You May Kiss the Bridesmaid - Camilla Isley Page 0,49

right now. Wobbly doesn’t begin to cover it.

He rises a bent elbow, offering it to me. “Shall we?”

I nod, link our arms, and follow him inside the brewery.

The visit, and the two pints of beer, relax the tension between us. But at lunch, Archie spaces out again. As if his mind was a million miles away from our conversation. That’s when there’s any talking happening at all. At times, silences stretch for longer than I’m comfortable with, and whenever I ask him questions, most of Archie’s answers are short and of the yes or no kind. And he never asks me anything.

Once we’ve made our order—we’re in a French bistro in Yountville—I can’t take the weirdness any longer and finally ask, “Are you sure you’re okay? Did something my sister tell you freak you out?”

Archie stares at me. And his gaze is present and not the least detached when he asks, “Did you really freeze your eggs?”

Seventeen

Summer

I’m going to kill my sister. Strangle her. Drown her in confetti.

I want the ground to open and swallow me whole. Or, better, I want a meteor to fall from the sky and obliterate us. I wish lightning would strike our table, even if we’re sitting under a porch and it’s not even raining. Or for the San Andreas fault to finally get a move on and bring The Big One. Because anything, anything would be better than having to answer this question.

I cover my face with my hands and peek at him from between my fingers. “I can’t believe she told you that.”

Archie makes a cute frown, a cross of amused and embarrassed. Then he reaches for my hands and gently lowers them to the table. “Why? It isn’t a bad thing.”

“It’s very personal,” I say. “Why did you bring it up?”

Archie sighs. “These last few days… we had fun, didn’t we?”

Fun isn’t supposed to be a negative word, but I’m seriously starting to despise it. What does fun mean in his head? The constant uncertainty makes me snap, “Yeah, a blast. Only two days left; we’d better enjoy ourselves.”

I take a long sip of wine.

“That’s not what I meant,” Archie says. I can tell he’s struggling to find the right words. “What I wanted to say is that I enjoyed being with you…” Loaded pause. “Honestly, more than I enjoyed being with anyone else in the past.” I hate my heart for the leap it does in my chest. “And I was wondering if we could… maybe… uhm… see each other even after the wedding is over.” My treacherous heart keeps soaring into the air. “But then your sister…”

My heart is at that point in mid-air where it has to come down from its jump, and Archie’s last comment makes it lose focus and balance, and the poor organ ends up going down in an uncontrolled fall until it splatters on the floor of my rib cage.

“But then my sister brought frozen eggs into the picture, and it all became a bit much?” I suggest.

“Yeah, I mean, no. Not exactly. What do the frozen eggs mean? If it’s okay for me to ask. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

Too late for that. My sister showed all my cards, so I might as well play my hand. “I won’t go into technical details,” I say, trying to lighten the mood. “But the gist of it is that after thirty-five a woman’s fertility drops—”

An embarrassed cough behind me makes me stop. A server is hovering next to our table with two plates in his hands. I lean back in my chair and give him space to set the appetizers down. He does, and once he’s at a safe distance, I don’t even pretend I’m interested in my food.

“In short,” I continue, “I’m cheating biology to give myself more time to have kids.”

“More time.” Archie looks like he’s digesting this information. He picks up his fork and moves Brussels sprouts around on his plate. “But you definitely want kids?”

“Not tomorrow, but one day, yeah, I want to have kids.”

“And to get married.”

Gosh, my sister really put the heavy load on him.

“Yes,” I say, working hard not to grit my teeth. He’s making marriage and kids sound like dirty words or something. “If I were in a relationship, it would have to be with someone who’s on the same page about having a family, eventually. I’m in no rush, but that’s the end goal for me.”

Archie looks up at me, a death