"Because I once showed up at his door to see you, and we locked ourselves in your room all night, and I left you alone on his dock like I'd never been there at all?"
"Locking ourselves in the room the year before might've been his first clue, but I assume your surprise reappearance answered any lingering questions."
Mateo pushes the cone toward me. It's a reminder that I should keep eating, even if the ice cream's in no danger of melting out here. He turns his attention back to the skaters. I give him time to sort out whatever he's feeling. Nothing has changed, but the crisp air is charged. I think we both know it wouldn't take much to set fire to the bridges we've crossed before we light our way forward.
"He hasn't outed you," he says. "Probably not even on a small scale, or you would've heard rumblings by now."
"What good would outing me do? He'd gain nothing from it."
"Do you think that's the reason he hasn't? Because he has nothing to gain?"
"No."
Mateo nods and takes my ice cream, sexier than he means to be when he licks it. "He'd potentially have things to lose. After working so closely with you for years, there'd be some scrutiny."
"Agreed. It would hurt him before it would help."
"But you don't think that's why he's staying quiet either."
"No," I say with a strange little sigh. "I think he might be looking out for me."
There's more to say about that—probably a lot more—but my phone vibrates against my ass. I reach for it, half expecting it to be Taylor. It's not. It's Harper, and the call makes me nervous because she's supposed to be busy skiing with Simon. She and I aren't supposed to talk until tomorrow.
I let Mateo keep the cone while I drag him away from the crowd and swipe to answer. "Hey, pixie, is everything okay?"
"Yes, yes, sorry, are you—it's loud there. Are you outside? Is Mateo there? I didn't think you had any big plans. Am I interrupting something? I just had to call because—" Harper pauses for a breath. It helps give me just enough time to pull Mateo into the only empty space in all of New York City. "Okay, sorry again, Simon is staring at me. Is Mateo there? Can you put me on speaker, or are you, like, in a restaurant or something?"
"No, I—he's here. And it's fine." I'm not sure it is yet. I wouldn't usually put anyone on speaker in public, but chaos continues around us, and I want to know why she's calling. Mateo is already waiting impatiently, his anxiety fed by mine. "Okay, go ahead."
Harper has said a million words since I answered, but I swear she quiets now, just because she can. I want to blame her mother for the dramatic effect. Mateo's glare suggests he's prepared to blame me. Then I hear a voice mumble something just before she squeals.
"Simon and I are getting married!"
Chapter Twenty: Mateo
(I Was Surprised by the Invitation)
Mr. Mateo Zavala.
I hold the envelope in my hand and arc my thumb over my name for the hundredth time, noting—also for the hundredth time—that it'sonlymy name. The wedding invitation wasn't addressed toMr. Mateo Zavala and Guest. It's almost as if Harper and Simon know there's no Logan, or anyone else like him, in my life anymore. They haven't drawn the outline of some hypothetical man I might want to bring as my date, and there's no suggestion that I should bring Sophie along, even though she'd also taught Harper many years ago. I've been invited, very cordially, but I've been invited alone, because it's the closest they can get to making me someone else's plus one.
Jamie and I got the call about Harper and Simon's engagement about eight months ago, and the time since has been full of phone calls, video chats, one quick visit, and the same hope I carried for years before it got too heavy. I'm waiting again, and I love him too much to want to stop, but I can't pretend the ache in my shoulders isn't returning under the weight of something familiar. Maybe it'stime for me to break more rules. Maybe I could do it for more than the one night I once suggested. Maybe I could do it without being as angry as I was at the lake.
Maybe I could do it forever.
It's been over a year since I last saw Logan, but I think of him as I leave the empty envelope on my dresser and return to the bathroom to finish getting ready. It would've been so easy, having a real relationship with him. He was silly and sweet and smart. Everything about our time together was simple, and the sex was wonderful. My family loved him, and I could've.
But Logan and I had both known it was over by the time I put Jamie on a plane. I suppose we had both known it was over the night I walked out of his bedroom. And really, there shouldn't have been anything requiring an official goodbye when he'd been aware all along that I was using him, but he was eager to let me hurt him one more time. We'd gathered up the traces of each other left behind on too many mornings after, and we'd slept together for something like old times' sake. Strangely enough, it had been one of the best nights of my life, but now I shake my head at my reflection, wrap my tie around my neck, and forget.
Mr. Mateo Zavala, sans guest, has a wedding to attend.
The venue is probably 30 to 40 minutes away, Harper and Simon picking an oceanside hotel halfway between where they live now and where she grew up. I'd met the groom about a month ago, when they'd taken me out to lunch between wedding errands, and it had overwhelmed me to remember the ambitious 14-year-old who'd once introduced herself from the front row of my honors English class. She's 23 now, and just as ambitious, and if I'm this proud of her today, Jamie must be ecstatic.
Actually, I know he is because he hasn't stopped texting me since he landed in California yesterday morning. We haven't seen eachother yet—he's been busy with father-of-the-bride duties, and I've been busy pacing Sophie's apartment—but he sent me pictures from last night's rehearsal dinner. His smile was magnificent in every one of them. I hate that he's expected back in New Jersey tomorrow when I have so many things to say.
I'm ready to go. My tie is tied and my hair is pulled into a perfect ponytail, and I will carry my suit jacket with me until I've arrived at the hotel. I have a duffel bag and a wedding gift with me too, and I set them on the back seat before I take a deep breath and prepare for a night I've been looking forward to, and maybe fearing, for months. Once I'm parked and as put together as possible, I head inside to check in, greeted first by a gorgeous flower and balloon arrangement pointing me toward the ceremony. It's all so real, and I think I say something stupid about it to the clerk who's just trying to give me a room key. I gather myself somewhere between the front desk and the elevator, and I'm mostly fine once I'm alone in my room for a few minutes. Then my phone vibrates and I have no idea how I'm doing.
Let me know when you get here and I'll meet you in the lobby