Three Stupid Weddings

by Ann Gallagher

  “None of us,” Mandi said. “We just left somebody else’s wedding.” She didn’t elaborate, and that was fine by me. I was ready to enjoy the rest of our evening, not rehash why we’d all felt the need to vacate the country club.

  “Well,” the waiter said, “what can I get for you to drink?”

  We all ordered beers, and he left us to look over the menu. As we perused options for pizzas, burgers, and whatever else, I surreptitiously kept an eye on Vic. At a place like this with mostly unhealthy food, it was a safe bet he might get into one of those spirals again. Maybe it would help if I could divert his focus to something else, or if I offered to split something, or—

  A phone chirped. Shana grumbled something as she dug around in her purse. When she looked at the screen, she huffed.

  “Oh hey.” Shana smirked. “Looks like people are figuring out we’re gone.”

  Vic pulled out his phone too. “Yep, they have.”

  “Yeah?” I asked. “Anybody getting upset?”

  “Not yet.” Vic started thumbing a message. “They’re just asking where we are. Give it time.” He tapped the screen a few times. Shana was doing the same on her phone, and Taylor followed suit. The three of them had barely sent the messages before responses started coming in. Great. Just what Vic needed—another reason to stress himself out when he needed to eat. On the other hand, we’d all eaten at the wedding, so it wasn’t like any of us needed an enormous meal right now, but Vic had enough stress associated with food. He wasn’t going to go hungry today—I just didn’t want anything dogpiling the damage his ex had done to his ability to eat.

  Vic picked up his menu again, and he scowled as he skimmed over the page. Deep furrows appeared between his eyebrows. With a sigh, he turned the page, and his lips twisted as he read it.

  I nudged him gently with my shoulder. “You want to go play some video games? We don’t have to order right this second.”

  He looked toward the arcade area, and some stiffness melted away from his posture. Lowering the menu, he turned to me. “Want to?”

  “Are you really asking me that question?” I nodded at the arcade. “Dude, there’s an old-school Star Wars game over there.”

  At that, his eyes lit up. “Let’s go.”

  “They have Star Wars?” Mandi craned her neck as Vic and I got up.

  “Yeah,” I said. “I think it’s one of the older ones.”

  “Sweet. Can I join you?”

  “The more the merrier, honey,” Vic said with a smile, and the three of us trooped over to the arcade. A minute later, Jack, Taylor, and Shana joined us, bringing with them the beers we’d all forgotten we’d ordered. For a solid half hour, everyone ignored their phones while we poured quarters into coin slots and tried to blow up the Death Star.

  At one point, Shana and Mandi ordered a giant basket of crinkle fries topped with bacon and melted cheese, which we all nibbled as Jack and I played some ancient two-player Mafia game with terrible graphics and no plot. I glanced over in the middle of a gun battle to see Vic pulling some fries off the pile, carefully cupping his hand so the melting cheese didn’t drip everywhere, and though that momentary distraction cost me one of my remaining lives, it was worth it. I smiled to myself, especially when Vic mumbled, “Holy shit, these are good” around a mouthful of cheesy bacon fries. Maybe it was baby steps, and maybe he’d had to battle it out mentally before he’d reached for the fries, but I counted it as a win.

  Fuck you, Max. He is so moving on.

  We played for a while, and went through two huge baskets of fries between the six of us. Taylor and Shana were floating the idea of ordering some pie or ice cream, so after one last round of blowing up the Death Star—I didn’t try, I did—we went back to the booth.

  Not two minutes after we’d sat back down, Shana’s phone beeped. She glared at the screen, then blew out a breath. “Ugh. Again?”

  “Your mom?” Mandi asked.

  “Yeah.” Shana groaned. “I better go call her before she freaks out completely. Be right back.” She slid out of the booth and headed for the door.

  Taylor scowled. “Yeah. Same.”

  “Damn,” Jack grumbled. “We were having a good time, too.”

  Taylor made an unhappy sound of agreement and followed Shana outside.

  “What about you?” I asked Vic.

  He frowned at his phone. Then with a resigned sigh, he gestured that he wanted to get up. I slid out of the booth to let him, and as he stood, he grumbled, “Hopefully this won’t take long.”

  Fortunately, it didn’t. At least not for Vic. Shana and Taylor were still outside, Taylor pacing while they talked on their phone, Shana scowling at the pavement while she talked on hers. Vic’s call only went on for a couple of minutes, thank God. It was just me in the booth when he came back, since Jack and Mandi had gone up to order some ice cream sundaes, and I was grateful for a moment of relative privacy.

  “How did it go?” I asked.

  He dropped onto the bench beside me. “Eh.” He leaned into me like he often did, and I wrapped my arm around his shoulders.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  “Yeah. And my mom understands why we left. She’s not mad. I don’t know why I feel so…blah after talking to her.”

  “Because talking about this stuff is exhausting.” I squeezed his shoulder. “Especially right after you had to actually put up with it.”

  Vic nodded slowly, head still resting against my shoulder. “I’m sorry you had to put up with it. I had no idea my cousin was a fucking homophobe.”

  “It’s not your fault.” I stroked his hair with my fingertips. “Are you sure you’re doing okay?”

  “I’m good. Just kind of pissed off that we drove this far and…” He waved a hand.

  “I know. But hey, we can have a good time here.”

  “Yeah.” He looked up at me, a tired smile on his lips. “You are having a good time, right?”

  “Dude, there’s hot fudge sundaes and I got to blow up the Death Star three times.” And you’re here. “What’s not to love?”

  Vic laughed. “Okay. Just say so if you want to take off.”

  “I will. I promise.”

  A moment later, Jack slid into the booth. Taylor and Shana weren’t far behind, and Shana looked around with a puzzled expression. “Where’s Mandi?”

  Jack gestured over his shoulder with his thumb. “Restroom.”

  As if on cue, Mandi came around the corner at the other end of the restaurant. As she sat back down, she gestured back the way she’d come. “Hey, did you guys notice this place has a jukebox?”

  “Does it?” Vic twisted around to look. I craned my neck too, and sure enough, an old Wurlitzer gleamed just beyond the semicircle of arcade games. How I didn’t notice it before, I had no idea.

  “Looks like it has some decent music too,” she said. “Some older stuff, some newer. Probably better than whatever Wendy’s deejay was going to play.”

  Vic chuckled and wagged a finger at Mandi. “She said it—we were all thinking it.”

  Everyone nodded.

  Grinning, Jack said, “I have an idea. How about we load up the jukebox with all the cheesiest slow-dance ballads they played at prom, and we dance here?”

  “Oh my God,” I said. “I love that idea.”

  “Dibs on One Direction!” Mandi slid out of the booth.

  “Like hell!” Taylor was on their feet faster and charged ahead of her.

  I laughed as they jostled for position at the jukebox. To Vic, I said, “You have any change left?”

  “No, but I’ve got a couple of fives.” He smiled with a hint of shyness in his eyes. “You saying you want me to get some quarters so we can dance?”

  I always want to dance with you.

  “As long as it’s not revenge twerking.”

  That got a burst of laughter out of him, which in turn sent a rush of warmth through me. I would never get tired of the way this man looked when he was happy.

  We added
our choices to the selection list, then joined our new friends on the closest thing the restaurant had to a dancefloor. Basically, the stretch of floor between the video games and some unoccupied booths. People might have stared at us or even taken pictures. I couldn’t say I cared. With my arm around Vic’s waist and his other hand resting gently in mine, nothing else in the world mattered.

  Vic looked up at me. “This is even better than dancing at the wedding.”

  “No homophobes?”

  “Well, that.” He smiled. “I was thinking fewer people at all. More elbow room.”

  I glanced around and realized he was right. Only six people danced in this otherwise empty space, and there were miles between all of us. We had plenty of room to move, but we held each other as close as if we’d wedged ourselves into a tiny pocket of space on a crowded floor.

  Cheek to cheek, we swayed together. Right there on the weathered linoleum, dressed for a black-tie wedding we’d abandoned, we danced under fluorescent lights between a cluster of arcade games and a row of red faux leather booths while some One Direction song played, the song occasionally interrupted by announcements that someone’s pizza was ready. It was ridiculous, and it was romantic, and it was perfect. It didn’t even matter why we were here instead of at the wedding. Somehow, this just felt like where we needed to be tonight.

  Vic drew back a bit, and when he looked in my eyes, we both smiled. For the whole trip, I’d been itching to tell him everything I’d talked about with Haley. Now, with a sappy song playing and Vic holding me this tight, it seemed like the perfect time. I didn’t think I’d ever been more tempted or ever had the words so close to the tip of my tongue.

  Do you have any idea how much I love you?

  He gazed at me with the most serene smile on his face. “You know, all things considered, tonight turned out to be pretty nice.”

  “Yeah. It did.”

  His brow pinched, though some humor still lingered in his expression. “Shame we couldn’t stay long enough for cake.”

  “Eh.” I shrugged. “There’ll be other weddings. I’ll live.”

  “You sure?” His eyebrows rose.

  “Of course. It was fucked up how things happened at the wedding, but I like how the evening turned out.”

  The smile returned. The one that always made my heart go wild. Holding my gaze, he said, “I like how it turned out too.”

  We looked in each other’s eyes for a few beats. Then he pulled me in close again, and I smiled to myself as I held him and we kept dancing.

  No, I hadn’t told him yet. And no, I wouldn’t do it now. Tonight was just too perfect on its own.

  Tomorrow.

  I’ll finally tell you tomorrow.

  ~*~

  On Sunday morning, I was a twitchy nervous wreck. The wedding was over, and in a couple of hours, we’d be on the road home. Then it was just a question of whether I’d wait until we were home, or if I’d risk two hundred fifty-plus miles of awkward silence. The odds were even either way. Part of me was desperate to get it out there and be done with it so I could stop freaking out over it. The other part wanted to wait until there was an easy escape just in case I needed a private place to cringe until either I imploded or the ground mercifully opened up and swallowed me.

  Before I crossed that terrifying bridge, though, we’d promised his parents we’d have breakfast with them and a few other family members. We’d all stayed at the same hotel, and around nine, everyone came shuffling in. I braced for the awkwardness of facing people after we’d blown off the wedding. I wasn’t about to apologize for leaving, but I didn’t imagine the aftermath was going to be fun.

  Sure enough, we were met with some uncomfortable grimaces when we walked into the hotel’s restaurant. At least no one seemed upset with us. Upset for us, maybe.

  “Oh honey.” Karen rose to give him a hug. “Aunt Debby wanted me to tell you how sorry she is.”

  “It’s not her fault,” Vic muttered. “Did Wendy even notice we were gone?”

  His mom sighed. “If she did, she didn’t say anything to us. And believe me, her mother is going to have a discussion with her after she gets back from her honeymoon. If Debby had known about it, she’d have given her an earful.”

  “I would hope so.”

  Karen gave him an apologetic look before she turned to hug me. “Did you two at least have a good time last night?”

  I couldn’t help smiling. I was still pissed about why we’d had to leave, but in the end we’d probably had a better time than the bride had at her own reception. Screw the wedding—last night had been amazing.

  “Yeah,” I said. “We had fun.”

  Vic looked at me and returned my smile. Man, I could not wait until we were alone and I could finally say something.

  Breakfast was a buffet, so we made our rounds and returned to the table with our plates. I surreptitiously made sure Vic was actually eating—not just pretending half a strawberry counted as breakfast—and was happy to see he’d gotten some scrambled eggs, a couple of sausage links, and a glass of orange juice. He wasn’t just poking at them or chasing them around the plate, either. Good.

  Everyone chatted about the wedding while we ate. I didn’t mind, and Vic didn’t seem to. Just because the bride had been a jerk didn’t mean everyone else couldn’t have a good time, and I was glad they had.

  “I’m kind of sad it’s over, though.” Karen sighed. “This means we’re all out of weddings for the year.”

  “I know.” Aunt Charlotte shook her head. “Now we have to wait and see who’s getting married next year.”

  One by one, every gaze in the room shifted to Vic.

  No, not to Vic.

  To us.

  My stomach lurched. Uh…

  Beside me, Vic froze, his fork halfway to his mouth. “What?” Lowering his fork, he looked around and laughed nervously. “We’ve been seeing each other for like three months.”

  “But you said yourself you’ve been friends for years.” His mom’s voice was gently teasing, but there was a hint of something else there. Of real hope and maybe some pressure.

  No, no, no. Don’t do this to him. Not now!

  “And after that stunt Wendy pulled,” Aunt Charlotte went on, apparently doubling down, “I think this family needs another gay wedding. I mean, the nerve, right after her own cousin’s wedding.”

  I gritted my teeth. I didn’t like the reminder of us being relegated to the rainbow table last night, and I wasn’t impressed with the implication that we should get married because we were the most convenient couple to cancel out the homophobic faux pas. If I ever got married—to Vic or anyone else—it would be because I loved the person, not because we needed to reset the status quo.

  Vic laughed with obvious discomfort. “I’m sure someone in the family will get engaged in time to get married next summer.”

  Though no one said it, the question hung in the air like thick, sticky humidity—why not you two?

  I had no idea what to say. Part of me kind of wanted to jokingly float the idea, if only to break the tension, but I didn’t dare. Otherwise Vic would never hear the end of it from his family, and anyway, I wanted to talk to him seriously about us being a couple. Not make a joke about it, let him laugh it off, and then say “no really, I’d marry you in a heartbeat.”

  “Listen,” his mom said. “There’s no pressure, okay? You’re probably right—someone will get engaged. Probably over Christmas like everyone seems to in this family.” She smiled and gave Vic’s arm a squeeze. “I’m just glad to see you happy again, and if the two of you—”

  “Mom.” He put up his hand. “Stop. Please.”

  His aunt Charlotte smiled across the table. “Honey, we all just want to see you happy. If the two of you are happy just like you are, then keep doing what you’re doing. There’s no pressure.”

  That should have eased the tension in Vic’s posture, but it didn’t. If anything, I thought it made it worse. He looked at his mom, his aunt, and the othe
r family members around the table, and the pain in his eyes made my breath catch. Before any of us could ask what was on his mind, he exhaled, deflating beside me as he broke eye contact with Karen.

  “I can’t… I can’t keep doing this.”

  I suddenly felt sick.

  He faced Karen again. “We’re… look. Dom and I aren’t actually dating.”

  Everyone stared. I couldn’t see their expressions because I couldn’t make myself look at anyone but Vic, but I could feel the shock and confusion in the air.

  Karen sat up, forearms on the edge of the table. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean…” Vic dropped his gaze for a second. “Dom and I aren’t a couple. We never have been.”

  “But… You two…” Karen sputtered. “I don’t understand.”

  Sighing heavily, Vic sagged back in his chair. “I just broke up with someone a few months ago, and I was still getting over that. I am still getting over it. And I was afraid to come to all the weddings this summer and have everyone try to hook me up with every single gay man in town. So…” He gestured at me, but didn’t look at me. “Dom came along as my date.”

  “As your fake date?” Karen’s voice wasn’t hostile or angry. Just utterly confused. “Why didn’t you just tell us you didn’t want anyone—”

  “Because I know you mean well. I know everyone does. I didn’t want to hurt your feelings, and I just thought… I guess…” He finally turned to me, millions of unreadable emotions gleaming in his eyes in that split second before he dropped his gaze again. “It seemed like a good idea at the time, but I can’t do it anymore.” He pulled in a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “Dom and I are friends. I don’t have a boyfriend.”

  His words hung in the air. The puzzlement in everyone’s expressions made me wish the ground would open up and swallow me. Not because the jig was up and they knew the truth, but because it was the truth. Because we’d convinced all these people we were a couple, and they’d believed it so hard they were bewildered to realize it had been an act all along.

  And it hurt like hell for me to realize it really had been an act all along.