Operation Meet Cute by K.M. Neuhold
Chapter 19
HARLOW
Some people may say that hiding in the bathroom to avoid a difficult discussion is childish…and I can’t even argue with that because that strategy hasn’t exactly gotten me where I want to be.
By the time I finished having a panic attack and cursing Keanu Reeves for making me think for one fucking second that everything was going to work out, Teddy was gone. I don’t blame him for that decision, although I do feel bad that he didn’t get a chance to wash up before fleeing into the night from his emotionally closed off fuck buddy.
That was days ago, and I still haven’t worked up the nerve to text or call him.
What’s worse, today is Marnie’s wedding, and I need to find a way to ignore the cement brick that’s been sitting on my chest since the words New York fell from Teddy’s lips and help my best friend celebrate the happiest day of her life.
I groan, rolling over in bed and burying my face in the nearest pillow, hoping it will have some kind of magical powers to turn back time to right before Teddy dropped the bomb on me. Or better yet, before I got the crazy idea to start having sex with him. Fuck, no, that sounds like a terrible reality to live in.
The pillow doesn’t have any time-travel capabilities, but it does still smell like Teddy. My stomach knots and my throat tightens as I squeeze the pillow tighter, breathing every last molecule of Teddy’s essence into my lungs and wishing like hell things were different.
I lie like that, with my face pressed into a pillow, just barely holding back tears, until my alarm goes off, alerting me that it’s time to get up and be the bubbly, happy, best friend of the bride today. There will be plenty of time to kick myself and mourn once I’m back in California in another thirty-six hours.
I drag myself out of bed and continue my pep talk all through my shower and getting dressed, and then I gather up my suit bag and everything else I’ll need for the day and head over to meet Marnie.
“You look like shit,” she says as soon as I step inside.
“Aw, thanks, honey, I love you too,” I respond, my tone absolutely drenched in sarcasm.
“I just mean that it looks like you haven’t slept.”
“I’m fine,” I lie, hanging my suit bag up on the back of the dressing room door and getting focused. “All right, we need hair, makeup, and then dress, and we only have a couple of hours, so we need to make it count.”
Who knew all of those hours spent in Marnie’s bedroom as teenagers doing her hair and makeup was basically training for today, the most important day of her life? No pressure or anything.
“Thanks for doing this. You’d think a last-minute hair appointment would be easier to get than a full wedding cake, but apparently not.”
I plug in the curling iron and start to rifle through the bag of makeup we picked up yesterday to make her look fabulous.
“You know I’ve got you, boo.”
I’m not sure if the nervous bride trope is just for shows and movies or if Marnie is just exceptionally calm, but she has a happy, serene expression while I work on her hair.
“So, has Teddy been keeping busy while I’ve monopolized all your time the past few days?” she asks.
My stomach clenches, and I’m so distracted by the question, I accidentally clamp the curling iron on my finger.
“Motherfucker,” I mutter, sticking my finger in my mouth until it stops throbbing and then getting back to work. “He, um…” I might as well just tell her; she’s going to notice when he’s not at the wedding in a little while anyway. “He left, actually.”
“He left?” she repeats. “Why?”
I shrug, avoiding meeting her gaze under the guise of being engrossed in making her hair perfect. Haven’t I suffered through enough emotionally traumatizing conversations this week? “I told you it wasn’t going to work out.”
“What did you do?” she asks, frowning at me.
“Why do you assume it’s something I did?” I start gathering up her hair and pinning it into place with bobby pins, possibly a little harder than necessary because she yelps. “I did what you said,” I go on because now I’m feeling a little ragey about the whole thing. “I started considering it. I unlocked the door of possibility and even started to tiptoe out to see what could happen, and you know what? It fucking blew up in my face. Now Teddy’s gone, and he’s moving to New York, so I’ll never even see him again. That’s what happened.”
Marnie is silent, her eyes wide as I finish my rant and try to be more gentle with the bobby pins.
“I’m sorry,” she says after a few heavy seconds. “I still think opening yourself up to him was the right thing to do.”
“I didn’t even get the chance to do that. It all happened too fast, and the next thing I knew, he was gone.”
She sighs. “Oh, Harlow.”
“What? ‘Oh, Harlow,’ what?” I grumble, all too aware that I’m being a complete dick when I’m supposed to be in celebration mode. “It’s your wedding day. Why don’t we just drop this and focus on you?”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m positive.”
We turn to more wedding appropriate topics, like the honeymoon to Hawaii that Oscar surprised her with last night, while I finish her hair and put on her makeup. Luckily, we have the same skin tone, so I’m able to swipe some of her foundation to cover up the enormous bags under my eyes.
Almost as soon as I finish buttoning up her dress, Marnie’s mom pops her head into the room to say that the photographer wants to get some shots before the wedding starts.
“Go ahead, I have to get dressed, and then I’ll be right out.”
She gives me a hug and then follows her mom out, leaving me dangerously alone with my thoughts, like what it would be like getting ready for my own wedding. My mind conjures an image of me in a suit, taking a pair of clippers to Teddy’s beard in order to smooth it out. He would grumble about it, and I’d tell him it was just for the pictures so our future children won’t think he’s some kind of wild animal.
A lump rises in my throat, and I try to swallow it down, but only manage to make a strangled, sobbing sound. Fuck. I need to get it together.
Trying to force all other thoughts out of my head, I take my suit out of the bag and start to undress. While I’m unbuttoning my pants, I remember to take my phone out of the pocket and an unexpected piece of paper comes with it. I stare at the folded paper silently, afraid to look at it and dying to know what it says at the same time. It has to be another one of Teddy’s silly, terrible poems, but I’m not sure I can handle it right now.
I unfold it anyway. I’m already emotional, I might as well complete the torture. It’s much longer than his usual poems, which are typically only a few lines. It’s not until I start to read it that I realize he wrote out the lyrics to “At Last,” the song we danced to in the field the other night. That’s it, no note, no jokes, just the lyrics to a painfully romantic song stuffed into my pocket for me to find.
I’m not going to cry. I’m not going to cry. Nope, not a tear shed here. Sniffling is not crying. I tap to unlock my phone and pull up my text thread with Teddy, typing out a message before deleting it.
I can’t ask him to stay just to be friends, even friends with benefits. If I ask him to stay that means I’m committing. Am I ready to commit? And is it even fair of me when he has such an incredible opportunity? Why did this have to happen so fast? Maybe if I had a little more time to figure things out, to find my courage, it would be different.
How can I ask him to stay if I’m not even sure I know what love really is? Not Hollywood love, but real love. Is there even such a thing?
Somehow, I manage to get dressed in my suit, folding up the note and sliding it into the pocket of my pants, along with my phone. Then I put on the strongest smile I can manage and step out of the room to celebrate my best friend’s wedding.
The ceremony itself is beautiful, and it’s amazing how many people managed to come on such short notice. After they say their vows, we all head inside where the food will be served, along with an open bar and a dance floor. I really fucking wish Teddy was here.
The meal and first dance pass in a blur, and I’m kept busy by old friends and relatives of Marnie’s continuously approaching me to catch up. It might be nice if I wasn’t so utterly miserable.
“I can’t believe how nice this turned out on such short notice,” my mother says, coming over and saving me from the millionth mind-numbing question from a near-stranger about my career and life in California.
“I’m astounded we pulled it off,” I admit. “But she sure does look happy.” I sigh, looking at Marnie and Oscar on the dance floor together, staring deeply into each other’s eyes.
“Love is a beautiful thing,” my mother says, sounding wistful.
I snort. “Love is a minefield.”
“Since when have you become such a cynic? You love love.”
My heart squeezes. She’s right. I’ve always been a romantic, but that was for other people, for fantasies. Deep down, I’ve kept the lessons I learned from my father about trusting people tucked close and always in mind. “I’m not even sure what it means anymore.”
Maybe that’s why my script was such shit. Maybe I’ve never understood what love really is.
“You do. You’re just a little lost,” she assures me. “Maybe you should ask that Teddy of yours. I bet he could tell you what love means.”
I try to laugh, but it sounds like another one of those pitiful sobs. “I’ll do that,” I lie.
“I’m sorry to interrupt.” I look up to find Marnie’s cousin, Alfie, standing over me. He grew up good, all muscles and a strong jaw, wearing the hell out of his suit. Even when he was a skinny teenager with acne-ridden skin, I have to admit I had a bit of a crush. “It is you. I thought so.” He smiles at me. “I was wondering if you might want to dance.”
“I, um…” I glance at my mom, who shoos me away.
“Go, dance. I’m going to go see about the open bar.”
A dance can’t hurt, so I stand up and follow him onto the floor. The song changes to a slower one, and I’m about to change my mind and go back to my table when Alfie puts an arm around my waist and pulls me close with a wolfish grin.
I have to admit, he’s not a bad dancer, and he smells pretty good. Under different circumstances, I might be considering the meet-cute potential of this moment. But I think that version of myself is gone now, and I’m not even sure I’ll miss him.
“You grew up good, Harlow.”
“Thanks, so did you, Alfie.” We sway to the music, and I hold myself back just enough that our bodies aren’t quite touching.
“I almost couldn’t believe it when I spotted you,” he goes on. “I don’t know if you knew this, but I always kind of had a thing for you when we were growing up. It felt like fate seeing you here alone.”
“Oh, I’m not alone.” I shake my head and inch back further. “I mean, technically I’m alone here, but I’m not alone,” I babble.
“Ah,” he says, looking genuinely disappointed. “Is it serious?”
Is it serious? That’s the million-dollar question right there. “It’s…” I blow out a long breath. “Complicated.”
That was the wrong thing to say. I watch as the hope renews in his eyes. “Complicated?”
“Not like that. I’m…um…” I shake my head and tug my bottom lip between my teeth. “I have to…” I pull out of his arms and point my thumb vaguely in another direction before hurrying away.
I slip down a hallway and lean against the wall, catching my breath and trying to convince myself that none of this is as difficult as I’m making it.
I pull out my phone again, unlocking it and staring at the background image of me and Teddy. I took it last year while the two of us lounged on his couch one lazy morning. His hair is all messy and my eyes are red from having been up too late the night before. I never noticed before, but the way he’s looking at me while I smile stupidly into the camera, it’s… Has he always looked at me like that? And why didn’t I notice it before this week?
My fingers itch to dial his number, just to hear his voice, but I manage to resist the urge. I can’t yo-yo Teddy back and forth. I need to be sure, or I need to let him take that job. I have a lot of thinking to do, and only a couple of days to do it.
I just hope it won’t be too late.
