After sunset, they built a bonfire. Kate and Jeff brought out the buckets of beer and champagne, and paper plates overflowing with appetizers. The group sat on folding chairs and towels and chatted loosely, as though people got married on the spur of the moment every day. As though the groom weren’t one of the most recognizable people in all of country music. Jake had brought out speakers, so they listened to music on his phone and stared out at the blackness of the ocean.
“Sorry to ruin your girls’ weekend,” Dylan said to Suzanne, who looked more relaxed in the firelight than Rebecca even thought it possible for Suzanne to be.
“Sorry to ruin your big wedding,” she said, kicking his bare foot with hers.
“Do you want to hear your song?”
“What?”
“I’ve been writing a song for our wedding. It’s not finished, but…”
Dylan picked up his guitar and began picking out a few chords. His voice was melodic and perfect, even without rehearsal. “Baby put your hair up, or wear it down, or shave your head…”
Suzanne shook her head and chuckled.
“We can go out dancing, to a ball game, or just stay home and rock the bed.”
Jeff whistled loudly, and then yelled, “Ow!” as Kate elbowed him in the ribs, nearly knocking him off a tiny fabric camp stool.
Dylan was unfazed. “Honey, I don’t care, what you do or what you wear. You don’t have to be perfect, because you’re perfect for me.…”
Marci stood abruptly, glancing apologetically at Dylan. She clamped a hand over her mouth, turned, and sped toward the house. She only made it as far as the bushes, however, where she stopped to vomit loudly.
“Well, like I said, the song’s not done yet,” Dylan said, smiling. “That’s not exactly the reaction I was going for.”
Suzanne pulled him toward her by the sleeve. “I love it. I love you.”
The group broke into separate conversations as everyone began discussing the song and Marci’s morning sickness that was apparently also midnight sickness.
Rebecca stood, stretched, and walked back down to the water, enjoying the sand under her feet. It had grown more overcast as evening came, and there was no moon. The night was inky black over the water. Except for the tiny waves at her feet lighted by the blaze, there was nothing to see but a few dim stars visible between the clouds. It felt like standing on the edge of nothing.
She felt him behind her before she saw him.
“Quite a night,” Jake said.
“Yes,” Rebecca said. A chill ran up her spine. She could not bring herself to turn around.
“I heard this was your idea,” he said.
“Well, sort of. I mean, I guess it was my idea but Beth did most of the planning.”
His hand on her bare shoulder was warm and strong. Rebecca sometimes forgot how little real human contact she had these days, aside from the bustling and jostling of the airport. For years, she had measured her life in increments of Jake: a smile, a phone call, a brush with his hand, a peck on the cheek. And for a few moments, four years ago … But that had been between his engagements to Marci—the disastrous first one, and the real one that stuck. Now, he belonged irrevocably to Marci, no matter what Rebecca’s feelings were.
The hand on her shoulder seemed to radiate warmth. She knew she should turn and walk back to the safety of the fire and the gaze of other people. But her feet were glued to the sand. “Congratulations again on the new pregnancy,” she said. She wasn’t sure if she was building a bridge between them or trying to tear one down.
“Yes. It’s … it’s such a blessing. Of course.”
The thing was, and Rebecca didn’t think she was imagining this, he didn’t sound blessed. She hesitated. “I’m sure you’re thrilled to have another baby. Bonnie is so beautiful.”
“She’s the light of my life,” he said. This much was genuine. “And, yeah, I’m thrilled, it’s just—”
“Hey guys,” Suzanne said suddenly. Rebecca jumped. She hadn’t heard anyone approaching over the sound of the waves. And the blood pumping in her ears.
“Hey there, Mrs. Dylan Burke.” Jake did not remove his hand, but simply put his other arm around Suzanne so that he was draped between the two of them. It was an affectionate gesture. Brotherly.
“Ugh, don’t say that,” Suzanne said. Without looking, Rebecca knew Suzanne was wrinkling her nose. “It makes me feel old.”
“You’d better get used to it,” Jake said. He kissed Suzanne on the cheek. “Congratulations, Suze. Really. He’s a good guy, especially for a famous person.”
“Thanks, Jakie,” Suzanne said, using the nickname she’d had for him in college. How was it possible that had been almost fifteen years ago? “Now we just need to find the right guy for Rebecca. Don’t you know anyone? Maybe one of those pro football players from your film? Just think, she could be on the Real Housewives of Atlanta in a couple of years.”
Jake mumbled something to the ocean. Rebecca felt humiliation rising in her chest. “Actually,” she said impulsively, “Rebecca is already seeing someone.”
Suzanne’s shock was visible even in the dim light from the fire behind them. “What? Who? Why didn’t you mention this?”
“You didn’t ask,” Rebecca said. “He’s a pilot.”
“Really?” Suzanne said. “How wonderful. Anyone I’ve met?”
Rebecca was already regretting the lie. “No, he flies the international routes. His name is…” She searched her database of pilots for someone who was real and single. Better to keep a lie as close to the truth as possible. “Sandy.”
“Sandy. What’s he like? Why have you been keeping him secret?”
Rebecca thought about the real-life Sandy, a pilot she flew with once every couple of months back and forth to London. Because he’s twenty years older than me and kind of a dick, actually. He has a mustache that looks like a dead mouse and he’s always telling gross, racist stories about venereal diseases he picked up when he flew the Asian routes. Oh God, why did I do this?
“Well, he is recently divorced.” In truth, she thought Sandy had been divorced for about a decade, but he still referred to his ex-wife in such bitter terms it felt recent. “And obviously since we work together…”
She trailed off, hoping that the vague implication would be enough to placate Suzanne. It wasn’t. “So, is it serious?”
Jake looked at her now, too. “Well, sort of,” Rebecca stammered. “I mean, it’s still early in the relationship. So, no. I guess not serious yet.”
They waited for her to expand on what she’d said. Rebecca, however, had no earthly idea what to say next. Why had she lied? She was lonely, yes. She could admit that. But was she really so bad off that she had to make up fake relationships?
Fortunately, Marci emerged from the beach house and called to Jake, who waved at her and walked up toward the house. “I am glad you’re seeing someone,” Suzanne said when they were alone. “We’ve all been a little worried about you. Especially Jake and Marci. Jake is really fond of you, you know. I mean, we all are.”
The tone in Suzanne’s voice was unreadable, and her eyes were fixed on the bonfire twenty feet away. “Mmm…,” Rebecca said, noncommittal. At least tonight, there was one topic she knew was safe. “Congratulations again, Suzanne. I know you and Dylan will be really happy together.”
Suzanne bit her lip. “I’m afraid so,” she said, admiring her new husband, who was arguing animatedly with Jeff about something while Kate shook her head and laughed. “I don’t really know how to be a wife, though. Long-term relationships aren’t exactly my specialty.”
“You’ll be great,” Rebecca said. “It’s one of those things you can only do well when the time is right.” As though I know a damn thing about it.
“Thanks, Rebecca,” Suzanne said. “I can’t believe you did all this. It’s wonderful.”
“You weren’t disappointed? I mean, it wasn’t fancy.”
“Are you kidding? It couldn’t have been more perfect.” Suzanne kissed her on the cheek and Rebecca flushed. They waded arm in arm through the powdery sand and rejoined the others at the fire.