Don’t Mind If “I Do” by Everly Ashton
Seventeen
Mazzy
After the photographer is done taking our pictures and assuring me she’ll rush some proofs over tomorrow morning, the four of us head into the dining room to eat a meal prepared by the private chef I hired. I’m happy for the excuse to put some distance between Nick and myself.
Having to cozy up to him for pictures and hold his hand and look into his eyes for the duration of the ceremony was pure torture. I’d rather get a Brazilian.
The fact is, I can’t be this close to Nick without wishing I could go back in time and redo our past. He wasn’t just someone I loved. He was my best friend. I miss laughing with him and confiding in him. Hell, I miss having someone I can let my guard down with and just be myself around without having to worry about it leaking to the press.
What I don’t miss is the trench that formed in my heart after our falling out, or the devastation of losing him. And I need to remember those feelings, so I don’t romanticize what this is between us and end up back there again in six months.
The meal—salmon with risotto—is placed in front of us by the chef when Ollie raises the glass of wine the server poured us all. His gaze darts between us, probing. “To the happy couple.”
“Thank you.” I raise my glass and clink it with everyone else’s.
But before the glass hits my lips, Nick’s hand covers the top. “Is it okay for you to have that?”
I’m confused for a moment, unsure what he’s getting at.
“Oh, shit.” Ollie fumbles and sets down his glass. “I’m sorry, Mazzy, I didn’t realize you were in recovery.”
“I assumed she was pregnant,” Jemma says.
A laugh escapes me. Releasing the pent-up nerves feels good, so I laugh a little longer than is probably necessary. “I’m not an alcoholic. I have Meniere’s disease.”
“Oh.” The relief on Ollie’s face makes me laugh again.
“That’s not pregnant, right?” Jemma asks Ollie. “What’s that?”
Ollie explains it to his fiancée.
A burst of warmth explodes in my chest over Nick’s concern. Alcohol isn’t off-limits per se, but both that and caffeine might contribute to episodes. I’ve never found that to be true for myself though.
To Nick, I say, “It’s okay. I don’t find that there’s any correlation for me, and I don’t plan on having any more than this glass.”
He nods gruffly and picks up his cutlery, digging into his meal.
The warmth from earlier crystallizes into a frost inside my chest. He’s a doctor. It’s not like he read up on the disease because he cares about me or something. Get a grip, Maz.
“That must be really hard to deal with.” Jemma looks across the table at me with concern.
I shrug. “It’s not pleasant, but only when I’m having an attack. There are certainly worse things.”
“Well, that seems like a great attitude to have,” Ollie says. “Don’t you think, Nick?”
Nick looks up from his meal as if he were totally tuned out and has no idea what we’re discussing. “Yeah.”
“So tell me all about when you were kids. Mazzy tells me you guys were, like, best friends growing up.” Jemma’s chin rests on her hand as she stares at Nick.
“Oh, she did?” He glances over, probably wondering what else I told her.
I nod, stepping in to save him. “Yep, and I told her how we ran into each other unexpectedly and how we still felt the same for one another. We knew this was our time and we had to seize it before we missed our chance again.”
“That’s a great story,” he says, eyes narrowing ever so slightly.
“It really is,” Jemma says, missing Nick’s real meaning. “So what was it like growing up together? Did you used to tug on her ponytails?”
“Yeah, Nick. Tell us all about it.” Ollie grins around a mouthful of food.
Nick locks gazes with him and is silent for a minute. “Well, this one here was mostly a pain in my ass until high school.”
“That’s such a lie,” I say.
“Are you kidding me? You followed me around everywhere.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s because I didn’t want to be stuck with our parents. It was so boring, watching them sipping drinks and making polite conversation. And your brother…”
Keith is the last person I should be bringing up.
“Oh, you have a brother?” Jemma straightens in her chair, brow furrowed. “I’ve never heard you mention him.”
Nick says, “He’s two years younger than me. The same age as Mazzy. We’re not close.”
Jemma frowns and looks as if she might ask another question, but Ollie pops in and steers the conversation in another direction. “Do you like baseball, Mazzy? Jemma’s brother works for the Sox.”
I take the bait and run with it, moving the conversation as far from Keith as I can get it. Nick’s quiet through the rest of dinner, but I’ve been to enough charitable events to master the art of conversation, so I don’t think Jemma even notices.
An hour later, Ollie stands from his chair and sets down his napkin. “Well, why don’t we give these newlyweds some privacy?” He helps Jemma pull out her chair.
She looks at us with a grin. “Oh right. Wedding night.” Those googly eyes of hers show up once more.
Nick and I follow them to the front door to say our goodbyes.
“Thanks again for all your help today,” Nick says.
“Mazzy, it was wonderful meeting you. We’ll have to hang out so we can get to know each other better.” She hugs me.
“That would be great.” And I mean it. I like Jemma. She’s a sweet girl, and though she’s a little younger than I am, I don’t feel the age difference.
“You should come to one of our wine nights!” I tilt my head, and she explains further. “Me and two of my friends get together and drink wine then whine about stuff. You’d like them.”
I nod. “Count me in.”
“Perfect.” She gives Nick a hug while I do the same with Ollie.
Then they’re gone and the door is closed, leaving me with my new husband who feels more like a stranger. Not because I don’t know who he is at the core of him, but because I don’t know how to act like I don’t.