THE END OF ALMOST

"We liked Josh, sure, but you'll find someone else even better," my mom rambles on. "You've always been so independent. Always."

"Mhmm." I stare at her from the passenger seat.

"He always seemed too formal all the time, you know? Calculating everything."

"Uh-huh," I nod. "Calculating, sure."

I smile to myself the whole time, mainly because I know she's lying. She loved Josh. My dad too. It's their parental duty to play it down now. She trash-talks Josh for another five minutes before the car finally slows to a stop.

"Have fun. Don't be out too late, hun. We are having breakfast in the morning, remember?" She asks.

"Right mom. Not too late. Thank for the ride!" I peck her cheek before sliding out of her car.

Whit is the first person I see in the backyard. I'm still out front, admiring the Brooks' house in all its glory, but I can see her long brown hair from a distance. Alex comes into view, snaking his arm around her waist and pulling her in for a kiss.

It's my favorite time of day. Dusk. Twilight. Dreamstate. Whatever you want to call it.

As I move down the boarded walkway, the torches brightening the path, it hits me that I'm about to be one half of the only non-couple at this party. I'm tempted to turn and run, but then I see three girls I don't know. Must be other bridesmaids.

I turn the corner and see Trix and Lauren on the stairs. I see Mrs. Brooks pouring glasses of iced tea. And about 20 other people I've never met before. Relief floods, surging through my veins along with the preemptive Excedrin I took. Predicting an emotional massacre, apparently.

Lauren pulls me into a hug.

"You look stupid gorgeous," I tell her once she releases me.

"Right?" Trix says. "This dress is to die for."

"Stop, stop. This is nothing," Lauren says, dismissing her floor-length, clingy, draped-cowl-back gown. "Wait 'til you see THE dress."

"Almost the big day!" I say excitedly.

"The last almost!! End of almost," she laughs. "Ah, there's my aunt. I must go!"

I watch her dance away in a V Trix manner.

"Was she-?"

"Absolutely buzzed? Stoned maybe?" Meg says, walking up to me and Trix.

"Definitely," Trix says, laughing.

"Ugh, so glad you came," Meg says, nudging me.

"We did have our doubts," Trix jokes.

And I know why.

"Let's not go there, please. Not here." I narrow my eyes at them in warning.

"Come, let's grab drinks," Meg says.

I follow them through the crowd, saying hi to Whit and Alex when I see them. And hugging Brody and even Mrs. Brooks when she spots me from across the flagstone patio and practically runs to me.

No Brooks.

Then again, no Nate or Travis either yet. They must be altogether somewhere. Likely getting drunk or high. It would certainly explain Lauren's current physiological state.

I'm glad I decided to dress up for tonight. My off-the-shoulder cardigan dress and boots is the perfect vibe. It's giving major Sweet Home Alabama.

Trix thrusts a wine glass into my hands. And 10 minutes later, I'm invested in the revelry of the night. The sky is still bright on the horizon, the sunset lingering extra-long for us tonight. The brisk air is perfectly earthy and sweet. Smells like Halloween.

Trix and Meg leave me at the stairs that lead to the garden, mumbling something about baby monitors and bathrooms. I watch them disappear into the throng and then turn to find a quiet spot to sit, second glass of wine in-hand.

A cracked stone bench tucked between two trees seems like the perfect place to catch my breath. My boots dig into the sandy grass, leaving little indents behind me. I'm about to pull off the great escape. Tempted to Irish goodbye.

"Hey." Brooks's voice catches me off-guard.

I almost choke on my wine. Brooks emerges from the opposite side of the light wooded area next to their house, materializing out of air like I'm in some fantasy novel. I wonder if Travis and Nate are right behind him. Maybe he was in there with a girl. A bridesmaid.

"Sorry, didn't meant to scare you," he says, smiling.

I'm kind of dying inside. And by kind of dying, I mean I'm already dead.

"You didn't," I blurt out, the wine finally seeming to kick in.

"I saw you walking over and I was trying to think of a line, but then I just panicked," he says, shrugging.

"And went with 'hey'," I laugh.

"I've missed that," he says, looking down at me. "Mind if I sit?"

I look up at him from my spot on the ledge, I rake him in -everything from his dark hair, even shorter now, to his forest green sweater and dark pants. I notice the edge of a new tattoo I don't recognize peeking from beneath his collar.

"Sit, please." I gesture to the vacant space beside me.

He sits and almost instantaneously my body perks up, sensing his proximity.

"You look... Unbelievable," he says.

"Panicking for lines again?" I tease.

Brooks's laugh fills my ears. I heard it only weeks ago but it sounds so much better in person. A laugh is turning me on right now. I'm beyond unwell.

I've never concentrated so hard on holding a plastic wine glass before -not because I'm worried I'll spill it, but because I'm hoping it will help quell another focus.

"Great party," I say. "Just imagine what the wedding will be-"

"Why didn't you tell me?" Brooks blurts out.

I know what he's asking -what he means. But I don't know what I should say and I'm still mulling over my reaction when he speaks again.

"I mean, I'd have liked to know," Brooks says, swigging his beer.

"Would you have?" I raise my eyebrow.

"Why do you ask it like that?"

"If you'd have liked to know, why didn't you ask?" I question him.

"Fair," he admits. He shakes his head, his lips curling into his stupid smirk. "I was focusing all of my energy on not talking about him that night."

"Same," I laugh behind my wine glass. "He was going to be my last resort topic. You know, in case we ran out of things to talk about."

"Because we've ever had that issue," Brooks states, incredulous.

"No, I guess not," I smirk. Look away, Emmy. "But it was a while -Since we talked like that, I mean. For all I knew, maybe you lost your conversational skills."

"I was worried the same about you. In fact, I was surprised you weren't first to ditch that call," Brooks says.

"Yea?" I ask. "I seem the type to run and hide?"

"No." Brooks answers almost too quickly. "Maybe, lately."

"Fair," I laugh.

"I just wish I'd known, because I wouldn't have kept it so PG." Brooks raises his beer to me.

"Brooks!" I smack his arm. "See you haven't changed at all."

"Stop! Stop!" He laughs, fending me off. "I was only joking. I only meant I'd have introduced explicit songs into the conversation. R rated movie references, you get it."

"Funny."

I roll my eyes at him. He tosses his head back and laughs. I'm aware that I've moved inches closer to him on the bench since he's sat down.

"Not that I'd trade that conversation for anything," he says quietly.

The way he looks into my eyes right now, under the tree canopy, beneath the stars, ocean waves lolling yonder, string lights bathing the scene in yellow, it's enough to make a 30-year-old girl swoon. I am talking who needs a romcom when this is your life type of swoon.

"You were only in it for the secrets," I joke. "Trying to collect dirt on me."

"Will you tell me a secret now?" He asks, eyes dark.

"Now? Here?"

"Yes," he nods his head.

"Depends what it is," I answer coyly.

"Why didn't you tell me, Ems? I mean why didn't you really tell me?"

"Jay-"

"How do you do that?" He asks abruptly. "Decide when to use my first name?"

"I- What?" I shake my head at his question, but I know what he means.

"I have a theory," he says, draining his bottle and discarding it in the grass at his feet. "I'm Brooks until I'm real. Or until it's real. And then I'm Jay. And I can always tell you're going to stop me when you start calling me Jay."

"I don't think it's that deep," I lie. A stupid grin parts my lips at the she-said joke there.

We are so close now -leaned in far like two 13-year-olds bracing for a first kiss. I think I see Trix's red hair blur by on the deck. I think I feel eyes on us. I find myself paralyzed, torn between wanting someone to come rescue me from this conversation and wanting to elope with Brooks right now.

My prayers are answered by way of Brody.

"Hey guys, hate to interrupt," he says, truly looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. "We are bringing the food out in five."

"Sounds good," Brooks says without removing his eyes from mine.

"Thanks," I say, likewise.

"To be continued," Brooks whispers above my head. His breath is so close to my ears I can feel its warmth.

"That's what you think," I whisper back.

I wonder what we are to each other in this moment.

Infatuated. Beguiled. Enamored. Spellbound. Throw the fucking thesaurus at us.