"Connie didn't seem the type," he mutters uncomfortably.
"And what's that supposed to mean?"
"Well, she…I don't know." He stumbles over the last words as though he's regretting his statement.
"Who would seem the type?"
"Someone with looser morals, I guess." Looser morals. Is that what he's insinuating that I have? Well, fuck him. He lost the right to think anything about my morals or lack of them a long time ago.
"It isn't just about sex," I tell him, with a bite in my tone. "It's about love. Love between five people that transcends societal constructs. Love that battles every day against prejudice."
Tyler nods, his hands clutching the wheel just a little tighter. "I get that," he says. "Love isn't always easy."
I grit my teeth and purse my lips, his comment slicing at my skin. It takes a few deep breaths to steady myself enough to reply because what I say next is important. "Love is very simple, Tyler. Love is honest and kind. It's selfless and sacrificing. It's believing that someone is as important as you are and always treating them as you would like to be treated. It's everything."
His head droops, and his eyes drift closed, then he shakes his head and refocuses on the road. His knuckles whiten as he grips even harder. "I'm sorry."
A sound leaves my throat that I haven't made for three years. I promised myself that crying over Tyler was in my past. I promised that I'd never give him that power again. But when I made that promise, I thought he was always going to be a ghost. I never believed I'd hear those two words that have torn my heart out all over again and left it pulsing and bloody in my palms.
"Shit," Tyler mutters, glancing at me as bitter tears spill over my cheeks.
"I can't do this now," I gasp, swiping at my face. There will be no point in Tyler driving me to Connie's wedding if I weep my makeup off and am too emotionally wrecked to put on a brave face. "Can we just pretend that we're two old friends…just pretend that none of it happened?"
Tyler's jaw ticks again as he grits his teeth. My eyes drift down, finding a date tattooed into his skin. It's the date three months after he left me—three months into my sadness. "Of course," Tyler finally says. "Whatever you need."
I turn my body away from him, twisting so my knees are resting against the door of the truck and my line of vision is fixed through the window. I stay that way until I've swallowed down all my emotions and pressed them into the box that I made to keep them safely away from my heart.
When we pull into the lot of the hall where Connie's wedding is in full swing, I straighten up, smoothing my skirt and patting my hair into place. I run my finger beneath my eyes to pick up any mascara smudges and inhale a deep, steadying breath.
"It looks like it's buzzing," Tyler says as he pulls into a vacant space and flicks off the ignition.
"Let's go and have a good time." I throw open the door and shake my head at my own flippancy. Who would have thought that I'd be this way? Not me. The thousands of conversations I had with Tyler in my head were never anything like this. But real life is often so different from imagination.
Tyler follows me into the hall as I scan the crowd for Carmella or Connie or another familiar face.
Carmella spots me first, though, barreling toward me with a plate filled with dessert. "Sandy." Her arms go around my chest, and I sink into my best friend's hug, so grateful to see her. I know the moment she spots Tyler because her whole body goes rigid. "What the fuck…?"
"It's a long story," I say quickly. "Don't make a scene. He drove me from the repair shop. I've told him I don't want to talk about anything…that we're just going to have a good time. When this celebration is done, I'll say what I need to say and walk away, okay?"
With her free hand, Carmella tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear with the tenderness of someone with love in their heart. "Protect that heart of yours, San San." Her use of my nickname brings back the burning sensation in my throat.
I nod firmly. "I will. I've gotten to be an expert at that."
Turning, I usher Tyler forward. "Tyler, you remember Carmella." He nods and has the decency to do it with shame on his handsome face. It's so weird to see him standing amongst my friends, as though I've portalled in Tyler's imaginary older brother.
"Tyler." Carmella nods once, telling Tyler with every fiber of her being that he's treading on thin ice.
"There you are." Derek appears next to his wife, handing her a long-stemmed glass of what looks like champagne.
There's a moment of awkwardness as we all stand in silence. Then Carmella springs to life. "Derek, this is Tyler."
Both men reach out politely to shake hands. "The Tyler?" he asks, glancing at his wife, and she nods. Derek's eyes open a little wider, then he smiles politely. "So you guys are back together?"
Trust a man to put his foot into it.
"Err, no darling," Carmella says, trying to rescue him. "Sandy's car broke down, and Tyler kindly offered to escort her."
"Well, that's good of you," Derek says, glancing between us as though he's hoping he'll be able to read our minds and find out what's really going on.
"Let's get something to eat," I say to Tyler. "And a drink. You must be starving."
I grab his hand out of instinct, and the feel of his big rough palm in mine is overwhelming to me. We used to measure our hands, mine so small against his capable strength. He holds me gently as though he's frightened that I might break, and it's true. I might. I could if I keep drifting backward.
"Sandy," Connie's voice calls over the chatter of other guests. "I didn't think you were going to make it…" Her eyes fix onto our joined hands, then run up Tyler's muscular arm to his muscular shoulder and across his insanely ripped chest before drifting up to his face. "Whoa," she says. "Well…Tyler, I was not expecting it to be you."
"Congratulations," he says, sliding his hand out of mine. "You look beautiful."
"Thanks," Connie beams. "I just tossed this outfit together. There was absolutely no planning involved at all." Her eyes roll and then find mine, wide and searching. "I'm so glad you came."
"Me too." I pull her into a hug, remembering how kind she was to Carmella during her wedding breakdown. "Now, where are those sexy husbands of yours?"
"Well, to be honest, I have absolutely no idea. There are too many of them to keep track of, so I've just had to accept that they're out there somewhere." She waves her hand around theatrically. "One of them has Brett, of that I'm certain."
"I can't wait to see him. He must have grown so much."
"His voice is practically breaking," Connie laughs. She's exaggerating excessively, but I get her point. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Natalie with her twin sons, and they seem to have shot up inches since the last time we were in the same room.
Time is passing for everyone, but my life has been standing still.
"Connie." A woman waves from across the room, and Connie shrugs apologetically.