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Natalie is beaming from ear to ear like a total fool. Admitting I love her dad isn't scary—she can see the proof herself when he and I look at each other. Telling her I want to marry him is a totally different emotion that chokes me up. Wrecking his heart is not on my list of things to do, and neither is losing a bestie.
Tears fill my eyes, and I swallow hard before telling her what’s been on my mind since the first time James brought up marriage.
"I'm scared, Nat." My heart rushes with anxiety and the knots in my stomach are cramping together. The truth is always hard to admit. "I'm afraid of loss. Everyone who's ever meant something to me has died."
I blink and stare, thinking about James dressed in a designer tux standing next to the officiant with Natalie across from him. I'd want our wedding to be small and intimate, so it's only about our love and the people who mean the most to us. My gut is saying to take the risk, but my heart is marked with blemishes that hold me back. His face flashes through my mind again, and this time not only do I see his devastation, I feel it.
"You know he's so madly in love with you he'd do anything to be with you, right?" She pauses, and for the first time since I’ve known her, she looks reluctant to continue. "I never saw him look at my mom the way he does you." She lowers her voice. "I always thought they were in love. They laughed, they smiled, they kissed, the usual affection every married couple and parents have for one another. But as I get older, I realize they didn't love each other in the same degree as you guys do. Not in the sense my dad loves you, that's for sure. The smiles are real, the kisses aren't forced, and the laughs are genuine. It's a bone-deep type of love." She squints her eyes as she thinks about her next set of words. "Isn't it funny how things work out? You think you know love until someone comes around and changes your entire perception of the word, making you reexamine every aspect of your life." She pauses, then continues more to herself than to me. "It takes you by surprise and makes you wonder why that is, what was lost or what was never there."
James wants a marriage with someone he loves more than life, and he wants that with me.
My eyes clench shut at the veracity of my thoughts. It makes my heart swell with pride that he'd want me to be his wife.
Opening my eyes, I steel a look at Natalie. I think she's realizing how honest her confession is, which is how I see it. It takes strength for her to let go and admit her father loves me in ways he didn't her mother. They're her parents, and I would bet it's caused her to question things she hasn't told me yet.
Natalie continues, though her tone is gentle. Sympathetic. "If I was a reason you were holding back from marrying him, and we already confirmed you didn't cause the loss of your family, what’s really going on?"
We're both quiet for a moment until I look away with embarrassment. I have a great man who wants to make me his wife, he wants to give me the world, and I said no.
"Me. I guess it's just me." I let out a dramatic sigh over my stupidity. "I'm dumber than a box of rocks."
She offers me a somber smile that clenches my heart. Melancholy doesn't complement her.
"Yeah. This isn't any regular relationship, so there's no manual to reference. Look at how you met him up until now. Sometimes weird shit, like marrying your John who's also your best friend's dad, is meant to happen."
I glance at her and we both bust out laughing. "Yeah, maybe in some alternate universe."
"Yolo," she says quickly. Natalie picks up the tequila bottle and takes a swig, then hands it to me. "Cheers to you becoming Mrs. Aubrey Riviera. I'll never call you mommy, so don't get any ideas."
The shot doesn't make it down. It gets stuck in my throat and I choke. Mrs. Aubrey Riviera. My eyes widen as fucking tequila spills from my mouth and my nose. It hits the ground with a splat. I reach out and Natalie takes the bottle, then moves next to me.
"Lift your arms above your head," she says.
I don't question her, I just do it. The burn of the tequila effectively sears off the skin in my nostrils, while simultaneously making me feel like I have a horrible case of strep throat. I turn my face into my bicep and cough into it. My eyes are watering, and I squeeze them shut.
"Bend over and put your head between your legs."
"What?" This time I manage a brief confused-as-fuck look at her.
Eyes wide, Natalie yells, "Just do it!"
Eighteen
I do and she scoots closer so she can pat my back and rub circles over it.
"My mom used to do this to me when I had croup as a kid. This angle is supposed to help when you're choking and can't breathe. Take small breaths and focus."
I'm perched on the edge of the lounge chair with my knees spread wide and my body bent over, my arms still in the air. I feel like an idiot sitting like this, and I can't tell if this is helping or not with how far I'm leaning over. I feel like I'm blocking my airways, not opening them up. Once the coughing subsides and my eyes aren't watering anymore, I sit up.
I look at Natalie. "You know the first thing I thought of when you told me to put my head between my legs? Marilyn Manson."
"What the fuck for and why?"
"I heard he had some ribs taken out so he can suck his own dick."
She blinks, and remains quiet for a second, then lets out a hilarious chuckle. "This is why we're besties. It's shit like this that comes out of your mouth that just confirms we're soul mates. Wait—did you think I was telling you to get yourself off?"
It's my turn to giggle. "No, he just popped into my head for some reason. I felt like I was bent over really far and he just appeared in front of me, pasty white face and all, but I swear he had piranha teeth." I pause, thinking about how weird this conversation is now. "I guess I wondered if he could actually do it or not."
