My Professor(83)

“Tilt your head back for me,” the makeup artist tells her.

“Well this will all be worth it, I promise. You should see how pretty you look.”

Her phone buzzes on her lap with an incoming text, but since the makeup artist is working on her eyeshadow, Sonya passes her phone over to me.

“Read it for me, will you?”

“It’s from your mom. She says she was able to calm Linda down and everything is good to go. Who’s Linda?”

Sonya groans. “My great-aunt. She took issue with the fact that I didn’t seat her near my grandmother last night at the rehearsal dinner.”

“Surely she understands you’re trying your best.”

“You’d think, but no, she made a big fuss about it.”

“Well try not to worry about all of that now.”

“I won’t. Distract me. Have you talked to Cooper much since you’ve been here?”

Honestly, with everything else going on in my life, I didn’t adequately prepare myself for the fact that I was going to have to face my ex-boyfriend this weekend, and as if life wanted to rip the Band-Aid off for me right away, I saw him the moment I walked into the hotel lobby the day I arrived. He was still just as I remembered: the epitome of boyish charm with his messy blond hair and laid-back California surfer style. He was at the front desk alongside Samantha, checking in.

I paused just inside the entrance with my rolling suitcase, about to turn and flee back outside, but then Cooper looked over his shoulder and caught me, leaving me no time to scramble.

When he first registered me standing there, he didn’t smile. He was too stunned, and then, as if reminding himself to act normal, he gave me a little wave and a half-smile. I walked over—it’s not like I had a choice, I needed to check in as well—and endured the awkward meet and greet.

“Samantha, this is Emelia, my ex-girlfriend.”

Her eyes widened immediately. There’s no telling what she expected me to do, me, the woman Cooper was dating when he made her his mistress. If we were in a soap opera, there would have been an altercation that ended with a call for security.

“Now, just a friend,” I amended, trying to convey to her that there was no bad blood. My only objection to having to face Cooper’s new girlfriend was the inevitable bit of small talk we had to withstand after our introductions.

I could see the relief on her face once she realized this weekend wouldn’t be half as bad as she was expecting.

“So you’re living in Boston now?” she asked. “So cool. Did you come down for the wedding by yourself?”

“Yeah, just got in,” I said, pointing down to my suitcase.

“No plus-one?”

I smiled tightly. “Nope. I’m here alone this weekend.”

She took a half-step closer to Cooper, her fingers brushing his. The silent reminder was clear: I’m your girlfriend now, not her.

“He’s been fine,” I tell Sonya now. “I ran into him at checkin and again at brunch yesterday, but he was busy arguing with a waiter about the eggs they brought out for Samantha. I think she wanted them over easy and they brought her scrambled or something.”

“I hate her.”

I wince. “Don’t do that on my account. She’s fine.”

“Okay, then I strongly dislike her. You know it pains me to have her at the head table with us at the reception, but there’s no getting around it.”

“Seriously, I don’t care one bit.”

A knock on the door lets us know the photographer is ready to come in and snap photos of Sonya getting ready. The bridesmaids join us, along with her mom and cousins. The room is suddenly filled to the brim, and Sonya’s smile is ear to ear. I sit back and watch as sadness lingers in the periphery of my mood. I can’t help but miss my mother on days like this. She could have been my plus-one to this wedding. She would have loved to see me all dolled up. She would have told me how grown up I look, how beautiful and confident. And so, because she’s not here, I tell myself those things and try to believe them.

The wedding ceremony is outside, in front of the apple orchard. I walk down the aisle with Cooper then stand behind my best friend as she becomes a wife. White hydrangeas spill out of an arch Sonya and Wesley stand beneath to exchange their vows. I’m surprised by the tears that spring forth, enough that I have to bow my head for a moment and swipe under my eyes as Wesley promises to love and cherish Sonya forever.

A cocktail hour follows, and I’m careful to sip slowly on my one glass of champagne. I don’t want to make a fool of myself during my speech later. Even with all the guests in attendance, I feel adrift. I chat with old college friends for a bit; Annette and CJ are just as I remember them, living in California and Washington respectively and doing well. Sonya is pulled in every direction, chatting and smiling and posing for photos. Cooper and Samantha stay as far away from me as possible, which is actually preferable. I’m approached by a groomsman, Wesley’s cousin, toward the end of the cocktail hour, and he talks to me for a bit. He’s so handsome, tall, and refreshingly easygoing. The dimple on his right cheek never disappears, that’s how smiley he is. For a few minutes, I try to give him a chance, mostly out of curiosity. Can someone distract me from my obsession with Professor Barclay?

It’s almost amusing that I even try.