Save the Date

“Night, Charlie,” Bill replied, his voice already getting slow and sleepy.

I closed my eyes, then immediately opened them again—I had forgotten to call Siobhan back. I reached under the couch for my phone, only to see that it had died. But it was okay, I figured, as I pushed it back under the couch, since it was too late to call her now anyway. I’d just call her in the morning.

I lay back down and let my eyes drift closed. I could feel sleep starting to pull me under, and across the room, I could hear Bill’s breathing grow slower and more steady.

I was about to drift off when I heard feet pattering across the carpet. I opened my eyes to see Waffles sitting on the floor by my couch. I looked at him, wondering what he wanted and just praying that he didn’t need another walk. But a moment later, he jumped up onto the couch, turned around twice in a circle, and then curled himself in a ball in the space behind my knees, resting his head on my leg. And a second later, he started snuffle-breathing, and I had a feeling that I was the only awake one in the room—that both the dog and Bill had fallen asleep.

Even as I told myself that I probably wouldn’t sleep well—not with a dog on my legs and an assistant wedding coordinator next to me—I could feel my eyes drifting shut again and feeling my own breath start to fall into a pattern.

And the next time I opened my eyes, cool early light was streaming in through the room, and it was morning.

SATURDAY

* * *

CHAPTER 16

Or, Nothing Is Wrong!!!

* * *

I WOKE UP TO SOMETHING cold and wet pressing against my cheek. My eyes flew open, and there was Waffles’s blurry outline, his nose against my face, looking at me intently. “Jeez,” I said, wiping my face and scooting back against the couch cushions.

I put on my glasses and glanced at the couch next to mine, but it was empty, the blankets folded neatly and the pillow stacked on top of them. I reached for my phone to check the time and then remembered it was still dead. I’d just swung my legs down to the ground when Waffles looked up at the ceiling and started to growl.

I looked up as well, praying it wasn’t a huge spider—but there was nothing there. “What?” I asked him. But the dog was staring fixedly up at it, his eyes tracking something I couldn’t see, his growl getting louder. I watched him do this, wondering if this meant that, on top of a broken alarm, we now had a ghost.

I grabbed my sweatshirt from the floor and pulled it on as I walked across to the front hall, Waffles following at my heels. It was colder today than it had been yesterday—and I found myself wishing I’d brought some slippers with me as I continued into the kitchen.

I pushed open the door and saw Bill standing by the kitchen counter. “Hey,” I said, stepping inside.

“Hey,” Bill said, smiling wide at me. He was wearing jeans and a navy T-shirt with the green Where There’s A Will fleece I’d seen the day before.

“So,” I said, wondering how long he’d been up—he was dressed, after all, and certainly looked more awake than I felt. I just hoped I hadn’t kept him up, snoring or talking in my sleep. I crossed the kitchen to plug my phone in, and saw on the silver wall clock that it was just after seven. “How’d you sleep?”

“Not good.” This voice came from the kitchen table, and I looked over, startled, to see Max sitting there, hunched over. He had a long scratch on his arm that looked fresh—it was bright red.

“Oh,” I said, blinking at him as Waffles ran across the kitchen, ears flapping. “Um, are you okay? What happened to your hand?”

Max looked down at it, then immediately pulled his hand into his hoodie sleeve. “Nothing,” he said, too quickly. “I’m just . . . clumsy.”

Before I could ask for details, Waffles scratched at the door with one paw, then turned and looked at me. “You need to go out?” I asked, as though the dog were going to answer me. I opened the door and he tore into the backyard. As I closed the door, the alarm system let out three long beeps, then fell silent. “This is doing it when you close the door now?” I asked the kitchen in general. “What use is an alarm that goes off when you close the door?” I looked at the coffee maker, which was, sadly, both empty and quiet. And while I knew the basic mechanics of making coffee, I really wasn’t very good at it—something that was confirmed by people’s reactions whenever they drank the coffee I made. I headed to the fridge and pulled out a carton of orange juice instead.

“So, Max was just going to tell me something,” Bill said, widening his eyes at me as I crossed to the kitchen island with my juice carton.

“Is everything okay?” I asked, pouring my juice into a glass, even though I had a feeling it wasn’t. If everything was okay, Max wouldn’t be awake looking like he was about to throw up.

Max shook his head. “I think we have a problem.”

“That’s okay,” Bill said, giving him an I’ve-got-this smile. “That’s my job. I can fix any wedding-related problem as long as it doesn’t have to do with the weather. I have no control over the weather.”

“Can you make me a clergyman with a regular practice and a congregation?”

Bill paled. “Um. Maybe not.”

I just stared at Max. “Wait, what?”

“I thought it would be okay,” Max said, hunching down into his hoodie, like he was trying to disappear into it. “A lot of my friends have performed weddings, and all you do is sign up with this online church and you’re ready to rock and roll. My one friend Zeke did it on his phone as the bride and groom were walking down the aisle. It’s, like, not a big deal. And so, when Lin and Rod were talking about the wedding, I told them I’d be happy to do it—I mean, I was honored that they wanted me to do it. I mean, I’ve known them both forever, I introduced them—”

“Breathe,” I said. “Here.” I brought my still-untouched juice over to him, since on TV, whenever people were getting faint, they always seemed to be given juice. I figured it couldn’t hurt, at the very least.

“Thanks,” Max said, taking a gulp. I crossed back to the island and poured myself another glass, really hoping this wasn’t going where I had a feeling it was going.

“Okay,” Bill said, his brow furrowed. I could see that he was worried—though it seemed crazy that I’d be able to tell this after knowing the guy for just a day. But his voice was as cheerful and as ready-to-help as ever. “So you got ordained online, right?”

“I did,” Max said, rolling the juice glass between his palms. “And I thought I was good to go. But then yesterday during the rehearsal dinner, someone—maybe Rodney’s cousin?—was talking about how you can’t do the online-ordination thing in Connecticut. And I looked it up, and . . .” Max didn’t finish the rest of the sentence, just tossed back a shot of his orange juice like it was whiskey.

“It’s okay,” Bill said, his voice soothing, even as he exchanged a look with me that perfectly encapsulated what I was thinking. Namely, that this was bad.

“So,” I said, pouring myself some juice and taking a long sip, hoping all those hospital shows were onto something. “Who can perform weddings in Connecticut?”

Max pulled out his phone and looked down at it. “From what I can tell, you have to be an actual member of the clergy. Any type of religion, but that has to be like what you do. You can’t be a one-day online minister.”

“Oh,” I said, my hopes dimming. We weren’t religious in my family, and though Rodney didn’t bring it up often, what he had said led me to believe that he wasn’t a fan of organized religion. I had a feeling that neither he or Linnie would be thrilled to learn they were suddenly going to have a religious ceremony—if we could even find anyone to do it, day of. And would any sort of minister or rabbi worth his or her salt even be willing to step in and marry two heathens? Could they—did you have to be a part of that religion first? My head started to hurt, and I leaned back against the kitchen island.

“Wait,” Bill said, sitting up straight. “Isn’t Rodney’s father in the military? Can’t ship captains marry people?” He pulled out his phone and typed into it, then his face fell a moment later. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “It doesn’t count on dry land, apparently. I guess captains lose their power on land.”