“Lucky guess,” I answer.

We sink deeper into the chair and he brushes the front strands of my hair off my face as he kisses me. Despite his gentleness, he still seems somehow absent.

“Are you sure you’re...” He cuts me off with a searing kiss and I’m lulled into a state where I forget my worries. Right now, in my head and my heart, nothing exists outside of us.

17

Cristina and Jason’s wedding is more beautiful than I ever could have imagined. The venue, Manhattan Penthouse on Fifth, seems perched above the world, with the arched windows revealing jaw-dropping views of the Freedom Tower to the south and the Empire State Building to the north. Flowers and candles are everywhere, mixing seamlessly with the elegant but modern decor.

The ceremony drifts by, smooth as a dream as Cristina floats down the aisle to Canon in D, played live on a solo acoustic guitar. Jason has noticeable tears in his eyes as he watches her walk towards him, and I can only thank the Lord that I wrapped tissues around the base of my bouquet because I needed every single one plus twenty-five more.

They recite traditional vows and I try not to melt as Ryan steals looks at me as they speak them. I can’t stop from thinking that maybe, one day, this could be us—that we could have this.

After the ceremony, we take pictures in the street, working through the cocktail hour. We pose in every scenario humanly possible and then some. Ryan and I are never paired together since I’m matched up with the best man, Jason’s balding but very nice older brother. At one point I stand next to Ryan for a group shot and he holds my hand behind our backs, leaving me feeling as nauseously excited as I did the first time a boy held my hand in a movie theater when I was thirteen.

Cristina and Jason are now having their first dance as all two hundred and eighty guests circle the dance floor, smiling and catching the eyes of their dates—enjoying watching how in love they are.

I’m about to go on the hunt for more tissues when I feel a familiar hand on the small of my back.

“What’s the verdict, Sullivan? You think they’ll make it?” Ryan’s breath is warm on my ear as he leans in close. He smells like shaving cream, whiskey and home.

I keep watching Jason and Cristina and breathe in deep. “Of course they’ll make it.”

“What makes you so sure?”