Leveling Up
:: the process of determining a connection of one, relative to another
Josh
Saturday, May 27th, 7:32 am
Shark Lane, Corova, North Carolina
Nate jabs me. “I almost had him, J! Did you see that? The fucker was huge.”
“Whatever dude.” Nate’s almost hooked about ten redfish since sunrise. All record size, according to him. I have yet to see one. “I’m not getting anything. You ready to split? The sun’s killing my eyes.”
“Yeah, yeah, in a minute,” he calls, grabbing more bait for the line.
We’re surf casting in Corova, north of Corolla, close to the Virginia line. It’s pretty remote out here. Nate boasted for weeks what an ideal location it is, but I’m not so sure. He claims his dad once hooked a sixty-pound drum right here in front of Shark Lane. It’s all sand, who knew there were even roads?
And who remembers shit like that?
I grab a Coke from the cooler and check my phone for the hundredth time.
Nothing.
It’s early though, and David won’t be awake, not after last night. My chest tightens. Isaac, the little weed whacker, I cannot believe—
“JJ, get over here!”
I heave a sigh and wander over to where Nate pulls on a taught line.
“It’s a big one!’ he shouts. “Holy shit, he won’t stop running!”
I feel a surge of excitement. This is the most action we’ve seen all morning. In my periphery, I notice a man with a dog approach from the dunes behind us. He and I watch Nate wrestle the thing.
“Dude! He’s still biting!” Nate laughs. “Film this, J, where’s your phone?”
I grab it from the Jeep and start recording as he reels the fish in. The man, now by his side, nods appreciatively.
“That’s a big ass redfish,” Nate calls excitedly. “I told you, didn’t I? Shark Lane! That’s the spot!” He turns to the man. “He never believes me.”
Nate hauls the thing out. It’s no sixty-pounder, but impressive, nonetheless.
“Nice catch, son,” the man says. “Best I’ve seen this week.”
That voice.
Stunned, I look up from my phone, video still rolling. I edge closer as the two of them chat. That voice. There’s something about him. The man glances back, and I get a clear view of his face. And, oh my God. He looks just like David! What the fuck?
“You’re still filming,” he says.
I almost drop my phone.
He straightens and clears his throat, a rather odd expression on his face. “Gillie!” he calls, turning quickly toward the dunes. A large yellow lab bounds toward him. “Good day, boys,” he says, as the two make a hasty retreat.
Nate and I exchange a glance, and I know he’s seen it too.
“Wait!” I call after him. “Do you live out here? What’s your name?”
Nate gives me a quizzical look as the man turns back. He stares at me, only a few yards away. It’s uncanny, the resemblance. He’s taller than David, older and lankier, too. But those eyes, his skin, even the way he moves. And his worn tee shirt, I almost can’t read it. Nothing gold can stay, I think it says.
Why is that familiar?
But before it comes to me, he’s disappeared.
Nate talks boisterously as we load the jeep.
“You gotta forward that video,” he reminds me. “I want my dad to see it.”
I feel a pang of envy, knowing the close relationship they share. I’ll never have that. At least David has Bennett. Or had him. I don’t care what he said Friday, I saw his expression that day after softball. Bet he’s not so keen on me coaching basketball now. And he doesn’t even know the half of it. Plus, there’s the whole uncomfortable bed situation he observed in our room. I wonder if he asked David about that.
David.
I swallow. “That guy back there.”
Nate nods. “Yeah, weird right? Is it me, or was he like a dead ringer for Brennan? Dude could be his dad or something.”
My thoughts exactly. “Think he lives out there?”
Nate shrugs. “Maybe. My dad loves it. There’s like a whole community. Lots of fisherman. I think I’d go crazy off the grid like that.”
He rattles on while I drive, lost in thought as we navigate the well-worn path along the sand.
“It had to be hard,” Nate says.
“What?” I’m not paying attention.
“David, losing his dad, in the fire. Losing everything all at once.” He makes a poof sound and throws his hands up like flames. “They never figured out what happened, did they?”
I bite the inside of my cheek. “It was an accident,” I say in a tight voice. “Some kind of electrical problem.”
He nods, oblivious to my discomfort. “Hey, whatever happened to his mom, anyway? How’d she die? He never talks about it.”
He never talks about it.
This phrase triggers a memory so vivid I have to squeeze my eyes shut to subdue it. I slam on the brakes, and we fishtail. Nate pulls at the grab handle to keep from slamming into the window.
“Pothole,” I manage, and he gives a short laugh. I pull over and take several deep breaths, trying desperately to pull my focus out of the past.
Because all I see is Ian…
Frantic and disheveled, bursting into my childhood living room, hollering for Nick.
You killed her, he shouted as my father approached. You and your fucking lies! We never should’ve involved her. Their loud, angry voices rang through the house as Vivian hurriedly shuttled Kate and I upstairs. Late into the night, muffled sounds from the study. Nick’s placating murmurs, Ian’s anguished cries.
They can’t be dead, he’d repeated, over and over.
At six, I’d known of Ian. I recognized him from pictures I found hidden away at my grandfather’s house. Vivian tore them from my hand when I showed her.
Your father’s friend, she’d said. They had a big fight and aren’t friends anymore.
I’d pressed for details, but she shrugged. He never talks about it, she said.
He never talks about it.
Only, months later that same man burst into our home, distraught and unwelcome. He was gone by morning, with no explanation, like it never happened. I didn’t see him again until the day he and David moved to Maryland…
“So, his mom?” Nate says.
I wipe beads of sweat from my brow and pull the Jeep back onto the path. How have I suppressed that for so long? I wonder if Kate remembers. And why was Ian so upset with Nick?
Nate stares at me, expectant. “Sorry,” I say, shaking my head to jog it back. “It was a car accident. Killed both his mom and sister when he was six.”
But Nick wasn’t responsible for Elena’s accident, was he? And what had they involved her in? Did she know about the cover up? About Kate and I?
He shakes his head, looking solemn. “Man, that sucks.” But this is Nate, and he has the empathy of a gnat. Seconds later he’s cracking up. “Did you hear him with Isaac’s girl, Monique, at the bonfire last night? Holy shit, that was a trip. Man, I miss you guys. Can’t you sell that shithole in the city and move back to OC with us?”
I roll my eyes. Nate and Isaac party way too much, and David is like a different person around them, clearly. Drugs and alcohol bring out the worst in him. He’s not exactly a happy drunk. Angry, maybe. Aggressive. Definitely reckless.
“Sure,” I tell him. “Then you can fish his ass out of the ocean at three in the morning instead of me.”
“Oh, right. I forgot about that.” He laughs. “Never mind. I don’t miss him that much.”
“Fucking Isaac,” I mutter.
“Yeah,” he agrees, yawning. “He’s got issues.”
“And stay away from Kate this weekend,” I say, irritated by his flip response. “Don’t even look at her.”
He lifts his hands with mock innocence. “Relax. Kristen’s here. Alone. I’m tryin’ to win her back.” Then his nose wrinkles. “Besides, have you seen Kate’s lips? I’m gonna be looking at anything but her face.”
And I can’t help it. I burst out laughing.
We joke around for the remainder of the ride, and I vow to put the past, and David and his aged doppelgänger, out of my head. Joyful Josh is making a comeback. And by the time we arrive at the house, I’ve got my own little high going, a caffeine-sugar one—we stopped at Duck Donuts. It’s a relief to see most of the partiers from last night either sleeping or already out for the day. Kate is nowhere to be seen.
I text her.
Me: Sleeping?
Kate: Shopping with Hads and Kristen
Kristen, huh? I wonder if Kate knows she and Nate might be getting back together.
Me: You gonna tell her about hooking up?
Her response is a middle finger emoji. Guessing that’s a no.
Me: Spirited, I like that.
Kate: Snag any fish?
My mind shifts back to the man on the beach. Should I mention him? Seems kind of ridiculous now. I don’t know. Maybe I’ll show her the video later.
Me: Seaweed, no fish. Nate had a catch. Remind me to show you something later.
Kate: Sure thing.
Me: Sexy lips?
Kate: Shrunk.
This is accompanied by a selfie of her lips looking slightly red, but normal in size. She also captured a good amount of cleavage, unintentionally, I’m sure. But I can’t help myself.
Me: Sweet boob shot
I’m about to fire off a sike, just kidding, because I AM, when she responds.
Kate: Whatever J. Go find David.
10:45 am
Lighthouse Drive, Corolla, North Carolina
So, that pretty much put an end to Joyful Josh.
I eventually do find David though, sound asleep on a padded, double-sized lounger by the pool. Wearing my shirt, no less, and underwear, with mismatched socks. It’s quite a display.
I stretch out beside him and squint up at the sun, forcing myself not to look his way. Something about the sight of him in my clothes arouses feelings I’d rather not deal with—feelings Kate has obviously honed in on. Heat creeps into my face, and it’s not from the sun. Her little jabs the last few weeks have all been pointing toward one uncomfortable truth.
She knows about him and I. And I’m guessing they’ve talked about it. I elbow him.
“Quit faking, Harry Pott-head. I can tell you’re awake from the way you’re breathing.”
He turns to face me, eyes still closed. “You smell like fish,” he says, “and coffee. Did you bring me some?”
I ignore this request. “Well, you smell like Isaac. And in my favorite shirt too, you fucking burn-out wannabe. What? Couldn’t soil your own clothes?”
He squirms. “Yeah, what’s up with your shorts, anyway? They keep riding up.”
“That’s because you’re wearing my underwear, you idiot.”
He inspects himself, sits up to tug off the socks, and looks at me with a wide-eyed, sheepish grin. It takes every ounce of willpower not to touch him. I’m so relieved he’s back to himself, I want to curl around his body and sleep beneath the sun until this miserable weekend is over. Only, I’m supposed to be angry.
Yes! Anger. Run with that.
“What are you, still high or something?” I grumble.
“Yeah, maybe.” He picks absently at bits of fuzz on my sweatshirt. “I’m having trouble piecing last night together.”
Shocker.
“That’s a shame. You were quite the hit.”
He regards me cautiously. “I may have said some things.”
No, really? You think?
I flash back to our exchange in the kitchen, to his taunts at the beach, and his anger with me in the bedroom. He rarely ever gets high, and I hate it. Not without good reason. But my mind is a jumbled flurry and holding onto anger feels like an insurmountable task. Besides, I’m stupidly turned on right now.
I attempt a smile. “Forget about it,” I say, tousling his curls before I can stop myself. His hair is sun-warmed and soft as silk. It feels inexplicably good beneath my fingers.
“I really am sorry, Josh,” he says, moving closer. I can’t take it.
“D, if you don’t scoot back, something incredibly dirty and entirely regrettable is going to happen on this lounge chair. I’m not even kidding.”
The surprise on his face almost makes this whole trip worth it. And suddenly we’re laughing so hard tears are rolling down our cheeks. For one blissful moment, the mess fades, and it’s just him and me, alone and joking like the boys we used to be. I feel a paralyzing surge of love for him. I should say it. I never say it.
I rest my head on his shoulder instead. “You’re a shitty-ass kickball player, David. If I’d only known…”
He plants a gentle kiss on the top of my head. “I love you, too, Joshua.”
And we stay like that, quiet and huddled together until several girls from the house emerge with towels and sunscreen in hand. They’re loud and annoying and, despite the fact they’re all here with dates, flirt shamelessly with him. I doubt he remembers, but Isaac’s date, Monique, was practically throwing herself at him last night. He kept calling her Kate and asking to see her peaches, which honestly was hilarious.
The sweetness of her lusting after him is almost enough to put Isaac back in my good graces. And it’s enough to send us back to the house because she keeps hounding him to rub her with sunscreen and it gets awkward.
Oh, to be him for a day.
Only not this day, because he’s cranky and hungover, and miraculously receptive to my suggestion of a nap. Okay, so I mother him, but old habits die hard.
Anyway, I wander out to the beach with a few of the guys and we get a game of Kan Jam going. The female shopping contingent eventually returns. And Kate, much to my horror, shows up sporting a bikini that covers almost nothing. It’s like strands of angel hair pasta connecting a few well-placed meatballs. Objectively, she looks killer in it, but I’m not having her parade around like some naked Tour of Italy for these losers to feast on.
I shoot Nate a meaningful look and jog over to her.
“Don’t say it,” she snaps before I can open my mouth.
“Oh my God, Josh. You’re like, so overprotective,” Kristen whines. “She looks hot.”
Hadley smirks. “If I had Kate’s body, I wouldn’t even wear a suit.”
She probably wants me to say something nice about her body, since I’ve seen most of it. But I’m not touching that with a ten-foot pole. I turn to Kate and hand her a towel.
“Cover those peaches, blondie,” I say, ignoring the girls. “This ain’t no bikini barista stand.” I nod up the beach. “Come on, let’s take a walk.”
Kate grudgingly obliges, covering herself toga-style with the towel before following me down to the shore.
I wait until we’re a good distance away before saying anything.
“All right, what gives? I know you didn’t pick that suit out.”
She groans. “They kept hounding me at the store. Hadley wouldn’t shut up until I bought it.”
“You can’t let them bully you,” I lecture, feeling like we’re back in high school again. “They’re just jealous cause you’re smoking hot and they’re…” I search for the right words to highlight their imperfections. “Well, Hadley is all right, but her teeth are crooked, and she talks too much. And Kristen has cankles.”
Kate almost chokes with laughter. “Cankles?”
I nod. “Like bologna stuffed in a shoe.”
She punches me. “That’s awful, J!”
“That’s awful? You messed around with her boyfriend!”
“Ex-boyfriend,” she reminds me. “And stop talking about it. She doesn’t know, and I want to keep it that way.”
“Good luck with that,” I snort.
She cuts me a look. “Shall we talk about Hadley?”
Ugh.
“Fair enough,” I say, and let the subject drop.
We walk along quietly for a few minutes. There aren’t many people on the beach. Eventually our eyes fix on a lone figure near the dunes reclining in a chair.
“Stalker?” I suggest, only partly joking.
She makes a face, then looks out at some distant point on the horizon. “How are you doing after last night?”
“Last night?”
“I heard about you and David in the kitchen. I know how he gets.”
I don’t want to think about last night. “We’re fine,” I tell her. “He apologized.”
“Well, that’s good. Since we’re talking about David, though…”
Here it comes.
“I’m sorry about that text from earlier.” She swallows and I feel myself growing warm.
Might as well get this over with.
“You were awake, weren’t you? The other week, on the couch with us.”
She nods.
“And I take it he knows?”
“We’ve talked about it,” she says, and stops walking. She turns to face the ocean.
“What does that mean, Kate? You talked about it.” I can’t read her expression.
“It means he loves you,” she blurts, turning suddenly. There are tears in her eyes. “Like, really loves you. So much more than you know.”
Okay. Wasn’t expecting that. I mean, I know David loves me. But hearing Kate say it with such fervor?
Warmth envelopes me like a blanket, and I can’t hide the flush of pleasure that springs onto my face. “I love him, too,” I admit. “Probably more than I should. More than I ever wanted to, Kate. I’m so sorry. We should’ve told you a long time ago. It’s just…hard,” I finish, lamely.
She pulls the towel around her body, hugging it close. Her toes dig in the sand. “He explained things,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “You know, like, past things.”
Past things? I can feel my heart thumping. The edge of my periphery begins to fray.
“What do you mean, past things? What exactly did he tell you?”
But the knowledge is evident on her face. My heart folds in on itself.
He wouldn’t.
“Not details,” she says quickly. “Just enough so I’d, you know…understand.” She shakes her head. “I don’t want to know any more than you want to tell me. Some things better left unsaid, and all.”
We could fill volumes with the things left unsaid. I stare at the sand wishing it would swallow me. “He shouldn’t have said anything. We promised not to—”
“No, Josh. Really, it’s okay. I’m glad we’re finally getting things out in the open. Besides, I knew back then. I mean, I didn’t know, exactly, but I could tell something awful was going on.” A tear slides down her cheek. “You guys always came home distant and wrecked. I had no idea you were so—”
“Fucked in the head?” I offer, stumbling a little as I take a step toward her. I’m dizzy.
“Don’t say stuff like that. I’m serious.”
Yeah. So am I.
I want to tell her to stop talking about it, but my mouth won’t seem to form the words.
“He said they threatened you guys, threatened to use me if you didn’t cooperate.” She stifles a sob and reaches for me, pulling us down to the sand in a heap. “You always protected me, Josh. Even when I didn’t know. You and David both.”
Me and David.
Details from those weekends come back with excruciating clarity. The long car rides, David and I in the backseat playing video games, reading, trading riddles to pass the time. Late nights, new cities, strange motel rooms. And the men.
My vision narrows, and the ocean breeze fades. All I see is David. Alone and waiting, terrified while I looked on, helpless. Kate wasn’t the only one I tried to protect. Tried, and failed.
If I hadn’t been such a fucking coward…
“Kate,” I wheeze, my lungs constricting. I can’t swallow past the blade lodged in my throat. “Kate, I can’t…”
But it’s too late.
I collapse on the sand, gasping for breath, barely aware of her arms around me holding tight. She’s crying, but I’m too wrecked to console her. I bury my head in her lap, trembling, drinking her in. She smells of sea water and sunscreen—scents as familiar as childhood.
Our childhood.
How I loved her, still love her. The ease of her laughter, her endless chatter, the way her heart bleeds through to her sleeve. Even Nick with his angry hands and harsh words couldn’t dampen her spirit. Or so I thought until that awful January day. Her lifeless body on the floor. A bottle of pills spilled on the nightstand.
Turns out I couldn’t protect her any more than David.
Sobs wrack my body and, shuddering, I surrender, too weak to fight. I invite the memories in like unwanted guests—penance for my failure. And I don’t even know how much time passes, but I’m soaked in sweat and clutching Kate when I return to myself.
I sit up shakily and glance around, exhausted. Surely no more than a few minutes have passed, but it feels like hours. I notice the man, still seated by the dunes. “Definitely the stalker,” I wheeze, trying to lighten the mood.
“We better hope not.” She gently wipes my face with her towel. “Oh, Josh,” she sighs, hugging me. “What do we do now?”
I take a deep breath and let the salt air flood my lungs. I’m not sure how, but it’s almost cleansing. Like a weight being lifted from my chest. I run fingers through her curls feeling…lighter. It’s oddly cathartic, facing the worst version of yourself.
I offer Kate a shaky smile. “Let’s start by getting you another suit,” I say, wrapping the towel back around her. “Preferably a one piece. With a high neck and built-in granny skirt.”
This produces a thin smile, and she stands up, offering me a hand. We make our way slowly back up the beach, neither of us talking.
“Are you okay?” she finally asks.
“Peachy,” I say, and she giggles.
Her fingers lace through mine. “Peanut butter,” she says, and gently squeezes.
Ten years ago, I’d have promptly replied, and jelly. Our childish code language for expressing love. But what I feel for her runs deeper than love, deeper than silly codes and games. I pull her close.
“I love you too, Kate,” I whisper into her hair. “Way more than peanut butter and jelly.”
And I hold onto her until the house comes into view, Nick and our stalker be damned.
“Hey, what was it you wanted to show me?” she asks. “Remember you said in your text?”
I reach for my phone but think better of it. I’m done visiting the past.
“Portland,” I tell her. “I found us a place to rent in Portland.”
5:35 pm
The Currituck Club, Corolla, North Carolina
I am in misery.
M-I-S-E-R-Y.
Cramped pavilion? Check.
Uncomfortable folding chair? Check.
Suffocating crowd of people I neither like nor care about? Double check.
Hadley elbows me, and I rise along with the crowd for Isabelle’s grand entrance.
God, I hate weddings.
How did I let Kate and David talk me into this? I glance at Hadley, whose eyes are trained on the make-shift aisle, tears already beginning to pool. She’s got her hair up in some kind of twisty bun thing, and part of her scalp is showing. Like, a lot. It’s very white against the black of her hair, and kind of distracting, honestly. I can’t stop staring.
And her dress! Way too tight. Don’t girls give each other advice about those things? Like, I wouldn’t let David leave the house with, I don’t know, stains on his shirt or something. And I’m always on Kate about her clothes. Leave something to the imagination, for crying out loud.
I steal a glance at the two of them, David and Kate. Close together several rows ahead of Hadley and I, both their eyes focused on the aisle expectantly. Despite all the other emotion, I feel a surge of pride. They are, undoubtedly, the two most beautiful people at this wedding.
It should probably give me pause, how I find them both irresistible. It’s him I want, though, him I’ve always wanted. Since the moment he walked into our backyard. It’s taken a long time for me to accept that, and I’m not sure what it says about me. Or him. Or us, if there even is an us. But what the hell does it matter, anyway? Why does love need a label? The heart wants what the heart wants, right? Didn’t Emily Dickinson say that? Kate would know.
I watch her tap his shoulder and whisper something. He grins and leans into her, and I wonder with longing what they’re talking about. She rests her head on his back with a mysterious smile and wraps her arms around his waist. My heart swells at the sight of her obvious joy, being here with him.
He must sense my gaze, because he turns, and our eyes meet…
I was a wreck when Kate and I returned from our walk. Thankfully, the chaos of wedding preparation had begun so no one noticed. Except David. He was waiting when I got out of the shower.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, leaning against the sink as I shaved.
I’d vowed not to mention the day’s events. Only, I have the emotional maturity of a toddler, and he reads me like a psychic, so hiding anything is an exercise in futility. But when I tried, the words wouldn’t come.
My hand shook so hard I dropped the razor. And he said nothing, just picked it up and began where I left off. I’d closed my eyes, memorizing the way his hands skimmed my face, wishing time could stand still.
And damn if he didn’t do a better job than I ever would, with a busted arm, no less. We’d stared at each other in the mirror.
“What, you’re ambidextrous now?” I muttered.
“Comes in handy,” he said, all soft-eyed and innocent. Only his look was anything but. I gripped the sink to keep from taking him right there as thoughts of Kate crowded in. Her thin arms wrapped around me on the beach. The pain we’re causing her…
Hadley elbows me again, jerking me out of my seat and into the mass exodus of wedding guests. I try to regain focus as she pulls me toward the reception, but I can’t shake the feeling of doom. And the beers I chugged before leaving aren’t helping. I’m starving and lightheaded, and it feels like we’re in the midst of hungry cattle being herded toward a feeding trough.
Ahead of us, inside the entrance stands Isabelle and her geeky husband, Dean, surrounded by an adoring throng of attendants. Hadley grabs my hand.
“Isabelle looks so pretty! Don’t you think, Josh?”
I cast around for escape and spot Kate and David. My relief is palpable. I hold Hadley back until they reach us.
“I cannot believe I let you two talk me into this,” I grumble.
Kate makes a face and yanks off one of her heels. “My feet are killing me!”
I nudge him. “See, Kate’s in misery too.”
“Could someone shove a sock in his mouth or something?” Hadley groans. “Seriously Josh, you are the worst wedding date.” She drops my hand and grabs Kate’s. “Come on,” she says, tugging her up the line toward Isabelle.
David stares after them with his usual amusement, and I wish for the millionth time I had his view on life.
But I don’t.
“I sense pending doom,” I tell him.
He pats my stomach. “You’re just hungry,” he says.
I glare at him. “Yeah, because I’m sure that’s it.”
He gives me an admonishing look, and we shuffle down the cramped walkway with the other guests vying for their moment with the bride. Or, more likely, a spot in line at the cash bar twenty feet beyond her. I stand closer than necessary. Close enough to breathe in his clean, soapy scent, to notice the tiny freckle on his ear, the wave like curl of his lashes, and the impossibly straight bridge of his nose, which is as perfect and appealing as the rest of him. Even his breath smells good, like cool, minty sweetness. Mine probably reeks of beer and anxiety.
But if my obsessive proximity bothers him, it doesn’t show. He stands in front of me, arms crossed, calmly surveying the crowd. I wrap a finger around his belt loop and pull gently, wondering if I’ll ever feel close enough. My stomach pangs with hunger, and longing, and that all-consuming emptiness only he’s able to fill. I want to rest my head on his back, like Kate did.
So tired.
He nudges me and I look up.
Isabelle.
She’s hugging Kate and Hadley, her shiny, plumb-colored lips spread into a distracted smile. She looks freakishly inhuman.
“Way too much makeup,” I whisper as David and I ease apart.
“So glad y’all were able to come,” she’s saying.
We exchange a look. Since when does she have a southern drawl?
He stifles a grin when she notices him. “Oh, my gawd, David!” she cries, rushing over for a hug. “It’s been so long!” She beckons her husband, who looks like he’d rather drown than admire the magnificent specimen of a man she’s clutching. But he obliges, and they shake hands as David peels away and congratulates them.
She then turns to me. “Josh,” she says, nodding. Her smile twists into a sneer. “I see you two made up after your little tiff last night.”
Of course she heard about that. I’m about to respond when I hear my name again. A familiar voice. Like nails on a chalkboard.
“Joshua?”
No. It can’t possibly be.
“Claire!” Isabelle squeals. “You guys made it!”
I turn around and sure enough, Claire is breathlessly approaching with a tall, bug-eyed douchebag trailing behind. I can only assume this is the fiancé. I mean, what the fu—
“Oh my God! Josh! It is you,” Claire gushes as she breezes past the line of guests to offer Isabelle a hug. She turns to me. “What are you doing here?” she asks. Her smile broadens when she spies Kate and David. “You guys know Isabelle and Dean, too? What a small world.”
The fiancé joins Claire, and he and Isabelle’s groom do the bro hug thing, solving the mystery of how we all wound up here. From the sound of it, I’m guessing they were college roommates or something. He laments about car trouble, and I gather they missed the ceremony. I’m about to grab Hadley’s arm and make a beeline for the nearest exit when Isabelle chimes in.
“How do you know David and the twins, Claire?”
“Well, Josh and I,” she begins, then wrinkles her brow. “I’m sorry, did you say twins? What twins?”
“You know, the twins.” Isabelle flips a hand in our direction. “Josh and Kate.”
Claire whips her head around as Kate and I exchange a glance.
This is about to reach a whole new level of awkward.