The Wrong Wedding Date

DREW

Drew has handled burst pipes, failed inspections, and a concrete crew arriving six hours early with nowhere to pour. None of those disasters began with Maya saying, “Okay, don’t get mad,” from the other side of his kitchen island, which is probably why the sentence makes every muscle between his shoulders tighten at once.

He sets the stack of printed travel confirmations on the counter and looks at her laptop bag, still hanging from one shoulder even though she’s been in his apartment for nearly five minutes. “You missed the part where saying that guarantees I’m getting mad.”

“Not mad, then. Weirdly calm and supportive.” Maya pulls out a stool but doesn’t sit. Her work clothes are wrinkled, her dark hair is twisted up with a pen shoved through it, and she has the bright, exhausted look she gets when three people are asking her for six impossible things. “Maybe proud. Proud would be nice.”

“Maya.”

“I can’t go Thursday.” She says it fast, then braces both hands on the counter as if he might try to overturn it. “Maren resigned this morning. Like, walked into the regional call, said she was done, and left her badge on Carter’s desk. They want me to take over the Seaboard launch, and the client moved the presentation to Friday because apparently everybody involved hates me personally.”

The first problem arrives fully formed. Her spot in the wedding’s group flight booking is nonrefundable, though the group rate allows a passenger-name change for a fee. Their flight boards a little after six Thursday morning. The resort room is a separate problem. Maya’s name is still attached to the wedding block, and according to the confirmation, guest changes have to be handled at check-in. Drew’s brain stacks each issue where it belongs before the actual meaning catches up.

“You can’t miss it?” he asks, already knowing the answer.

Maya’s expression softens. “This is the promotion, Drew. They’re not calling it that yet because corporations enjoy making people beg, but it’s the job. If I land this presentation, it’s mine.”

He drags a hand over the back of his neck and turns toward the refrigerator, where Tessa’s save-the-date has been pinned beneath a magnet for eleven months. His sister and Evan stand on a dock at Sable Cove with the water glowing behind them, both of them sunburned and laughing. Tessa has spent the last six weeks texting color-coded schedules and apologizing for texting color-coded schedules. She won’t care that Maya can’t come. She’ll care if Drew shows up distracted and lets their mother turn the weekend into a public investigation.

Maya comes around the island and bumps her shoulder into his arm. “I’m sorry. I really am. I wanted four nights of free drinks and watching you pretend we’ve ever been romantically interested in each other.”

“I’m glad my humiliation had vacation value.”

“Huge value.” She lets her bag slide to the floor, then finally sits. “But I’m not giving this up. I can’t.”

“I didn’t ask you to.” Drew means it, which doesn’t make the pressure in his chest ease. He looks down at the confirmations again. TESSA SULLIVAN AND EVAN BELL, printed in coral script across the top. Under the guest details, Drew Sullivan and Maya Torres share a room, a welcome package, and four months of bullshit he should’ve ended before any of it became official.

Maya watches him for a few seconds. “You know you can tell your mother the truth.”

“Tonight?”

“Ideally four months ago, but we’ve lost that window.”

He gives her a flat look and gathers the pages into a neater stack even though they’re already aligned. Four months ago, Kate Sullivan had invited a dental hygienist’s niece to family dinner without mentioning why a stranger was joining them. The niece had been nice. Drew had been tired. His mother had spent dessert listing the nice woman’s nice qualities while Tessa kicked him under the table, and somewhere between coffee and Kate saying he couldn’t meet somebody if he refused to try, he’d heard himself say he already had.

His mother had lit up. Tessa had narrowed her eyes. His father had kept eating pie.

When Kate asked who, Maya’s name came out because she was safe, familiar, and already in half the family pictures on Drew’s phone. By the time he got to the parking lot, his mother had texted Nana Jo, Tessa had threatened to call Maya herself, and the lie had grown roots.

“I’ll tell her Maya was never my girlfriend, I invented the whole thing because she wouldn’t stop setting me up, and now I’m arriving at Tessa’s wedding alone.” Drew taps the pages against the counter. “She’ll take that well.”

“Oh, she’ll be furious.” Maya accepts this with an easy nod. “But there’s a decent chance she won’t kill you during Tessa’s wedding because blood is hard to get out of champagne-colored linen.”

“Helpful.”

“I try.” She reaches for the confirmations, but he pulls them out of range. “You could also just say I got called into work. That part’s true. You survive the first day, tell Tessa privately, then tell everyone else after the wedding.”

Drew studies her face. “That was almost a plan.”

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

“It needs work. I’d have to get the airline to change the ticket, make sure Gavin can use the shuttle, deal with the room name when we get there, and tell Tessa before Mom announces I got dumped.” He counts the problems against his thumb without meaning to. “Also, you’re supposed to be in the formal pictures Saturday.”

“Oh, no. How will the Sullivans document an occasion without me standing awkwardly at the edge?” Maya presses a hand to her chest, but her smile slips when he doesn’t answer. “Hey. Tessa knows you love her. She’s not going to think you ruined her wedding because your fake girlfriend got a real promotion.”

“I know.” He picks up his phone and opens the airline app. Tessa has never treated him like the family’s unfinished project. She asked him to take the rings from Evan’s eleven-year-old nephew when the kid reaches the front and otherwise be useful when something inevitably goes sideways. Drew can handle that. Showing up with a lie big enough to steal attention from her, then blowing it apart beside the check-in desk, is what has his stomach tied in knots.

Maya leans over his shoulder. “Before you start canceling things, I might’ve found another option.”

His thumb stops above her ticket. “What option?”

“Technically, a person.”

“No.”

“You don’t even know which person.”

“That makes it worse.” Drew puts his phone facedown. The too-careful innocence on Maya’s face has never once led anywhere good. “Who did you invite to my sister’s wedding?”

“Invite is a strong word. You already paid for the seat and resort package, and I asked somebody if he wanted a nearly free Key Largo trip.”

He catches the pronoun, then the shape of her smile. There are very few men Maya would trust enough to drop into a family wedding on two days’ notice, and one of them spent last Christmas arguing with Drew for forty minutes about whether baseball players could survive one football practice.

“Absolutely not.”

“Dreeeeew.”

“Don’t do that.” He points at her with the travel packet. “Gavin’s not coming to Tessa’s wedding as you.”

“He’s not wearing my dress, if that’s what you’re worried about. Wrong color for him.” Maya slides off the stool and retrieves her bag. “He’s off this week. His summer clinic doesn’t start until next Wednesday, and you’ve known him for years. He can take the ticket, keep you from traveling alone, and help explain why I’m missing without making it look like you got abandoned at the airport.”

“I can travel alone.”

“I’m aware. You’ve got a laminated luggage tag and everything.” She hooks the bag strap over her shoulder. “You’re not scared of the plane, Drew. You’re scared your mom is going to ask one question and watch your face do that thing.”

He doesn’t need to ask which thing. “Gavin makes every situation worse on purpose.”

“Only when it’s funny.”

“He thinks I’m funny when I’m miserable.”

“So do I, and we’ve made it ten years.” Maya heads for the door as if the conversation is settled. “Call the wedding agent. The airline group booking lets them change the passenger name for a fee, and the shuttle’s tied to your room reservation. The hotel can fix my name when you check in.”

Drew follows her into the short hall. “You already checked?”

She stops with her hand on the lock and looks back at him. “Remember when I asked you to be calm and proud?”

“You asked for weirdly calm.”

“Right. Let’s circle back to that.”

Someone knocks before she opens the door, three solid hits followed by the scrape of something against the hallway wall. Maya’s smile gets wider. Drew closes his eyes.

“Tell me you didn’t.”

“I didn’t,” she says, already pulling the door open. “But only because you hate dishonesty.”

Gavin stands in the hall with a baseball cap turned backward over dark, slightly wavy hair and his car keys looped around one finger. He’s wearing old sneakers, gray shorts, and the kind of grin Drew usually sees immediately before losing an argument he never agreed to have. Gavin looks past his sister, takes in Drew’s expression, and leans one shoulder against the doorframe.

“Try to look happier,” he says. “I’m your emergency girlfriend.”