Page 135 of It Couldn't Be You
I realized I’d let my foot off the gas a little and tried to focus on the road again. Suddenly his hand was resting palm-up between our seats. I dropped my hand in his. We drove like that together.
The sun was shining, my best friend was getting married today, her in-laws would be there, and I was holding Gabriel’s hand like it was an absolutely normal and right thing to be doing. Then we drove up onto a literal stand-still, bumper-to-bumper traffic on the exit ramp to the airport.
“I think you could probably map another way to get to the entrance, maybe bypass this?” Gabe said, peering out the window.
“This is the only way to the entrance. That’s why there’s a traffic jam.” I said.
“We just need to get to the parking lot. We don’t have to get in front of the airport. You don’t think there’s another way to get to a parking lot?”
We started to squabble about alternate routes, even after cars lined up behind me and there was no backing out. Terrence called to tell us his family had landed and that they would be waiting for us at baggage claim. He asked for an estimate, and we explained we really had no way of knowing. My chest felt tight. The clock felt like it was ticking each minute to taunt me. Gabe and I were both staring out the windows anxiously.
We crept along until we eventually eased our way into the entrance and made it to the parking garage for arrivals.
We raced out of the car and ran through the parking lot all the way toward the airport.
I briskly led us down the sidewalk, weaving through the people until we made it to the second set of doors. They opened before us. I walked in and started to look around the sets of baggage carousels.
I felt Gabriel’s hand tug on mine. Before I could respond, he was twirling me around until I was in his arms.
There were people all around us. People rushing. People embracing. There was a time crunch. A wedding we needed to rush back to.
But there was Gabe, and his warm body pressing into mine and his lips against mine. Everything else melted away, just for a minute. My arms around his neck, his fingers gripping my waist. I pulled away, out of breath, laughing.
“No one else I’d rather argue about directions with,” he whispered in my ear.
Fifty-One
Terrence’s family was full of excited, relieved energy. They didn’t care we were late; they were just grateful they were able to be here. We hugged like we’d known each other for years.
When we walked into the house, Terrence was waiting for his family, and his mom burst into tears upon seeing him. They embraced.
His dad was holding back tears, only saying, “Son.”
Terrence buried his face in his dad’s shoulder and took in a jagged breath. “You’re here,” he kept saying.
His sister and best friend were sniffling. I couldn’t help but think of Katie’s persistence, demanding we needed to reschedule if Terrence’s family could not be there. Her late-night request to pray the rain away.
Terrence spun his sister around in the air, beaming.
The wedding happened in the sweet, balmy Texas summer air that only comes after a storm. It smelled like lilacs. Katie walked down the aisle in a strapless ivory dress with a lacy train as the pecan trees swayed overhead. Her hair was in loose waves down her back.
I wore a spaghetti strap sienna dress and old worn cowboy boots. My hair was in a long, loose braid. Gabe had on a suit jacket and his curls as tamed as they could be. He stood across from me during the ceremony. The guests sat in old church pews laced with lilies and ivy.
During her vows, Katie told Terrence we called him Canada Man when she first met him and that it felt like magic then—and it felt like magic now. Terrence said that one of the first things he said to Katie was, “I’m sold,” seemingly in reference to her baked goods, but really, he had meant her.
The breeze blew my hair across my face as they exchanged rings. Gabriel’s eyes lingered on me like we were magnetic.
Twinkle lights hung overhead during the reception, weaving through the branches of trees. A DJ was playing some sappy old love song as I got myself another cocktail. I’d had a plate full of food and swayed around the dance floor with the flower girl. My parents were at our table, clinking glasses.
We’d taken what felt like a million photos. I’d hugged Katie and Terrence and took credit for bringing them together.
“I’m happy to share you with him for life,” I’d whispered in Katie’s ear.
I had known Gabriel would be preoccupied with the kind of obligations the brother of the bride was bound to have with photos, visiting relatives, and crisis management. I was sipping my drink as the post-storm breeze rippled through my hair when Gabe snuck up and wrapped his arms around me from behind.
“You are out to torture me when you put on dresses,” he groaned into my neck.
“That is actually my one goal every time I don an outfit—torture Gabriel Hernandez.”
