James wants a marriage with someone he loves more than life, and he wants that with me.

My eyes clench shut at the veracity of my thoughts. It makes my heart swell with pride that he'd want me to be his wife.

Opening my eyes, I steel a look at Natalie. I think she's realizing how honest her confession is, which is how I see it. It takes strength for her to let go and admit her father loves me in ways he didn't her mother. They're her parents, and I would bet it's caused her to question things she hasn't told me yet.

Natalie continues, though her tone is gentle. Sympathetic. "If I was a reason you were holding back from marrying him, and we already confirmed you didn't cause the loss of your family, what’s really going on?"

We're both quiet for a moment until I look away with embarrassment. I have a great man who wants to make me his wife, he wants to give me the world, and I said no.

"Me. I guess it's just me." I let out a dramatic sigh over my stupidity. "I'm dumber than a box of rocks."

She offers me a somber smile that clenches my heart. Melancholy doesn't complement her.

"Yeah. This isn't any regular relationship, so there's no manual to reference. Look at how you met him up until now. Sometimes weird shit, like marrying your John who's also your best friend's dad, is meant to happen."

I glance at her and we both bust out laughing. "Yeah, maybe in some alternate universe."

"Yolo," she says quickly. Natalie picks up the tequila bottle and takes a swig, then hands it to me. "Cheers to you becoming Mrs. Aubrey Riviera. I'll never call you mommy, so don't get any ideas."

The shot doesn't make it down. It gets stuck in my throat and I choke. Mrs. Aubrey Riviera. My eyes widen as fucking tequila spills from my mouth and my nose. It hits the ground with a splat. I reach out and Natalie takes the bottle, then moves next to me.

"Lift your arms above your head," she says.

I don't question her, I just do it. The burn of the tequila effectively sears off the skin in my nostrils, while simultaneously making me feel like I have a horrible case of strep throat. I turn my face into my bicep and cough into it. My eyes are watering, and I squeeze them shut.

"Bend over and put your head between your legs."

"What?" This time I manage a brief confused-as-fuck look at her.

Eyes wide, Natalie yells, "Just do it!"

Eighteen

I do and she scoots closer so she can pat my back and rub circles over it.

"My mom used to do this to me when I had croup as a kid. This angle is supposed to help when you're choking and can't breathe. Take small breaths and focus."

I'm perched on the edge of the lounge chair with my knees spread wide and my body bent over, my arms still in the air. I feel like an idiot sitting like this, and I can't tell if this is helping or not with how far I'm leaning over. I feel like I'm blocking my airways, not opening them up. Once the coughing subsides and my eyes aren't watering anymore, I sit up.