That Wedding (58 page)

I get little prickly tears in my eyes. "Phillip wants to marry me. I don't know why he does. Look at me."

Bradley takes the opportunity to do just that. His eyes slowly survey every inch of my body. I want to tell him I meant look at me, like, I'm a mess. I wasn't telling him to actually look at me.

When he works his way back up to my eyes, he says, "You're fun. Maybe you should ditch him, start a relationship with me."

"Relationships are like a disease, Bradley. You should think twice before you go getting into one. Did you know if you're not careful, they will fester on you, infect you, and smother you. Then I'm pretty sure you die."

"If you feel that way, maybe God
was
trying to tell you something. In fact, if you listen really hard, he will probably say,
Go home with Bradley tonight
."

To which the cuties raise their voices high and both whisper, "
Go home with Bradley tonight. Go home with Bradley tonight.
"

"See. God just spoke to you," Bradley smirks.

"I'm not that drunk," I tell the cuties.

Bradley pulls me toward the other side of the bar, away from the cuties. "What's all this about festering and infections?"

The tears start to fall now, and I can't even stop them because the idea of me and Phillip's relationship dying makes me really sad. It's the whole reason I'm here. Plus, I might be drunk. "Pastor told us that would happen to our relationship because we solve our conflicts with sex."

"Don't cry, baby. Sex sounds like a fun way to solve a conflict."

I cry a little harder. "I know, but it's wrong, and so we're failing couple's counseling. I've never failed anything, Bradley. But I am. And our wedding is going be a disaster. Our guests will catch fire, be eaten by crocodiles, I'll be pulled into the pits of hell because they don't like my dress, my veil is going to burn, and I'll run away with a fireman who looks just like Phillip, straight down to his abs."

Bradley says, "I think you should go change now."

I sniffle. "Okay."

I go in the back, change, and try to compose myself. When I come back out, Bradley has a special vodka shot for me. He toasts, "Here's to good memories and a happy future. Your wedding is going to be amazing. None of those things are going to happen, I promise. Now, go sit with your fiancee."

So I do.

Phillip takes me home. We don't have sex on the stairs because my condo does not have stairs. But I'm drunk enough to be feeling quite naughty, and Phillip doesn't seem to mind that at all.

I have the kind of massive headache that comes from mixing alcohol.

And sixty-eight dollars worth of tips in my coat pocket.

I really should know better than to mix alcohol like that.

Phillip is a sweetie. He took the day off with me. He's been watching movies while I sleep with my head on his lap.

I think maybe I was just scared.

There's no way God could not be Team Phillip.

It's just too right.

I think.

I'm still worried about what my head thinks though.

Shit. We were supposed to meet with Pastor last night. "Phillip, we skipped couple's counseling!"

"It's okay, I called and rescheduled for tomorrow night. Told him you got called out of town."

"Oh, thank you!"

"Although, I think we need to talk about what last night was all about."

"What do you mean?"

He shakes his head at me. "Princess, I know you. Last night was one of your spiraling out of control nights. Well, it could've been, had I not been there, and Bradley wasn't surprising cool."

"Oh, I need to check my phone. He was supposed to text me the name of that vodka. It was the smoothest stuff I've ever tasted!"

Phillip was taking a drink of beer as I uttered these words, and he literally spit sprayed beer back out of his mouth, all over the coffee table and my head. Now, he's laughing.

"What about vodka is so funny?"

He tries to control his laughter as he blurts out, "It was so smooth..........because, because....hahahahahahahahaha. Oh, I'm sorry, but it's just quite funny." He laughs some more.

"Never mind, Phillip."

I'm sorry, but he's being a bit of a jerk about it.

I get up and look for my phone. At some point last night, Phillip took it out of the rice bag. Thanks to Bradley's quick trick, my phone was rehabilitated. Thing powered right up.

There's a text from Bradley.

Phillip is still snickering and pissing me off, so I figure what the hell and text him back.

I look over at Phillip, who's still trying not to laugh every time he looks at me.

I stop texting and say to Phillip, "So I get it, he made me think the water was some kind of amazing special vodka. Laugh all you want, but I think it was sweet of him."

I decide I really don't feel like talking to Phillip right now. "I'm gonna go take a shower. Get ready for dinner."

"Oh, good. I need a shower too. I'm very dirty," he raises his eyebrows at me.

For the first time in our relationship, I can honestly say that I have no desire to have sex with Phillip.

"Uh, I think I'd rather take a shower alone." I don't give him a chance to reply. I just walk in the bathroom and lock the door.

And in the shower, I'm thinking.

I'm thinking that I may have to lie. I'm gonna have to pretend to my friends that everything is fine with Phillip. That I can't wait to marry him, and how we'll have a happy and loved-filled life.

Truth is, I'm thinking maybe God really was trying to tell me something in my dream. I'm not sure I should marry Phillip.

What if I'm just overwhelmed right now with the surprising fact that sex with Phillip is amazing? And that's overshadowing the fact that life with Phillip is not going to be as easy as I think.

Pretty soon, I find myself crying in the shower. I don't know why I'm crying. I just feel sad. Helpless. Confused. Scared.

Alone.

Very alone.

I calm myself down, wash my hair, get out of the shower, and get ready.

Phillip's pouting about the no sex in the shower. He keeps looking at me kinda funny. I can't decide if he's sad or pissed. Finally he says in a very flat tone, "Amy called while you were in the shower."

"Oh, I'll call her back."

"You don't need to. She called me since you didn't answer."

"What'd she want?"

"She said we should have a little celebration today." Phillip's words are saying that we should have a celebration, but his face doesn't look like he's in the mood for any kind of celebrating. In fact, he's looking like he wishes he would've told her the wedding is off.

"Why's that?"

"She got our ceremony programs, menu, and reception cards back from the printer. Only ten more days."

"Uh, yeah. I'm gonna go grab some shoes, and then we better get going. We don't want to be late."

While I'm grabbing an adorable pair of leopard heels with red trim that I'm hoping will put me in a better mood, I'm trying not to freak.

Ten more days!!!

Ten more days??

I feel sick.

It's okay. Everyone says don't freak.

I'm trying. Really, I am.

Deep breath.

No, that won't work. I can't breathe right now. I may be having a heart attack.