Page 96 of How to Ruin Your Ex's Wedding
“I need to stop a wedding. And I want to make sure I’m not too late,” I say, trying to temper my exasperation.
“Ohmigod, that’s so romantic,” the one on the left says. I’m kind of baffled as to why women think this is so romantic. It’s basically an asshole move. Interrupting a sacred event that has nothing to do with you. Completely blindsiding the woman you want to be with you instead of the other guy. Then, if all goes well, force them to waste a fuck-ton of money that’s bound to be non-refundable since you—I—waited until the do-or-die moment to take action. And run the risk of becoming a social pariah when the event has over six hundred people in attendance, like this one does.
“Okay,” the one on the right starts. “The family gets seated first.”
“Right,” the one on the left says. “Then the guys walk up to the front, then the bridesmaids.”
They tag team the processional and ceremony order until reaching the part where they walk back down the aisle, hand in hand, as man and wife.
“Great,” I say. “Thank you.” I turn to leave, then pivot back for one more question. “How long does all that usually take?”
They look at each other. “Twenty minutes,” the one on the right says, at the same time the one on the left says, “At least half an hour, if not longer.”
“Thank you!” I walk to the other end of the ferry. The end that will reach the dock first.
There’s got to still be time. There just has to be.
Four seventeen p.m.
We are nearing the island and finally I have service, I dial Gregor again. This time, he answers.
“Dude, I was just about to call you. Where are you?”
“Am I too late?”
“No, it’s hasn’t even started yet.”
“Oh, thank god. Why?”
“I don’t know, they haven’t told us anything. They walked the family down, and then the quartet just keeps playing music, just not the ‘walk down the aisle’ kind. The guys aren’t even standing up front yet.”
“Okay, good. This is gonna work, G. I can feel it!”
“Sending you positive vibes, brother. I gotta get back in. I’ll put my phone on silent and try to text you if anything else happens. Damn guy has me up in the front with his family. I don’t want to be disrespectful, you know?”
“Gregor, it doesn’t matter how you act. You’ll never have to see those people again. I am stopping this wedding.”
“Okay, man.” He laughs. “Whatever you say. See you soon.”
I disconnect the call and watch greedily as the island grows closer.
Four twenty-one p.m.
I’m the first one off the ferry and sprinting to the taxi stands.
No taxis.
Okay. Try to catch my breath. No problem. I’ll order a Lyft.
I pull up the app. Closest one is ten minutes away. Uber is thirteen minutes. Too long. Way too long.
Fuck.
I look around and see one of those stands where you can rent a motorized scooter through an app to ride around the island.
Perfect.
Four twenty-five p.m.
