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Her eyes widened immediately. There’s no telling what she expected me to do,me, the woman Cooper was dating when he made her his mistress. If we were in a soap opera, there would have been an altercation that ended with a call for security.
“Now, just a friend,” I amended, trying to convey to her that there was no bad blood. My only objection to having to face Cooper’s new girlfriend was the inevitable bit of small talk we had to withstand after our introductions.
I could see the relief on her face once she realized this weekend wouldn’t be half as bad as she was expecting.
“So you’re living in Boston now?” she asked. “So cool. Did you come down for the wedding by yourself?”
“Yeah, just got in,” I said, pointing down to my suitcase.
“No plus-one?”
I smiled tightly. “Nope. I’m here alone this weekend.”
She took a half-step closer to Cooper, her fingers brushing his. The silent reminder was clear:I’m your girlfriend now, not her.
“He’s been fine,” I tell Sonya now. “I ran into him at check-in and again at brunch yesterday, but he was busy arguing with a waiter about the eggs they brought out for Samantha. I think she wanted them over easy and they brought her scrambled or something.”
“I hate her.”
I wince. “Don’t do that on my account. She’s fine.”
“Okay, then I strongly dislike her. You know it pains me to have her at the head table with us at the reception, but there’s no getting around it.”
“Seriously, I don’t care one bit.”
A knock on the door lets us know the photographer is ready to come in and snap photos of Sonya getting ready. The bridesmaids join us, along with her mom and cousins. The room is suddenly filled to the brim, and Sonya’s smile is ear to ear. I sit back and watch as sadness lingers in the periphery of my mood. I can’t help but miss my mother on days like this. She could have been my plus-one to this wedding. She would have loved to see me all dolled up. She would have told me how grown up I look, how beautiful and confident. And so, because she’s not here, I tell myself those things and try to believe them.
The wedding ceremony is outside, in front of the apple orchard. I walk down the aisle with Cooper then stand behind my best friend as she becomes a wife. White hydrangeas spill out of an arch Sonya and Wesley stand beneath to exchange their vows. I’m surprised by the tears that spring forth, enough that I have to bow my head for a moment and swipe under my eyes as Wesley promises to love and cherish Sonya forever.
A cocktail hour follows, and I’m careful to sip slowly on my one glass of champagne. I don’t want to make a fool of myself during my speech later. Even with all the guests in attendance, I feel adrift. I chat with old college friends for a bit; Annette and CJ are just as I remember them, living in California and Washington respectively and doing well. Sonya is pulled in every direction, chatting and smiling and posing for photos. Cooper and Samantha stay as far away from me as possible, which is actually preferable. I’m approached by a groomsman, Wesley’s cousin, toward the end of the cocktail hour, and he talks to me for a bit. He’s so handsome, tall, and refreshingly easygoing. The dimple on his right cheek never disappears, that’s how smiley he is. For a few minutes, I try to give him a chance, mostly out of curiosity.Can someone distract me from my obsession with Professor Barclay?
It’s almost amusing that I even try.
My speech for Sonya’s wedding has been penned for a while. The night Wesley proposed to her, I started to keep a journal of ideas, things I thought I might want to tell her on her big day. I filled the pages with funny stories and anecdotes from college. If I ever stumbled on some bit of marriage advice, read a fitting passage in a book, or came across a sweet verse from a poem, I’d add it to the journal. Every time she’d text me something nice about Wesley, I’d add it in there too. This morning, before the start of the day’s festivities, when she and I were lying around, taking our sweet time getting up to get ready, I gave her the journal.
“This is my entire speech, everything I would say if I had ten hours to say it.”
She opened the front flap to find a photo of us taped to the first page. It was from the day we moved into our freshman dorm, the day we became roommates.
“I’ll stand up at your reception later and talk about how love is patient and kind and how Wesley is a lucky man to have you, but the truth is, I’m lucky to have you too. You’ve been a sister to me, someone I’ve taken for granted time and time again. I know our relationship hasn’t always been easy. I know I’m a tough nut to crack on occasion, but I love you so much, Sonya. You don’t know how important you are to me.”
Now, in front of the crowd, I share a condensed version of that journal for all of the wedding guests. They get only the highlights, the sappy-sweet version of why Sonya and Wesley are meant to be, the story of their first date, when Sonya rushed home and proudly declared that she was off the marketfor good.
It’s toward the end of my speech, when I glance up from my cue card, that my gaze is drawn to the double doors at the back of the banquet room.
My stomach squeezes tight.
At first, I don’t believe my eyes.
Professor Barclay stands there, leaned against the wall, hidden in the low light.
A waiter passes in front of him and I expect him to dissipate like an illusion, sand blown away by the wind, but he stays. No one seems to understand the gravity of him. No one else turns to stare. Their attention is on me and Cooper, and on the bride and groom sitting at the head table behind us.
He’s dressed in a sharp black tuxedo with a folded white pocket square winking from his breast pocket. There’s no smile; instead, he wears a look of quiet reverence as he watches me stutter over my words and finish my speech on muscle memory alone.
“I know we all feel blessed to be here celebrating with Wesley and Sonya today,” I say, feeling as though I’m in a dream. “Two people truly meant to be. Let’s raise our glasses to the bride and groom and wish them a lifetime of love and happiness. Cheers!”
I take a sip of my champagne, and then everyone applauds. I pass the microphone over to Cooper and try to ground myself in the present, but I can’t. Professor Barclay is at Sonya’s wedding even though I didn’t invite him, even though I pushed him away time and time again, even though he’s my boss and I’m the former student he never had to notice, even though the way forward is complicated…he’s here.
