Page 4 of What's in a Kiss?

“You can totally do this,” I say, smiling behind my closed eyes. Itisa good vision, and in two days, it’s about to be real. I can see it: Masha’s elated. Eli’s lucky AF and knows it. I’m happy for them.

And, when I glance across the imaginary aisle of this imaginary ceremony... there is Eli’s very real Best Man.

Damn it. Glasswell strikes again.

Who let Jake Glasswell into my visualization? I did not order his famous smile or green eyes, and I would like to send them back. I was doing just fine, thank you, right up until he showed up.

But he won’t leave. He sticks in my mind, because... oh right, he just does whatever he wants. He just gets whatever he wants. He probably doesn’t even want half the stuff he gets, he’s just that lucky.

It’s not that I’m delusional. I know I’m going to have to face this guy at Masha’s wedding, but I intended to put off thinking about him for as long as possible. Like, until tomorrow’s rehearsal dinner, when—glowed-up and dripping in my legtastic mini dress—I’ll feel a tap on my shoulder and I’ll turn, slowly, casually, like whoever’s on the other side can wait.

And there he’ll be. After all these years. I’ll be ready for him. My tone and body language will be the essence of nonchalant when I say,oh hey,andyeah, I guess it has been a minute.

But I don’t need to think about Glasswell now.

As I will my brain to kick him to the curb, the boat rocks, and I realize Masha’s on her feet.

“Bite!” she shouts. “Big bite!”

I gasp and see Masha frantically reeling in her line, her pole bent like the Arc de Triomphe. I scramble to grab a net and get my phone out of my pocket. I video the bride-to-be lift a fat halibut from the water.

“Beautiful!” I say as Masha lowers the wriggling fish into the net.

I run to my tackle box, find my pliers, and remove the hook from the fish’s lip. Its scales glisten like diamonds.

“This is a good omen,” Masha says, as she tosses the fish into the tank attached to the deck. Then she gives me a hug thatalmostcasts Glasswell from my mind.

Chapter Two

An hour later, our beers are drained, our galbi reduced to bones. Gram Parsons dozes on a cushion at the bow, and I’m fileting the halibut as Snoop raps and Masha steers the boat nice and gentle toward home.

“I can’t tell you how much I needed today.” She sighs, facing the sea.

“You really thought I was taking you to a male strip club at eight a.m.,” I say, throwing fish guts overboard.

“Thanks for knowing me,” she says.

“I haven’t solved the mystery,” I say, “but I’ve uncovered some clues.”

“I love you, Liv,” Masha says, gazing into the horizon.

“I love you, too.” I give our words the space they deserve, then I say, “Is now a good time to discuss some maid of honor logistics?” I’ve got one gloved hand on the fish, the other pulling up the Notes app on my phone. I’m still unsettled by how easily Glasswell slipped into my visualization before and am glad to shift my focus to my many more important tasks.

“Sock it to me,” Masha says.

“You have one last dress fitting, tomorrow at two,” I say. “Eli’s tux is being dropped at his studio by noon. You’re confirmed for a manicure at three, then microblading at four.”

“Can you meet me for the manicure tomorrow?” Masha says. “My treat.”

“I’d love that, but...” I say, glancing at my chewed cuticles, which are presently covered in fish scales. “I can’t. I’ll be at Lorena’s.”

“Right.” Masha nods. “Of course.”

During the pandemic, my mom and I started a podcast calledThe Reader’s Daughter. Lorena is so avid a reader of self-help books that she lectures innocent strangers in the checkout line at Ralph’s. Now, thanks to our project, she has the perfect forum for expressing her zeal to the abyss.

And I do mean abyss. Our subscriber numbers are lower than the last round of a limbo line. But we love it because it’s fun. And an unexpected way to bond. I do the production and sound editing in the makeshift studio in her garage. We joke about our nonexistent sponsors, but it’s no joke that the pod is how we survived the pandemic. I didn’t think I could get any closer to my mom, but our podcast proved me wrong.

“Last week’s episode was amazing,” Masha says.

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