When I’m out of the shower, my phone is charged enough for me to use it, but there are no new calls or texts from anyone, not even Mom. The more I think about what I said to her, the deeper the hole in my gut goes. I meant it … but that doesn’t mean that I should have said it.

I hurt everyone. That’s what I do best, I suppose.

And right underneath that is being late.

I dress in a T-shirt and jeans, pulling my shoes on at the door and grabbing my suit bag. Racing down the hallway, I barely catch the elevator as the doors begin to close.

“Hold it!” I shout, and a hand reaches out, catching the doors. “Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

Josh stands on the opposite side of the elevator.

I should’ve let this one go.

I thought a lot about everything that I would say to Josh last night, going over all my feelings in my head, preparing my arguments that might help me come out the other side with at least a shred of dignity. But being in front of him now, I’m unprepared. I figured we’d talk after the wedding, when things were a little less stressful, maybe at the reception.

An elevator doesn’t exactly seem like the best place to talk about everything that happened.

“Big day,” I say, my words so soft that I’m scared he won’t hear them at first.

But he does.

“Yeah. Ready for it to be over?”

“Definitely.”

I hate how far we’ve gotten from each other.

“Where’s Wyatt?” he asks. “Still getting ready?”

I decide to be honest for the first time in a long time—although I’m also mindful that Wyatt didn’t want me to share their new pronouns with anyone else.

“Um … no. He left last night.” I still hate using Wyatt’s incorrect pronouns.

“Oh. That’s a bummer.”

“Yeah.”

Josh shuffles his feet. He looks good in his suit. I’m not sure why he’s expected at the wedding so early; maybe it’s just easier to be down there with Zach.

I realize: This is my moment. The longer it stretches on, the longer we’re in the elevator, I can feel that this is when it’s supposed to happen.

I just don’t know how to start the conversation.

I stand there, silently hoping that the elevator will take on more people, but it doesn’t. It’s just the two of us as we make it to the ground floor, the doors sliding open.

“Guess I’ll see you at the ceremony, then?” Josh says, giving me a short wave as he walks out of the elevator.

I stand there, watching him for so long the doors threaten to close on me.

I stop them with my hand and shout, “Josh! Wait!”

He turns, watching as I stride toward him.