It Had to Be You Georgia Clark (bookstand for reading txt) 📖

17

Liv had just finished stacking the last of the take-home items in her Subaru’s trunk when someone appeared in her peripheral vision. Sam.

“Oh, hi.” Her stomach flipped. She ignored it. “What are you still doing here?”

“Tying up some loose ends. My first time on the job, wanted to make sure I got it all perfect.” He smiled at her, and his eyes did the crinkly thing she liked.

“You did a great job. Everyone was raving about the food, and perfect execution, timewise. That’s usually the hardest part.”

“Thanks.”

Liv shut the trunk. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Why’d you take this job? Given the horror stories you read about me online?”

He chuckled. “You don’t seem like a—what’d that review say?—demogorgon bitchface.”

Liv winced. “Oy vey.”

“Also, getting divorced is expensive. And it made me realize everyone deserves a second chance.”

He smiled at her again, and this time, she smiled back, not at all worried that she probably smelled like leftovers and cleaning spray. Something very small and tender emerged between them. A few Januarys ago, she and Eliot had rented a house in Maine for a week. One evening, they came across a deer in a clearing. For a couple of lifelong city dwellers, it felt akin to glimpsing a winged fairy. She couldn’t move, even breathe, for fear of frightening it away. Then Eliot’s phone rang, blasting his latest novelty ringtone: “Love Shack.” The deer leaped off through the forest.

Savannah appeared around the corner, arms laden with Dave and Kamile’s boxed gifts.

Sam’s eyes flickered from hers. “Better hit the road. Night, Liv.”

“Night, Sam.”

He fumbled the keys slightly as he unlocked his car.

What had just transpired? And did she want it to happen again?

She and Savannah settled back in the Subaru.

“Not too bad.” Liv shuffled through the loose CDs, selecting one by the Pixies, a band that formed over a decade before Savannah was an embryo. “Considering we only had two months. How are you feeling?”

“Starving.” Savannah sighed. “What I wouldn’t give for some honey-fried chicken.”

“There’s some food for you in the back seat.”

“For me?”

“Sure. I always ask the caterers to make up a plate for the people who don’t get to eat: the couple and us.”

“Wow. Thank you, Liv.” Savannah peeled back the aluminum foil. “Still warm!”

The car filled with the delicious smell of green-pea risotto. The other night, Ben asked if Sam could come over and cook it for them again. Liv said no, explaining Sam had already gotten the job.

By the time Savannah finished eating, they were on the highway home. The Pixies ended. For a few moments, they drove in silence.

Savannah turned to Liv. “Why are you a wedding planner?”

“Too old to intern, too young for social security.”

“No, really. If you’re so cynical about love, and such a feminist”—Savannah pointed at the pink pussyhat on the back seat—“how’d you end up a planner?”

Liv shrugged. “Everyone else does it so badly.”

Savannah didn’t say anything. She just waited.

“I guess I just never quit. Which is how a lot of people end up in their careers. And I might have cynical moments, but I’m not a cynic. Most of my weddings, even if they don’t last, are… beautiful. Life-affirming. And being a feminist wedding planner isn’t an oxymoron. Our whole thing was about bringing men into it, so it wasn’t just ‘women’s business.’ When Eliot was…”

Alive.

Out of the corner of her eye, Savannah nodded.

They drove in silence. The wedding’s success made Liv feel capable, but it also muted her emotions, leaving her cool and clear-eyed. If she didn’t do this now, it might never happen. “How did you meet?”

Savannah blinked, half asleep. “Who? Honey?”

“Is that what you called him?”

“Him?” As it landed, she straightened and looked at Liv, as if to say, Are we doing this?

They were.

“At work,” Savannah replied, nervous. “I gave Eliot a tour of our office.”

“The events company. Where you were an intern.”

Savannah nodded.

Liv swallowed. “What was he like? When you first met.”

Savannah directed her answer at her hands. “He seemed very… sophisticated, I guess. Being old… er. Older. From New York. And smart. He knew a lot of weird facts about Kentucky.”

“He always was a font of useless information.” Liv recalled the two of them in bed together, her with a novel by Margaret Atwood or Velma Wolff, him with a copy of The Best Bar Trivia. “And I guess he asked you out?”

Savannah nodded again.

This hurt. But in the way getting a shard of glass out of your foot did: pain, in order to heal. “Drinks?”

“Dinner.”

“And what was that like?”

Savannah sounded anxious. “Impressive. I mean, when I went out for dinner it was barbecue on paper plates and margaritas in plastic cups. He took me somewhere with white tablecloths and a valet.”

Eliot’s ability to disassociate was better than Liv imagined. Because how else could he enjoy dinner with a young woman while his wife and child were at home, oblivious?

“What was he like?” Liv asked. “Personality-wise.”

“He was… big.”

“Charming.”

“Yes.”

“Maybe a little manic. Scattered.”

“Yes.”

“And he made you feel like the most interesting person he’d ever laid eyes on.”

Savannah let out a soft breath. “Yes.”

Liv took it like a blow. “And so, dinner and then…”

“Liv.” Her name was a tiny sound, uttered toward the passenger window. Not even enough to fog the glass.

“Dinner and then…”

“I didn’t sleep with him after our first date, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“So after the second? Third?”

Savannah exhaled angrily. “Fifth, actually.”

Fifth. Well. “I slept with Eliot the first night we met.”

Savannah looked over. A small smile passed her lips. “Oh.”

“How many… I mean, how long did…” Liv braced herself. “How many times did you do it?”

“Five. And a half.”

Ugh. Eliot went to Kentucky ten times during his stint as a consultant for Savannah’s events company. Which probably meant they’d started dating the first or second trip. Liv tried to recall the sound of his voice when he’d call to speak with Ben—peppy? Relaxed? She couldn’t remember. She was too busy enjoying having the house