—yes, I’m a politician quoting the Gettysburg Address—President Lincoln referred to soldiers dying for their country as their last full measure of devotion. Which might seem like a macabre reference for a celebration, until you remember that the whole purpose of a wedding is to make a promise kept until death. Marriage is an extraordinary act of trust, and it’s an absolute feat of devotion. Kira and Simone, my wonderful friends, if you don’t mind me being a little crass—I think you’re going to be fucking great at it.”

They all laughed, and then Simone handed her bouquet to Anya so she could read her vows.

“Kira,” Simone said, her voice faltering just a little. “The moment I met you, the very first thing I thought was, Damn, this is about to be the hottest vacation sex I’ve ever had.”

Anya burst out laughing—everyone else did too.

“And I was right!” Simone grinned.

“Because you always are,” Kira said.

“After eight years, I’m glad you finally know that.” Simone laughed. “I was terrified by how much I already cared about you at the end of that first week. I thought that there was no way someone as smooth as you could be in this for the long haul—but you are. Even when it’s hard. Even when we can’t understand each other’s choices, even when we have to make what feel like impossible sacrifices in our own careers to keep this relationship going. Baby, I’m so glad we’re taking these wedding vows today, but in some ways, I don’t even need to hear them. You’ve already shown me everything I need to know.”

Every word of Simone’s vows felt like an indictment of Anya and Gabe, a confirmation that it was never going to work. They didn’t sacrifice their careers for each other—they did the exact opposite. Even now, Anya wasn’t sorry, and she was pretty sure Gabe wasn’t either. They both still thought they were right, even though it had more or less killed their relationship.

And after the last ten years, who could blame them? They’d hurt each other so often, mistrusted each other so deeply—why would they sacrifice their careers for each other? There was so much good between them; she loved him more than she’d ever loved a boyfriend, but maybe that wasn’t enough. And maybe that was okay. It was devastating, and it was horrible. But it felt good to reach what now seemed like an obvious conclusion.

Simone and Kira finished their vows and exchanged rings, and by the power vested in Jo by the United States Senate and the people of Nevada, she pronounced them legally married. The Tabard staff brought food and a lot of champagne, and the mood was heartfelt and celebratory as they ate and laughed. Jo excused herself after an hour—she wanted to get home to see her own husband before she and Anya headed up to New York the next morning. Anya was worried it would be agony to sit next to Gabe all through dinner, knowing what she’d decided to do, but Kira and Simone were so happy, and she and Gabe were both so happy for them, that it was almost easy. It felt like a gift, one last time for the four friends to be together before things got messy and complicated and awkward. It felt like a proper goodbye.

After the cake plates were cleared, Kira gave them all a knowing look.

“So, Simone and I have a room upstairs.” She grinned.

“And you’d like to get to it?” Gabe cracked. “I don’t blame you. Your wife is hot.”

“I am, aren’t I?” Simone yawned elaborately, wiggling her fingers to flash her ring.

They said their mazel tovs and goodbyes, and a minute later Gabe and Anya were alone at the table. And suddenly, nothing felt easy anymore.

“So.” Her heart was hammering. “Do you need to get back to Maryland?”

“Anya, no.” He looked at her with concern. “I mean, if you want me to go, I’ll go. But I don’t want to. You’re my priority.”

“Now that you’ve won,” she added. She hated how bitter she sounded, but she didn’t think she was wrong.

“No.” Gabe stared at her. “Always. I offered to quit the campaign for you.”

“Because you knew I’d never ask you to do that,” Anya said quietly. She wiped a tear a little too harshly—her hand was rough against her cheekbone.

“Do you wish you had?” Gabe asked.

Anya shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Things were so good with us, An.” Gabe bowed his head. “Please tell me I didn’t ruin that.”

“Were they, though? Like, actually?”

“What does that mean?” Gabe frowned. “Anya, we’re in love.”

“But you didn’t ask me.” Her voice cracked. “We were together for all of a month before you decided to work for Wheeler, knowing full well how I felt about him.”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t ask me either.” Gabe looked angry now, but she couldn’t see why.

“Ask you what? About working for Jo? You love Jo!”

“About going on the road!” Gabe said. “We had just agreed we wanted to move together, you knew how hard it was for me to do long distance with Tallulah, and you unilaterally decided to take a job where there was no possible way for us to be in the same place.”

“You did the same thing!” Anya snapped. “Did you think I’d move with you to Frederick? Take a job for Wheeler? Or better yet, sit at home while you worked sixteen-hour days for someone I hate? Tell me, what did you think would happen to us when you took that job?”