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“Oh my God. I forgot.” I stared at the calligraphy on the front. My name was written beautifully.
“What is it?” AJ stared at it.
“The invitation for Becca and Travis’s wedding.” I held it up to show him.
It was bizarre that in the middle of everything we were going through a thousand miles away Becca was finalizing flower arrangements. She was being fitted for her gown. She and Travis were arguing over the colors for the groomsmen’s shoes. She was living in the glow that surrounded brides.
“Oh that. I think I heard something about them getting married in a few months,” he answered.
“Wait, are you and Travis not close anymore? I guess that means you’re not a groomsmen.”
He shook his head. “No. We kind of lost touch. What about you and Becca? I thought you two were best friends. Not a bridesmaid?”
I didn’t want to admit how far apart we had grown. It wasn’t her fault. It had been too painful to stay connected after AJ. Everything was a reminder.
“Texts here and there. She invited me to the bachelorette party, but I didn’t make it. I’ve seen a few pictures of the ring,” I admitted. “I know I should have been more involved.” I rose from the table and walked to the coffee pot. Maybe a cup would help with my headache. I pured a small cup and added creamer from the refrigerator.
“I think there’s one more cocktail party to celebrate the pre-wedding season. I should definitely attend. I need to support her.”
Agent Canson cleared his throat. “Is this couple relevant to any recent events?” He tried to steer us back on track. “Should I know something here?”
I was stuck thinking about the life AJ and I used to have. Life inside the townhouse together. Life living next to Becca and Travis. Our double dates. The soccer games. TV nights. All the things that came with coupledom. There was never a way to untangle the way AJ and I were reintroduced after college from the relationship Becca and Travis had. It was enmeshed.
I distanced myself from her after the breakup. At first it was little things like not showing up for cocktail hour. Or being too tired for a shopping trip. What she didn’t know was that I couldn’t handle seeing the bench on her patio where AJ and I drank wine. I didn’t want to hear about Travis’s soccer games. I couldn’t bear the PDA. I slipped out of view and out of touch as soon as I moved off the street. I had already left DataCorp. Disappearing was easy. I was too embarrassed to tell her what a wreck I was. Too ashamed to admit how hard I had fallen.
I walked back over to the table and picked up invitation. I held it in my hand. My relationship with Becca was one more thing I felt guilty about. I had been a horrible friend. AJ and I were committed to our second chance. This invitation symbolized one as well. I needed to take it.
“I think we should go.” My eyes lifted to AJ’s. “Don’t you think?”
He laughed. “Show up at the wedding together?”
I bit my lip. “Yes. Can you imagine what they would say? Becca would be thrilled.” I grinned. “And I’m going to buy them the most amazing wedding present. I’ll buy all the wedding presents. Whatever they want. I have a lot to make up for. Do you want to go with me?”
“Yes, babe. I’ll go to Becca and Travis’s wedding with you. Could be fun. I’m sure there will be a band. Plenty of booze.”
“Oh yes. You know Becca will have everything.”
I had almost forgotten about Agent Canson. I was sinking in the waves of what I had rediscovered with AJ. How quickly it all came back.
“Ms. Mil—Sydney, we need to get back to your debrief. If this couple is not a relevant part of Flight 552 or what happened today, I suggest we move on.”
I ripped open the envelope, searching for the RSVP card. I stood and opened kitchen drawers until I found a pen. I quickly scribbled my response on the linen paper. Two guests. One chicken and one steak entrée. I’d let my plus one be a surprise.
I sealed it inside the self-stamped envelope and handed it to AJ. “Will you make sure this gets mailed? I know I’m not allowed outside or I would take care of it.” I shot an accusatory stare at Canson.
“Of course, babe. I’ll handle it.”
“Please, Sydney,” Agent Canson grumbled. “Is there any other item in this distribution that looks unusual to you?”
I folded my hands across the table. “No. There is no other mail in here that looks out of place. It’s all junk. You can throw it away.” I pushed it back toward him.
“All right, since that is taken care of.” He shook his head as if he was clearing the last five minutes from his memory. “I want to clarify a few other items.”
I took a sip of coffee. The creamer was laced with something sweet. I puckered my lips.
“What are those?”
He lifted a photo from his briefcase and placed it in the center of the table. I couldn’t see what it was a photo of under his hand.
