Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 63862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
I kept scrolling, seeing the engagement ring on my finger in a hand that was entwined with his.
There was the dress, which was a picture taken of me by Harrison. I could see him reflected in the mirror behind me as I stood outside of the dressing room.
My heart felt like it was pounding out of my chest.
Why hadn’t I thought to look for any of this sooner? Maybe I wouldn’t have felt so damn confused about how the wedding happened if I had seen the progression of us over the night.
There was another image of us in the backseat of a car, my legs draped over his lap, my head on his shoulder.
I felt a squeeze in my heart, like some part of me remembered that moment, even if no memories surfaced.
There were a bunch of weird, random short videos of him, of me, of us laughing or eating. I could practically see myself getting drunker with how the camera panned around at a nauseating speed.
The last video showed a familiar room.
The tile in the bathroom of Harrison’s hotel suite.
I hit the video and felt my air rush out of me as past-me turned the phone.
Then I was looking into my own face. My makeup was a little smudged, my eyes red. But I seemed lucid.
“Hey, future me. If you’re confused and watching this…don’t panic.”
Alone in Harrison’s apartment, I snort-laughed.
“I know this looks insane. Like really crazy. But I need you to listen.” I paused, looking at the bathroom door like I heard something.
When I spoke again, my voice was a little lower.
“I’m drunk,” I confessed unnecessarily. “But I’m not drunk-confused. I’m drunk-honest. And if I’m honest, I think we both know we’ve been waiting our whole life for someone who doesn’t feel like a risk.” I paused, laughed a little. “Which is ironic, I know. But Harrison? He doesn’t feel like a bet, like a chance. He feels like a sure thing. He is a sure thing.”
I turned to smile at the door where I heard Harrison call my name.
“One sec!” I called. Then, back to the camera, “We didn’t marry him because it was Vegas. And if you’re watching this all mad at him, don’t be. He didn’t pressure us. He didn’t even ask twice. We said yes because this was the first thing in our whole life that didn’t feel like a gamble. It felt safe. He feels safe.”
I paused again, then exhaled hard. “So if future-me is being stubborn and trying to undo this, past-me is here to tell you that you’re doing it because you’re scared. Not because it’s wrong. So, yeah, stop being a chickenshit. Now, I have to get all this butter off of me…”
The video ended right there.
Casually.
Like it didn’t just rip the rug out from underneath me.
Yes, I was drunk in the video. But I was also very clear, very sure. I wasn’t slurring or being crazy. I knew exactly what I was saying. What I was, perhaps more importantly, feeling.
Was some cynical part of me still struggling to understand what had transpired to make the two of us so certain about the literal rest of our lives? Yeah, of course.
But there had been something.
And it wasn’t just the tequila.
And it wasn’t just me.
Harrison, who by all accounts was a calm, rational, careful man, had also made this decision.
Something had felt right.
Maybe if I hadn’t spent the last few weeks trying to believe otherwise, I might have let myself see the things that past-me had seen so quickly.
I sat down on the bed.
And hit play again.
And again.
And again.
And that, that was exactly where Harrison found me some time later.
“I thought you left,” he said, voice small.
“I was going to.”
“But?” he asked, stepping closer.
I patted the spot beside me. There was only a short hesitation before he sat down.
“But I found this,” I told him.
Then I hit play.
I didn’t watch the video.
I knew it by heart.
I watched him watching the video.
And I saw him melt, everything softening except the little creases by his eyes, which only etched deeper as his smile spread.
“I was wondering why you were in there so long.”
He hit it one more time, and I watched him watch it through again.
Then flip through some of the other pictures and videos.
“We had fun,” I said, more from the proof than memory.
“We did. My only regret is that you don’t remember it.” He handed me my phone back. “If I realized the liquor would wipe your mind, I would have cut you off.”
“I don’t know what I was thinking. I don’t drink that much.”
“We were celebrating. I think the tequila works slow on you. You were completely normal. Until, suddenly, all at once, you weren’t.”
“Yeah, gin is sneaky like that with me too.”
“Can I ask you something?” he asked.
“Yeah, go ahead.”