“Sure,” she said briskly. “I don’t mind at all if you two go together. But I can’t speak for him. You’ll need to ask him yourself.”
“Of course!” I was so relieved I was afraid I’d collapse on her pile of suitcases. “I totally wasn’t expecting you to call him for me when you’re about to—”
“Ready to go, Teresa?” Her father strode into the foyer at that moment. Mr. Sanchez was a former Air Force guy, and I knew he liked to keep things running on schedule. “Oh, hello, Ava,” he added when he saw me. “Come to say good-bye, eh?”
I smiled at him. “Something like that.”
“I’m ready, Dad.” Teresa hurried over and grabbed a couple of bags from the pile.
I went to help. “Thanks, Teresa,” I murmured, shooting her a grateful look as I picked up a suitcase. “I really appreciate this.”
She didn’t meet my look. “Uh-huh,” she said. “Not a big deal.”
I bit my lip. She sounded kind of weird. Was she just distracted and thinking about her trip? Or was there more to it?
“Okay,” I said, feeling helpless. I couldn’t exactly grab her and force her to talk more about this. Not now, with her father standing right there jingling his car keys and grabbing suitcases.
We hugged before she climbed into the car. “Have fun at the wedding,” she said. “You’ll have to e-mail me all about it afterward.”
“Will do. Have a great trip.” After one last squeeze I let her go.
I waved as they drove off. I couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something had been left unsaid between us. But I figured it was only the weirdness of the situation combined with the bad timing. Whatever it was, we would work it out when she got back.
In any case, the one thing I knew for sure was that when Teresa said something, she meant it. And she had definitely said I could take Jason to the wedding.
Actually, that wasn’t quite what she’d said. She had said that she didn’t mind if we went together. So now I had to convince him.
Now that I thought about it, I wondered if that was the explanation for Teresa’s odd reaction. Maybe Jason had told her something she hadn’t shared with me—like, that he couldn’t stand the sight of me and only tolerated my company for her sake. Actually, that wouldn’t be too surprising, considering that that was basically my reaction toward him.
But I wasn’t going to let a little thing like mutual dislike stop me. Not now, when I was so close to finally landing a decent-looking and reliable guy who definitely didn’t already have a date to this wedding.
I checked the time. It was a few minutes after nine, so I figured Jason would probably be up by now.
His house phone rang and rang, then went to the answering machine. I hung up without leaving a message and tried his cell. That rang once and then went to voice mail.
I hung up again without leaving a message. Maybe he was on the other line with Teresa right now. For a second I even dared to hope that she might do the hard part for me by telling him my plan.
Realizing that my stomach was growling—I’d rushed out of the house without breakfast—I decided to walk over to Lancaster Avenue and grab a muffin or something. After a couple of blocks I tried calling Jason’s cell again, with the same result.
“Come on!” I muttered, punching the button to end the call a little more violently than necessary. Now that I was this close, I just wanted to seal the deal so I could relax.
Well, maybe “relax” was too strong a word. I knew that the hours between now and the rehearsal dinner that evening would probably be filled with nonstop Camille-fueled craziness as the countdown to tomorrow kicked into overdrive. It would be nice to get this out of the way before that started.
I waited until after I’d reached the avenue and bought myself a cup of coffee and a blueberry muffin before trying again. Sitting down on the cement wall separating one parking lot from the next, I set my food beside me and then hit redial. Again the phone rang once and bounced to voice mail.
“Oh my God, where is he?” I cried as I hung up, attracting curious stares from a trio of preteen boys skateboarding nearby.
Teresa wasn’t much of a phone talker. I doubted she would be chatting with Jason for more than twenty minutes even on the verge of a monthlong separation. So maybe he wasn’t on the phone at all; maybe he’d turned it off.
I gulped down my coffee and muffin as I tried to decide what to do now. It was kind of ironic, really—for the past six months it had seemed I couldn’t turn around without finding Jason there smirking at me. I couldn’t get rid of the guy. And now that I actually wanted to see him for a change? Poof! He had disappeared.
His house was miles away, too far to walk. I considered hopping on the train or bus over there to see if he was still asleep, but I decided against it. With my luck, by the time I got there he would be gone.
Instead I figured I could check a few of his favorite local haunts. What else could I do?
He obviously hadn’t been in the coffee shop, so I walked down the block to a popular diner where I knew he went sometimes. The place was packed with people chowing down on scrambled eggs and bacon, but there was no sign of Jason.
I glanced across the street at Burrito Moe’s. Until this moment I hadn’t even realized it was open for breakfast—who eats tacos at that hour?—but there were a few cars in the parking lot. None of those cars was a blue Prius, but I still walked across and took a look inside. No Jason.
Finally I gave up, realizing I was just wasting time. I dialed his cell number again, and this time when the voice mail came on, I left a message.
“Hi, Jason,” I said. “It’s Ava. Listen, you know about my wedding-date issues, right? Well, I just had a thought. How would you like to be my date? Just friends and all that, of course—oh, and I checked with Teresa before she left, and she’s cool with it. So—what do you say? Feel like dressing up in a suit tomorrow, eating some fancy olives, and watching my relatives get drunk and do the chicken dance? Oh, and the rehearsal dinner is tonight, if you’re up for that too. Call me.”
I hung up, belatedly wondering if this whole plan had been an idiotic idea in the first place. Oh, well. It was too late now. All I could do was wait for him to get back to me.
I didn’t have long to wait. My phone rang when I was only halfway home. It was Jason.
“Hey,” he said. “It’s me.”
“Hi.” There was a lot of background noise on his end, and I had a little trouble hearing him. “Where are you?”
“Sea Isle City.”
My heart sank. “You mean you’re at the beach? I had no idea you were going down there this weekend.” So much for that plan!
“I wasn’t,” he replied. “I mean, I just came for the day. Sort of an impulse thing.”
“Oh.” My heart sort of paused on its downward plummet. “So, um, I guess you got my message? . . . “
“Uh-huh. I don’t think I’ll be back in time for the rehearsal dinner. But the wedding’s a go.”
“Really?” I sucked in my breath, hardly daring to believe there wasn’t a punchline coming. “So you’ll go with me?”
“Sure, what the heck.”
“Oh, that’s great! I was afraid at this point I’d be stuck going by myself since every guy on the East Coast already had a date, and then last night I realized, hey, I know one guy who doesn’t, and—”
“Yeah,” he interrupted. “Plus this way I actually get to see you with that pink dress all the way on instead of half over your head. Good times.” He chuckled. “Look, I’ve got to go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He hung up before I could answer. I stared at the phone, still a bit stunned. What had I just gotten myself into?
I felt anxious all the rest of that day and evening. It was a little awkward being at the rehearsal dinner dateless, having to explain my situation over and over again. The conversation usually went something like this:
Concerned-looking bridesmaid/relative/obscure-friend-of-Camille’s: Oh, Ava. He
re on your own, huh?
Me: Yep, my wedding date couldn’t make it tonight.
CLB/R/O-F-O-C’s (now with surprised look): Oh, so you do have a date, then?
Me (trying to head off any possible misunderstandings up front): Yes, I’m going with my friend Teresa’s boyfriend, Jason.
CLB/R/O-F-O-C’s: Oh! Your best friend’s boyfriend? That’s . . . very modern of you.
Me (trying not to sound defensive and/or pathetic): It’s no big deal. I just thought we’d have fun.
CLB/R/O-F-O-C’s: Wait, but I thought you were taking some super awesome mystery man?
Me (with forced chuckle): Oh, I was just kidding around about that. . . .
A few of the questioners also made dorky little jokes about me going with Jason, while others looked politely skeptical of the whole story. By the end of the evening I was wondering if it might have been easier just to hire a paid escort for the weekend. Why hadn’t I thought of that earlier? In any case I figured if people were that fascinated by the sister of the bride showing up alone to the rehearsal dinner, it was nothing compared to the embarrassment I would have suffered if I’d had to show up to the actual wedding all alone.
Even going with Jason was definitely better than that. Wasn’t it?
Sixteen
“Wow,” I said when I opened the door the next day to see Jason standing there. “You look great!”
“Thanks.” He did a little twirl on the front porch like a fashion model. “So do you. That dress isn’t anywhere near as bad as you keep saying it is.”
I wasn’t sure how much of a compliment that really was, but I smiled, glancing down briefly at the Pink Horror before averting my eyes from it once again. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” He grinned at me and straightened his tie.
I couldn’t believe the big day had arrived without some disaster befalling him: his car breaking down on the way home from the beach, a sudden onset of food poisoning from a bad oyster, getting struck by a meteor . . . With the way things had been going lately, I wouldn’t have been too surprised by any of them.
But here he was, looking rather disarm-ingly handsome in his dark suit and tie. “So am I supposed to wait out here on the porch until it’s time to leave, or what?” he said after a moment of me standing there staring at him.
“Oh! Sorry.” I blushed and stepped back. “Come on in. Things are a little crazy around here today.”
That was an understatement. We were all supposed to be over at the site for photos in less than an hour, and the kitchen table was littered with last-minute paperwork, the gifts weren’t packed up yet, and Camille’s hair was still in curlers. Fortunately, whatever weird mood Jason had been in the other day appeared to have passed, and he threw himself into helping with whatever needed doing. His constant jokes and goofy comments even helped distract Camille a little whenever she seemed on the verge of hyperventilating.
There were a few moments of weirdness, like when my grandparents came in while everyone except Camille was in the kitchen. “Hello, people!” my grandpa boomed, rushing over to give my mother a hug and my dad a big handshake. “What’s the word? Ava! My gorgeous granddaughter! So, when are you getting married?”
I smiled and hugged him. “Don’t hold your breath, Grandpa.”
He guffawed, then turned to smile at Jason. “And who have we here?”
“This is my, uh, date. Jason.” It felt strange to say that. But what the heck—it was true, right? I didn’t bother going into detail about Teresa and all the rest. It only would have confused him.
Almost before I knew it we were all walking into the estate gardens where the photographer was waiting for us. “Oh, my God,” Camille said as soon as we came within sight of the largest arbor. “Those roses are red! They totally clash with the dresses!”
“I told her not to do pink,” I muttered under my breath.
Mom, Dad, the photographer, and several other members of the wedding party all started talking at once. Then Jason stepped forward.
“Check it out.” He pointed across the gardens to a different, smaller arbor. “There’s a bunch of white roses. How about doing it over there?”
The photographer looked relieved. “Perfect!” she said. “Is that all right, Camille?”
Camille frowned, then shrugged. “I suppose so,” she said, smoothing out the fabric of her gown.
“Thanks,” I whispered to Jason as we all headed over. “That was a totally obvious solution. But knowing my family, we never would have noticed. At least not before Camille insisted on, like, someone painting all the red roses pink or something.”
He smiled. “I aim to please.”
Camille wanted photos of all of us with our dates even if they weren’t in the wedding party, and it felt a little bizarre to pose with Jason’s arm around me just like a real boyfriend or something. For a second I had this weird sort of parallel-world feeling about it. Then as the photographer finished setting up a shot of the two of us, Jason leaned a little closer.
“Uh-oh,” he whispered. “Your SpongeBobs are showing!”
Great. That was one photo that wouldn’t be making it to the wedding album. Not with me snarling like that.
“Let’s try this one again,” the photographer called tactfully. “Ready, guys? One, two, three . . .”
I gasped as Jason suddenly grabbed me around the waist and planted a big kiss on my cheek. “Hey!” I cried, just as I heard the camera click again. “What are you doing?”
He grinned. “Just getting into the spirit of the day.”
“Well, quit it!” I wasn’t sure whether I was more embarrassed about what Teresa would say when she saw that shot, or about how my heart had sort of thumped weirdly when he’d done it, almost as if he were a real guy and this were a real date.
I forgot about everything else for a while as we headed inside for the ceremony. Since Jason wasn’t in the wedding party, he went and sat down with some of the other bridesmaids’ dates while we did our thing. I was relieved to have him out of my hair for a while. He was turning out to be more distracting than I’d expected—sometimes in a good way, like when he was helping defuse a Camille meltdown, and sometimes in an oddly unsettling way, like with his antics during the photographs.
Despite Camille’s best efforts to find something wrong, the ceremony went off without a hitch. Actually, it was really nice. During the exchange of vows, when Camille and Boring Bob stood up there hand in hand, staring at each other as if they couldn’t get enough, I felt tears well up in my eyes. No matter how boring they might be, they were obviously head over heels gaga in love. I wondered if I would ever feel that strongly about anyone. In any case I was happy that my crazy sister had found the One. Even if that One happened to be Boring Bob.
Afterward, once the wedding party had processed back down the aisle, Camille found me in the hallway and gave me a hug. Her face was pink with joy and excitement. “Oh, Ava!” she exclaimed into my ear. “Wasn’t it amazing? Can you believe Bob and I are married?” She held out her ring and stared at it, as if it hadn’t quite sunk in.
“Congratulations, Camille,” I said with a smile.
“Thanks.” She sighed happily. “You know, I can’t believe I got so worked up about all the plans and details and everything. In the end, none of that stuff really mattered, you know? The only important thing was what just happened in there.”
I figured we’d see how true that was if the caterers overcooked the salmon or something. But I kept quiet and just smiled back at her. For now, at least, the sane Camille had returned.
“Anyway, I’m not sure why I let myself get so freaked out about it all,” Camille continued. “The point of the whole thing isn’t anything to do with the cake or the flowers or whatever. It’s that I get to spend the rest of my life with the guy who makes my heart go thumpity-thump every time he kisses me.” She beamed at me as if she’d just discovered the secret of life. Which, come to think of it, maybe she had. “I hope you find that
guy someday too, Ava.”
“Camille! Hey, where’s my wife?” Bob appeared in the doorway, his face bright red and plastered with a giddy grin. “Come on, it’s time for the receiving line.”
“Coming, hubby dear!” Camille giggled, then gathered up her skirts and took off.
Camille and Bob, the wedding party, and the various parents and siblings and such all lined up in the hallway between the ceremony room and the reception hall. A moment later the guests were released into the hallway. Jason almost immediately found me in the receiving line and inserted himself in beside me. “That was nice, wasn’t it?” he said. “I was glad to see you didn’t trip and flash your SpongeBobs at the audience, either.”
“I did my best. By the way, did anyone ever tell you it’s not normal to be obsessed with other people’s underwear?” I smiled and shook the hand of some friends of my parents who were making their way down the line. Jason reached out and did the same, jovially thanking them for coming.
“I’m not obsessed with other people’s underwear,” he said when they’d moved on. “Only yours. Hello!” he added as Mr. Baum and his wife reached us. “Thanks for being here! Wasn’t it a wonderful ceremony?”
I shot him a look when the Baums had moved on as well. “Technically, you’re not supposed to be part of the receiving line,” I reminded him.
He grinned. “But I’m so good at it!” He smiled at the next guest in line. “Thanks for coming. Great to see you!”
I rolled my eyes. What was the point in arguing?
My stomach grumbled a little, and I realized I’d barely eaten anything all day. I glanced down the line to see how many more people were left before we could go eat, and my heart stopped. Lance was making his way down the line—with Charlene clinging to his arm! Her hair was piled on top of her head, her makeup appeared to have been troweled on, and her low-cut red dress did nothing to disguise her most noticeable assets.
Jason must have heard me gasp, because he looked over. “Hey,” he said. “Isn’t that the jerk who dumped you? What’s he doing here?”
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