In a New York Minute(92)

“Will you look at this guy?” Eleanor said, taking the glass of water out of my hand with an adoring smile. “The best work husband in the world.”

She turned toward me as Henry entertained the group with a story about the time he broke his leg while skiing with Perrine, Eleanor, and me.

“You look nice,” she said, eyeing my outfit.

“Thanks,” I said, running my hands around the collar and adjusting it just so. “I actually bought it for tonight. You would be horrified to know how many suits I tried on trying to pick out the right one.”

“Oh, I can imagine,” she teased. “Trying to impress someone?”

“Yeah, I am,” I said with a nod. My suit was the darkest shade of forest green, and it had reminded me immediately of Franny’s eyes. I’d paired it with a white shirt and no tie. I’d thought way too much about it.

“I assumed so, but it’s nice hearing you admit it,” she said, and then raised her glass. “A toast to you, Hayes Montgomery. I hope you get the girl.”

Just as our glasses connected, I saw Eleanor’s eyes perk up at something over my shoulder.

“And now’s your chance,” she said, with a discreet tip of her chin. “Back and to your right.”

I turned around slowly, and there she was, only twenty feet away. She was standing next to Cleo, laughing at something someone was saying. I could only see her profile, but even from the side she was beautiful, a black silk dress hugging her in all the right places.

I turned back to Eleanor, who just tilted her head toward Franny with a firm “Go!” It was an order. But before I could even take a step toward her, a clinking of glasses sounded around the room.

Everyone turned to face the front of the bar, where Lola and Perrine stood, arms wrapped around each other in the most assured way, so confident of their love and their life together to come. I knew this meant it was time for my toast, and so I hustled toward them as the crowd erupted in cheers—the brides-to-be were kissing—and made it next to them right as the bartender leaned over to hand me a microphone.

The crowd quieted, and I took a deep breath and then exhaled it slowly, just like the meditation app on my phone instructed me to do. Then I raised my glass.

“I’m so honored to be a part of tonight’s celebration, and to offer a toast to the future brides,” I said into the microphone. I took another slow, deep breath, then a sip of scotch. I felt a little better.

“I’m Perrine’s cousin Hayes, though she’s always felt more like a sister to me. Growing up together meant that I got used to having her around, and honestly, I took Perrine and all her amazing qualities for granted. You know, like her sarcastic sense of humor, how she always offers to drive you to the airport, and how she somehow manages to burn every single bag of popcorn she puts in the microwave.”

This got a laugh from the crowd, and I smiled, shifting a bit. I was finding a groove, and it was starting to feel good. As I talked, I scanned the crowd for Franny’s face, but I came up empty.

“But the one thing I’ve never taken for granted is her ability to love. She is kind, and generous, and she gives all of herself to the people she loves. And nowhere is that more evident than when she’s with Lola.”

There was a collective “ahh” from the crowd, and then the room was tinkling again with the sound of people tapping their glasses with silverware. The brides-to-be kissed again, and everyone responded with applause. I raised my glass toward them, and the crowd followed along. If we stopped to do this every few seconds, we’d all be drunk by the end of my toast. I pushed on.

“And, Lola, it’s been so fun getting to know you not just as Perrine’s fiancée, but as a friend as well.”

Lola stuck out her bottom lip and pressed a hand to her heart, mouthing “Thank you” at me.

“There’s a line in the movie Moonstruck”—I paused, nervous about this part of my speech—“which a very smart person once told me is ‘the greatest New York love story of all time.’”

I searched again for Franny in the crowd as I talked, but I couldn’t find her anywhere.

“Nicolas Cage’s character says, ‘Love doesn’t make things nice—it ruins everything. It breaks your heart. It makes things a mess. We aren’t here to make things perfect. The snowflakes are perfect. The stars are perfect. Not us.’ Well, you, Perrine and Lola, are as close to perfect as one couple could get. So let’s all raise a glass to love, as messy and imperfect as it can be.”

And in that moment, as everyone around us was raising glasses and cheering, I spotted Franny, off in the back. Her eyes found mine, and I held her gaze, tried to transport everything I felt for her across the room with that one look. God, she was so beautiful.

I blinked and looked away, stepping back and bumping into Lola.

“Nice job, future cousin-in-law.” She leaned in for a hug. “You almost made me cry. Almost.”

“I’m going to assume that’s a compliment,” I teased.

She nodded and gave me an affectionate poke in the shoulder before turning back toward Perrine, which meant I could keep trying to make eye contact with Franny. I looked toward where she’d been standing, but she was gone. I panic-scanned the room and saw her hugging Cleo before walking toward the door. Crap.

I wove my way through the cluster of guests, smiling and nodding at people as I tried not to spill on anyone while also moving as fast as I could in a dimly lit restaurant. By the time I made it past the host’s desk up front, Franny was long gone, and I braced myself for the disappointment to come. I pushed the glass door open and stepped out onto the sidewalk.