“I’m sorry. But I need to turn to you and tell you these things about Dad,” Mom says.

“I didn’t mean — it’s okay, Mom.” I sigh. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

“Can you call Dad? Do that Timeface thing with him on the computer? Last time you were home you set it up for us, but then Dad fiddled with the computer and I think he broke it.”

“Facetime, Mom. It’s called Facetime. And yes, I can. I’ll make more of an effort. Get Jane over to the house and she can fix it.” Jane is my eleven-year-old niece, Ellen’s daughter, and girl coder extraordinaire.

“Jane’s here baking cookies. I’ll ask her.” Mom gasps. “Ryan! I completely forgot you’re at that wedding. How is Carrie? Am I going to meet her someday?”

I happen to walk past a big picture window where I can see the entire wedding reception. Carrie’s under a tall canopy with the rest of the wedding party, everyone’s attention on the bride and groom as they dance. She’s whispering something to Angela, both of them holding Champagne glasses, and then they laugh.

Carrie scans the room.

She’s looking for me.

“Ryan? You there?” Mom asks.

Just as I open my mouth to reply to my mother, to tell her yes, she’ll meet Carrie one day, that yes, I’m in love with her, that yes, Dad will be fine and yes — I can fix everything — I see Jamey approach Carrie and take her hand, kiss it, then lead her to the dance floor.

Something in me snaps.

“I’m here, Mom. And yes, you’ll meet Carrie someday.” I hope.

“Oh, that’s great! I’m so happy for you, sweetie!”

“I have to go, Mom. Wedding stuff. Love you and Dad.”

Click.

By the time I reach the reception, the band is playing a jazzed-up version of a Mumford & Sons song, Jamey holding Carrie close and talking to her softly, the other ushers and bridesmaids all paired off in couples that dance around Jenny and Aiden. The bride’s parents and both sets of the groom’s parents are dancing.

I don’t care about decorum, so I cut in, interrupting Jamey mid-sentence with a look that says I assume he’ll move.

He does. Smart man. And I think I see a little smile on his face as he moves off.

The second I’m touching Carrie, the world rights itself again. Her warmth, her scent, the soft press of her dress fabric against my palm, the brush of her loose curls against my nose all add up to a grounding I can’t get from an anti-static wristband or a heel grounder. She’s my emotional core, my heart’s lightning rod, my true North.

And as I pull her into my arms, I realize it’s time to tell her.

“Hi - Ow! Oof!” she says softly, moving her high-heeled feet to my left. “Ryan, can you lead a little more?”

I sway slowly to the music, my hands on her hips, one of her hands going up to my shoulder, the other on my waist. “Okay.”

I crush her toes again.

“What are you doing? Quit joking around! I don’t have enough toes for this.”

“I’m not — what do you mean, joking around?”

“Ryan, you’re a master masseur. You dance at work. There’s no way you’re really this clumsy. You must be pretending.” Carrie winks at me.

Pretending.

“Uh, no. I really am this bad at slow dancing.” It’s like I’m in eighth grade again, terrified to touch a girl, mind racing a million miles a second, my body not quite mine. None of that is true, of course. I’m twenty-seven, sexually experienced, the size of a tight end and a piece of eye candy manmeat for O Spa clients, but it doesn’t erase the old Ryan buried deep inside me who is standing here in disbelief that a girl is letting me touch her at all.

Carrie laughs. “You faker.”

I lean down, barely dodging her foot, and whisper, “I’m not faking, Carrie. Not in any way.”

Her whole body quivers, a violent shake that lasts for less than a second. Is that because she’s really faking? Last night was too real. No way.

No fucking way was that pretend.

Before I can spill my guts and tell her how I really feel about her, the music ends, an abrupt transition that leads to applause for the bride and groom, wine glasses chiming in the night as people tap forks on them, chanting “kiss kiss kiss.”

We’re not the bride and groom, but who am I to disappoint a crowd?

CARRIE

I’ve had two glasses of Champagne. Or three. Obviously that explains this bubbly feeling as Ryan kisses me. I think I might be a little tipsy. Why else would I be having this much fun?

As his lips press against mine and his hands touch me like he means it, I find myself letting go in his arms, just wanting this to be real. Ryan and I need to talk. We need to do more than talk. A lot more.

Right now, all I want more of is his mouth.

It’s just a normal wedding reception, with a normal band. The usual steak dinner, the usual cake. I probably go to four of these a year. But this one is so much better. For some reason, I feel wonderful. I feel… like the world is full of goodness and possibility.

Strange.

I am dancing. With Ryan. With his arms around me, and stepping on my toes, and laughing. I want to do that again and again. I need to do that. I break away, regretfully ending the kiss, and smile at him.

“I need a minute,” I say, patting his chest, reaching up to run my finger along his jaw.

That look. The way he’s staring at me, like he worships me. It can’t be pretend, can it?

Can it?

We really need to talk.

But first I need to use the ladies’ room. And there are a lot of women in here.

Because I go to so many weddings, I can tell you that there is always a traffic jam in the ladies’ room at the reception, and it’s not the peeing that’s the problem. It’s the mirror. There are at least eight women ahead of me, waiting for mirror space.

There’s no one in here I know, so I pull out my phone to pass the time until it’s my turn. And find a text from Ryan: They’re playing Cotton Eyed Joe, where are you?

Smiling, I type: Be right back

This is definitely a great wedding.

“This is ridiculous,” Chloe says at my elbow. You should see her dress, oh my God. Ice blue with lime green flowers embroidered on the skirt. Lime sandals. So cool. And she always looks like she just threw it on, no effort involved. “I have a purse mirror. I’ll hold it for you if you’ll hold it for me. We can use hand sanitizer for our hands.”