“I’m not starting anything.”
“You’ve been weird about him all night.”
“He hugged you for about twenty seconds.”
“It was five.”
“It wasn’t five.”
She looked out the window.
“You know what? This is exactly why I didn’t want him coming.”
“You didn’t invite him.”
“It’s Rachel’s wedding.”
“I know.”
She turned toward me.
“I chose you.”
That sentence ended the conversation.
I chose you.
It sounded reassuring at the time.
Only later did I realize the problem.
Love was not supposed to feel like a competition I had won.
Still, we moved forward.
Engagement.
Wedding planning.
Venue deposits.
Guest list.
Food tasting.
Flowers.
Photographer.
DJ.
Suit fittings.
The thousand tiny decisions required to create one carefully scheduled day.
Lauren seemed happy.
More than happy.
She seemed invested.
She chose our first-dance song.
Argued with her mother about centerpieces.
Spent hours finding the right invitations.
Cried when she tried on her wedding dress.
There were no obvious signs that she was questioning the marriage.
Then, about six weeks before the wedding, Alex returned to Ohio temporarily.
His company was opening an office in Columbus.
Lauren told me casually.
“Alex is going to be in town for a while.”
I looked up from my laptop.
“How do you know?”
“He messaged me.”
“What did he want?”
“Nothing. He just said he was back.”
I waited.
Lauren smiled.
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Make the face.”
“What face?”
“The Alex face.”
“I don’t have an Alex face.”
“You absolutely do.”
She kissed my cheek.
“He means nothing.”
I let it go.
That was six weeks before the wedding.
Three weeks before the wedding, Lauren mentioned she had seen Alex at a coffee shop.
“Randomly?”
“Yes.”
“You talked?”
“For ten minutes.”
“How was he?”
She shrugged.
“Alex.”
That should have meant nothing.
Maybe it did at the time.
Ten days before the wedding, she became slightly distracted.
Not cold.
Not distant enough that anyone would call it a problem.
Just elsewhere sometimes.
I assumed wedding stress.
We were both exhausted.
There were seating-chart arguments.
A vendor canceled.
My uncle suddenly wanted to bring a girlfriend nobody had met.
Lauren’s cousin announced she was vegan after the catering deadline.
Normal wedding chaos.
The night before the wedding was supposed to be simple.
Our rehearsal ended around six-thirty.
Dinner afterward at an Italian restaurant downtown.
Parents.
Wedding party.
Siblings.
Everyone toasted us.
Lauren’s father, Robert, stood and told me:
“Take care of my girl.”
I said:
“I will.”
Lauren squeezed my hand under the table.
Three hours later, she told me she was going to sleep with Alex.
The part that still amazes me is how ordinary the transition was.
We got home around ten.
Lauren removed her earrings.
I loosened my tie.
She went into the bedroom.
When she came back, she had changed into jeans and a black sweater.
I asked:
“Where are you going?”
She said:
“To see Alex.”
I thought she was joking.
I actually smiled.
“What?”