What He's Been Missing

“Put on my orange dress and watch him get married.”

“So you’re sure that’s what he wants?”

“I already told you, he’s made his decision. There’s nothing I can do about it,” I said. “I’m miserable. I just can’t believe he’s really going to marry her. He can’t see her bullshit. You know, I called the school to see about that program in the Congo.... There is no program. I think she made it up.”

“You called the school?” Journey grimaced like she now had the full picture of my foolery.

“I only called because I needed to know that I wasn’t crazy. I knew something was up with her.”

“Did you tell Ian?”

“No.”

“So what was the point? Now you know your best friend is marrying a woman who’s been lying about who she really is and you’re not going to do anything about it?”

“It’s too late. Anything I do now will look crazy,” I said.

“Maybe it’s not too late.” Journey looked at me mischievously.

“The wedding is next week,” I reminded her. “That’s too late. He’s not going to change his mind right now. The invitations are out. The families are on their way. It would take an act of God for him to call it off at this point.”

“Or an act of love.”

“No. There’s no way I’m putting my hand on that.”

“I’m not telling you to go break up the brother’s wedding,” Journey said. “Like I said before, I just want you to wait and listen. If he comes to you, be open to it . . . but you have to be present and available in case it happens.”

“So you’re saying I should avail myself to break up his wedding.”

“I’m saying you shouldn’t let him settle. And you shouldn’t let yourself settle. I know what that’s all about. I was there. It ain’t pretty,” Journey said, referring to her first marriage.

“How did you know, J, that you’d found the person who was worth risking everything for?”

“We loved each other equally. One day, I realized that the same way he was running to me, I wanted to run to him. I wanted him. He had to get me there, but I did. And I knew getting him wouldn’t be easy, but it was worth it. It’s all worth it. Life is too short not to take risks for love.”

Dame walked back into view and kissed Journey on the shoulder.

“Can I go to bed now?” he asked.

“After you give me some sugar,” she said.

They pecked and then Dame turned to me.

“Night, Rachel,” he said.

“Night, Dame.”

5

“Laisser Les Bons Temps Rouler”

#Don’tmixbusinesswithpleasure. I know I shouldn’t have. I probably shouldn’t have. But I did. Because I had to. And I was paying for it. The first—and consequently what I thought was the last—time I’d planned a wedding for a friend, it turned into an unpaid fiasco where my constant bickering with my godsister over her Louis Vuitton emblem theme that she insisted on splashing over every element of the wedding (including her bridesmaids’ dresses and her groom’s bowtie) led to an ugly court battle, the conclusion of our friendship, and some jail time (she cursed out the judge for siding with me and calling her wedding idea tacky). Still, here I was, on my way to the same altar. Or so it felt. There was less drama, but I had the same gut feeling. That I had to act. And that my action could be disastrous. Things could get ugly. I could lose a friend. This time my best friend. And who knew about jail time. Nothing could be predicted in the Big Easy.

I kept considering the possibilities on the flight into New Orleans with Krista. Everything felt wrong. And I needed to do what was right. But for whom? If Journey was right and I waited for the sign, the perfect time to open up to Ian about how I felt, I could fix it. I could have him. Make him see that I was what he’d been missing. But if I didn’t, if I stuck to the plan, did my job, and did what I was supposed to do, he’d go his way and I’d go mine—back to my lonely couch. More pizza. More NyQuil. Only this time, I’d know for sure what I could’ve had and who I could’ve had it with. The man of my dreams. My best friend. I couldn’t stand thinking of those odds.

In the car ride over to the hotel, Krista was turning through her stack of invoices and lists, last-minute changes Scarlet had called into the office before we left Atlanta. Krista kept pulling me in for a signature or response to something she was complaining or excited about, but I was in my head and she knew it. She didn’t even wait for me to respond.

“Dress is here,” she said once, clicking off her phone.