Before I Do(67)

“Soul mates, hmmm.” He seemed to contemplate the question for a moment. “I read this article that said if you believe in soul mates, you’re less likely to be happy, you’re more likely to get divorced.”

“Really? How come?” Audrey asked, intrigued.

“Something to do with the fact that if you believe everything is destined, then when things get hard, you’re more likely to pull the rip cord. There’s a sense of, ‘I shouldn’t have to compromise on anything, because if it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be.’?” Paul shrugged. “People who don’t believe in that stuff work harder; they know going the distance will require effort. Love might be easy, but relationships can be hard.”

“Why did you break up with Miranda?”

Paul frowned; he looked thrown by the question. “Why does anyone break up?” he said.

“That’s not an answer. People break up for a million different reasons. I always thought you guys were so good together. I didn’t want to pry at the time because I was friends with both of you, but I’m still not clear what went wrong.”

“Are you asking me difficult questions because you don’t want to face everyone back at the church yet?”

“Maybe,” said Audrey.

“Fair enough.” Paul hung his head in his hands. “Miranda and I were great together, you’re right, but . . . I don’t know, she kept making these big assumptions about our future. She’d say, ‘When we live together,’ or ‘When we have kids.’ It bothered me. I wasn’t there yet, you know?” Paul leaned back against the tree, put down his tie, and started fiddling with a stray stick, picking the bark off it. “We were watching TV, some bride show, and she said, ‘When you propose, I definitely want you to get down on one knee.’ She caught me in the wrong mood, and I just lost it. I said, ‘I’ll propose however the hell I like, and why would you even assume I will?’ I overreacted. I didn’t know how to take it back, without saying I was going to propose one day.” Paul exhaled. “The stupid thing is, if she hadn’t kept going on about it, I probably would have. And now she’s here, with her ridiculously good-looking hipster boyfriend, and I want to shake him, I want to take him by the shoulders and say, ‘Do you know what you’ve got there? You lucky fucker.’?” Paul pinched his forehead. “It’s my own fault. Miranda told everyone we broke up because I was a ‘commitment-phobe,’ which pissed me off. I’ve never been scared to commit, not with her. I just wanted to do it in my own time, in my own way.”

“It’s not serious, between her and Fred,” Audrey said, shuffling up beside him and reaching out to link Paul’s arm in hers. “I think she misses you.”

“You think?” Paul’s eyes darted to her face, as though he was anxious to see if there was truth in what she was saying.

“If her getting ahead of herself was the only reason you broke up, then that’s crazy. You made each other happy.”

“What am I supposed to do? Get down on one knee?”

“Just talk to her. Tell her you miss her too.”

“Why are we talking about this now?” said Paul, getting to his feet and then helping Audrey up. “Classic Audrey, trying to divert attention away from herself by making other people look bad. You used to do it all the time when we lived together.”

“I did not!” Audrey said, gently punching him on the shoulder.

“You did. Whenever you felt too drunk, you’d always top up everyone else’s glasses to even out the average level of drunkenness in the room.”

“I didn’t think anyone noticed that I did that.” Audrey bit back a smile as they walked away from the trees, toward the church.

“Well, I noticed, and it’s not going to work here, Lavery. You can’t kill everyone else to make the reverend look less dead.”

Audrey hugged herself into Paul’s shoulder, grateful that he had been the one to find her.



* * *





Outside the church, the rain had finally stopped; the sun was beating down on the churchyard. Guests were milling about on the grass, talking in anxious, hushed voices. Baskets of confetti—dried roses from Debbie’s garden that had taken her all year to prepare—sat on the porch, untouched. Josh had been pacing but rushed over when he saw her.

“Audrey, where did you go? How’s your head?”

“Fine, I just needed some air.” He pulled her into a hug and kissed her forehead. “The poor reverend.”

“I know, I feel terrible.”

Audrey felt a rush of nausea, as though a backlog of bad karma was laying claim to her insides.

“We have to decide what to do,” Josh said. “The verger says he could call in a replacement reverend from town to finish the service. We could postpone the ceremony, get married after our honeymoon. Or we delay until Reverend Daniels is well enough to marry us. Either way, there’s food waiting at the hall. People are cold and hungry.”

“We should call a backup reverend,” said Debbie, joining in their conversation. “You can’t have a wedding without a wedding.”

“I don’t know, it feels disrespectful somehow, to replace Reverend Daniels,” said Audrey.