Page 44 of How to Ruin a Wedding

I laugh. “Oh, she’s so far gone.”

“If”—he points a finger right at my nose—“you end up on some drunken excursion again, you call me. Okay?”

I press the tip of my finger to his. “Okay.”

He leans his head back and takes a deep breath. “It is a nice night.”

Nice enough that he pulls up the sleeves of his black top, and I know I should tear my gaze away a moment after I catch it snagging on the veins wrapped around his arms like knotted rope.

“She invited us on a double date,” I say, since business is the only reason I’m here. “It’s progress. And I think she likes me, but she’s a little bit suspicious of me too. She doesn’t know exactly why, but she knows I don’t exactly fit with you.”

“Says who?” Anders frowns.

I decide, right now, that every time Anders gives me a round of butterflies, I have to deflect and move on quickly. He sends them fluttering in the pit of my stomach too easily for me to maintain focus. Better to just breeze past every moment.

“We’re going to some billiards place tomorrow. I didn’t get much of a feel for John when he came to get Valerie—it was too quick—but I’d like to speak to him more when we meet.” I lean in. “Would you make your girlfriend share her location with you?”

“Is she going on a trip?”

“No, just in general. To keep an eye on her.”

“Well.” He scratches his neck. “I’m not sure. I wouldn’t think to ask for that unless I was worried she was going places she shouldn’t be. And if I didn’t trust her, I’d probably just want to separate before doing that.”

Humming, I turn from him and face the moonlight. “I get that.”

It takes a couple of extra seconds to pull up the sober parts of the day. “Do you know Nick?”

His eyes widen a fraction before returning to normal. “She told you about him?”

“Not really, no,” I say, an idea playing in the back of my head—but I’m not able to pull it into a coherent thought yet. “She just brought him up, which I thought was a little strange, seeing as we were searching for her wedding venue.”

I refrain from mentioning that it was her and Nick’s first date or the initial moment she believed in the authenticity of love. I owe Anders a lot, but I also owe Valerie some respect—it’s girl code.

It doesn’t feel right sharing more intimate secrets she may want kept closer to her chest. I’m already planning to ruin her marriage; I don’t need things getting out that could maximize the hurt she’ll feel when it all falls through.

“This is what I meant,” he says softly. “Valerie is all over the place. And wherever she decides to land—even if she knows it’ll hurt—she latches herself to it anyway. After Nick ...” He cuts himself off, then restarts. “That was a dark time for her. Maybe the worst. I’ve never known anyone more careless with their own heart.”

“Do you think Valerie does love these men? John, and Nick, and anyone else? Or do you think she doesn’t understand it?”

He opens his mouth, then shuts it. “I’m not exactly sure.”

Then, after a few moments, he adds, “Did you love them? Your ex-husbands?”

I hold a hand to my chest like he landed a direct hit. “Thanks for the reminder of my two failed marriages.”

“Sorry—”

“I’m kidding.” I nudge him. “And sometimes I think, of course not, and other times I think, I must have.” I shake my head. That doesn’t make any sense. “You know what I think?”

“What do you think, Lucinda?” he asks, and the way he says my name disregards any vow I just made to keep from longing over him.

I peel my gaze from him. “I think people makeloveout to be this scary and weighted word—and sure, it can be—but love comes in many forms. It can be this lighthearted feeling, this sense of true contentment, like sitting out and basking in the sun for hours and listening to the sky breathe. It can be as small as the act of letting a bug out the slider door rather than killing it. It can be weighted and filled with baggage, but still feel warm—like loving people who hurt you as much as they make you laugh. And it can be this all-consuming desire to care for another person.”

“So.” I slap my hands on my knees. “Maybe Valerie does love John, and I loved my men, and love isn’t so hard to feel as people make it outto be. But some people don’t deserve that love, and sometimes it isn’t enough to keep two people together—when so many people get away with hurting others because they know that love can save them. How horrible is it to keep hurting someone and let love be your shield from accountability for it?”

When he doesn’t speak, the tips of my ears warm.

“I’m rambling now. Sorry. I don’t mean to project. I’m not making much sense.”