Page 69 of Good as Gold
“Okay,” I say, giving in. Otto and Lyle are still having trouble staffing their various businesses, and I don’t want to do the wedding alone. “Sure. Let’s give it a whirl.”
Eight hours in a beer truck with Rory. How bad could it be?
* * *
Pretty bad, as it turns out. But not for the reasons I’d imagined.
Rory turns up dressed in black jeans and a white dress shirt, which is more or less appropriate. This is Vermont, and the wedding reception is set up in tents on the grassy slope of a flower farm. The bride and groom are wearing formal attire and Birkenstocks on their feet.
That’s how Vermont rolls.
Rory is uncomplaining during the setup, and a hard worker once we get into the thick of things, which is immediately. The pace of work reaches a frenzy at about nine p.m. “I thought we were busy before,” he says, as the makeshift dance floor shakes with the DJ’s bass. “But this is crazy.”
He’s not wrong. We’ve served an unholy amount of beer at this wedding, while the guy serving wine at the other truck across the way looks bored.
“Look how happy they are,” he says when we finally get a lull. “That guy looks like he won the fucking lottery.” He nods toward the bride and groom, who are slow dancing together.
“He’s just looking forward to the honeymoon,” I say lightly.
“Nah. He’s happy because he hasn’t fucked it all up yet,” Rory says. “She still thinks he hung the moon. I was that guy once. When I still had my corporate job? Leila didn’t think I was a loser.”
I cast around for a suitable change of subject and come up dry. But Ireallydon’t want to talk about Leila.
“She can’t stand the sight of me now,” he says darkly. “Honestly can’t believe we lasted as long as we did. I was never good enough for her.”
My gaze shifts toward the dance floor, and I find myself hoping that another dozen partygoers will suddenly get thirsty.
But no such luck.
“You know why I kissed Leila the first time?” he asks.
No, I really don’t. “Why does anyone kiss anyone?”
Rory snorts. “It was a little more complicated than that. It was her senior year in college. Didn’t seem like you were ever gonna start a business with me. And Leila was gonna have to get a job somewhere and leave me behind, too.”
I sigh.
“I had nothing to lose, so I just went for it one night. Planted one right on her. She didn’t stop me, you know? So I did it again the following week. Then I fucked her, and she liked it.”
My stomach bottoms out. I don’t want to hear this.
“Couldn’t believe my luck. For a while, whenever we were together, I thought it would be the last time. But somehow, we were an honest-to-God couple. And I thought—at least that asshole Matteo will never have this.”
“Rory. Jesus.”
He shrugs. “Just being honest. I’m not proud of it. I loved her, but I knew she was too good for me. And when people started to ask if we were going to get married, I braced myself and bought a ring. Never been more fucking terrified in my life. She said yes, but I was still scared, yeah? Had to get high to make it through the ceremony. I knew I was in over my head.”
Listening to this story makes me feel sick for a dozen reasons. I feel guilty about sleeping with Leila while Rory is basically mourning her.
Maybe Ishouldn’tfeel guilty, but I still do.
And I also feel jealous of Rory for everything they shared.
God, I don’t want to have these thoughts.
A man wanders up to the window for a beer, and I’ve never been so happy to see anyone in my life. I pour his drink carefully, with as much attention as I’d give to defusing a bomb. Anything to shut Rory up.
But when the man leaves, Rory starts talking again. “When things finally started to go downhill, I was almost relieved. It made more sense, you know? I knew I was on borrowed time.”
