Avery

I only had two tiny bottles of red wine on the plane, and zero pills to help me sleep. Okay, I had four tiny bottles of red wine on the plane, and zero pills to help me sleep, but I also got almost no sleep. I didn’t text Luke until I had arrived at Heathrow, in case I chickened out and didn’t make it out of JFK. I went with a business casual text to his business phone.

Me: Hi there! Just arrived at Heathrow, heading to Bucket’s wedding. See you there?

I stood there in a corner of the terminal for five minutes, staring at my phone.

Luke: Welcome to London. See you there.

Okay. No exclamation points. No “darling.” But it was a response. I will see him there.

After changing into a simple blue dress and freshening up in the loo, I hopped into a cab and directed the driver to take me to St. James’s Church on Piccadilly. It was in the heart of Piccadilly Circus in the West End, which is basically the Times Square of London. A perfectly subdued and romantic location wherein I might quietly profess my love for Luke. Not.

To be honest, I had in fact purchased a large fancy black hat, like the one Andie MacDowell wore in Four Weddings and a Funeral. Because GO BIG OR GO HOME. But the thought of drawing that kind of attention to myself while I was about to lay my soul bare in public made me want to throw up—despite the option of using the hat to cover my face or swat Luke with it, should things go awry. And, since I was not a totally self-centered asshole, I was also there to support Buck and Ingrid at their symbolic United Kingdom nuptials. I had called Ingrid and told her that I would be able to attend after all, and she informed me that they had hoped and planned for me to change my mind and looked forward to seeing me again. I wondered if they would have me seated at the same table as Luke. I wondered if there would be dancing at the reception. I wondered why it was still called the United Kingdom and not the United Queendom. I wondered why they drove on the left side of the street here. I wondered why I hadn’t had more to eat on the plane, and why there was so much fucking traffic. If I didn’t make it to the church well before the ceremony I would have to wait until the reception to talk to Luke, and I didn’t even know if he’d be attending it.

I asked the driver if there was a faster way to get there, and he assured me that he would get me there on time, even though I never told him when I needed to be there. Still, I trusted him, in the way that Americans trust people with English accents because they sound so much smarter than us no matter what they’re saying.

He did get me there before the ceremony had started. People were still milling about on the sidewalk and in the courtyard in front of the church. I was probably the only person there carrying a large weekender bag, but I didn’t want to use a locker at the airport in case I’d need my things elsewhere, and I didn’t want to pay for a hotel room in case I didn’t need one—whether it would be because I ran back to the airport screaming and crying or because I spend the night in Luke’s flat—only a short amount of time would tell.

I scanned the crowd of polite, well-dressed people, and tanned, shaggy-haired surfers in suits. It was not difficult to guess who was a guest of the bride’s or the groom’s.

“Avery?!” I turned around and saw Natalie—my former assistant Natalie. In all my haste and turmoil I had completely forgotten to let her know that I would be coming today, and to be honest, I was very surprised that she was at the ceremony. She looked so much more grown-up and so much more Anglo-Saxon than when I’d last seen her in New York. She basically looked like Kate Middleton.

“Oh my God Natalie hi!” I quickly ran over to give her a hug. “So good to see you—I decided to come last minute. Have you seen Luke?”

“Um?” She was about to lean in and say something into my ear, but a handsome young man in a grayish blue suit approached us.

“Looks like they’ll be starting on time,” he said to Natalie, then nodded at me. “Hallo, I’m William.” Then he recognized me. He looked at Natalie, eyes widened. Natalie pursed her lips and nodded her head. “Oh bloody hell, you’re Avery aren’t you? Hi!”

“Hi, William, hi, have you seen?”

“Um, yeah, he’s uh…”

I looked around and spotted Luke, inside the back of the church. I felt my heart drop to my stomach, and just ran towards him, before I could change my mind. He was looking around, possibly looking for me. I tapped him on the shoulder. He looked so beautiful in his charcoal grey suit, and very serious. His eyes did not so much light up when he saw me, as they looked resigned. “Hi,” I said. “Can I talk to you, for a minute?”

“Of course,” he said, nodding. “I’d love to talk to you too.” He led me towards a corner, near the entrance. There were around two hundred people getting settled into the pews. There was the echoed rumbling of voices as people chatted and shuffled around—no one cared what that lady was saying to that man in the corner before the ceremony started, and no one would be able to hear—it was perfect. Luke put his hand on my arm for a moment, while I took a deep breath. “It’s good to see you,” he said, earnestly.

“Oh, it’s so good to see you.” I had to fight back tears. I hadn’t planned exactly what I’d say, because I didn’t want it to sound rehearsed or phony. And also because whenever I started thinking about it I got diarrhea. “I’ve missed you. So much.”

His eyes flickered and looked around the room, before giving me his undivided attention.

“Luke, I’m so sorry for the way I treated you before you left New York.”

“There’s no need to apologize, listen, I need to—”

“No I have to. I pushed you away, because I was scared, but that’s not an excuse. It’s been so long since I’ve been in a relationship. I mean, I’ve never been in a serious adult relationship. I might be really bad at it. I might be crazy. But you make me feel like the best possible version of myself, and I want to be good to you and I want to be with you. Whenever possible. Wherever. If you’ll have me…”

He exhaled and looked down. “Avery, I…”

“Luke?” said a throaty female voice from behind him. “We’d better find a seat, darling, they’re starting.” Italian accent. Calm. Elegant.

Fucking Chiara. It had to be. She was stunning and sexy, in that way that only Italian women can be. Her dark shiny hair was half-covered by a large fancy black hat. Just like the one that Andie MacDowell wore in Four Weddings and a Funeral. I kid you not. The way it looked on her, it made everyone else look dumb for not wearing a hat.

“I’ll be right there,” Luke muttered, his eyes fixed on me. “Avery.”

“Okay, right,” I said. “You’d better—I have to…”

“Avery, wait.”

“I just wanted to say that—I have to go.”

I ran. I ran out the front of the church, and waved to Ingrid as she stepped out of the back of a Rolls Royce, looking spectacular and graceful and gracious as ever. I heard Luke call out my name once, but I just kept running. I had no idea where I was going, I just had to get away.

Luke

Fuck fuck fuckity fuck. I couldn’t run after Avery, because I was by the entrance and the ceremony was literally about to begin. Bucket and his mates had taken their places at the end of the aisle, and Bucket had definitely seen me, and I could see Ingrid and her party out front. I pulled out my phone and sent her a text. Please don’t leave London. Come to reception after. Chiara n

I was not able to finish the sentence before sending it, because Chiara literally took my mobile from my hand and pulled me into a seat as the organ music began. Chiara had come to see me a couple of times in the past two months, and I’d gone out with her, in an attempt to keep myself busy. I felt numb. I’d let her yell at me and drag me around town on the weekend, but it felt like such a charade after my time with Avery. I’d told Chiara that I wouldn’t be able to join her in Corfu this particular weekend because I had to attend the wedding of a client, and then she just showed up at my flat two hours before I had to be at the church, and fifteen minutes later I’d received a text from Avery. I’d told Chiara that I had RSVP’d that I would be attending without a guest, but I could not shake her. Partly because she was a determined Italian woman, partly because I was a polite Englishman, and partly because all I could think about was what I’d wanted to say to Avery.

The ceremony lasted about half an hour. It was lovely. I’m quite certain. I could only imagine how Avery must have felt and where she might have gone. I kept looking down at my phone, in Chiara’s hand. Her other hand kept a firm grip on my knee, to keep it from bouncing up and down. When Bucket kissed the bride, I was the first person to jump to his feet and clap. I wrested my phone from Chiara’s grip and was among the first in line to congratulate the family and bride and groom as I made my way towards Piccadilly. I told Chiara I had to go and not to follow me. I no longer cared if I was being rude—Avery’s happiness was at stake. Chiara spat out some kind of elaborate curse in Italian. At least I knew she wouldn’t yell at me in a church. She hissed, “Don’t ever call me again!” and I said, “I think that’s for the best.”

Avery had not responded to my incomplete text. I sent her another one that said: Please call me. Where are you?

I sent her one more text: Darling. I’m coming to find you.

I was staring at my phone like a sulky, impatient teenager when I reached Buck in the lineup. I put the phone in my pocket and gave him a sincere hug. “I am so happy for you,” I said. “It was a beautiful ceremony.”

“I’m so glad you came! Where’s Ave?”

“I’m not sure, to be honest. She was here and then she wasn’t. I’m trying to find her.”

Bucket sensed high drama, and nodded. “Got it. Go to her, man. We thought it was so cool that you both put the same advice in your seashells to us.”

“Right, good,” I said. As if we’d done that intentionally. What do you know.

What I’d written on that piece of paper, as I watched Avery dipping her toes into the water, backlit by a pink and orange sunset, was this: Always say “I love you” whenever you feel it. Don’t wait for the right moment. The right moment is always now.