He blushes, just the tiniest bit. “Thank you.” His reaction is so sweet, I make a mental note to try saying something nice to him againsometime.
I catch sight of our reflection in the mirror as we’re leaving and my brain thinks: “what a beautiful couple,” before realizing that it’s Scott Braddock andme.
It’s not a verylong walk from our hotel to the zoo in Central Park, but it feels longer because I’m wearing four inch spiky heels. He holds my hand, and doesn’t rush me. There are still some cherry blossoms left on the trees, and the early evening temperature is perfect for a sleeveless dress and Pashmina shawl. My armpits aren’t even sweating! New York Me doesn’t get anxious. Scott informs me that the ceremony will be non-denominational. His cousin Natalie is his father’s sister’s daughter. Her family is Upper West Side, his is Upper East Side, and he babysat her a few times when he was about fifteen and going through an awkward growth spurt. She moved to London to be with William over a year ago, and she hadn’t even met him in person beforethat.
“Seriously?”
“They just FaceTimed and talked on the phone and texted. But it worked out. That’s what I love about Nat, she’s the most grounded spontaneous person Iknow.”
It seems like everyone besides me is just going off and falling in love without restraint. What is up withthat?
“It’s so perfect that she chose the zoo for the wedding, because it’s uptown so our family can’t complain about the location, and it’s offbeat while still being a formalvenue.”
“And there arepenguins!”
“Yes, but the weddings are set around the sea lionpool.”
There was a time, not long ago, when I would have fantasized about pushing Scott into a pool of sea lions. But tonight I think I’ll keep him by myside.
“Anyway, a lot of my dad’s side of the family will be here. I wish you could meet my mom’s side. They’re nicer, but you know. It would be at a Catholicchurch.”
“They’reEuropean?”
“Very.”
“But your relatives in Cornwall are on your dad’s side,right?”
“Yes, but I doubt they’ll be here. They don’t like to leave their little corner of the world. My grandparents lived there and died there. It’s really too bad they can’t be here today—they would have loved knowing that one of us married an Englishman. Even though they hated London. You would have liked my grandmother, she was a grumpy old lady likeyou.”
I punch his shoulder with my free hand, though I can’t make much of a fist because I’m holding onto my tiny clutchhandbag.
When we enterthe zoo area of the park, suddenly everyone has perfect hair and is in tuxedos and cocktail dresses with pashmina shawls. There is a string quartet playing a Sinatra song and servers offering trays of champagne. It couldn’t be more New York-y.
“We’ll need these,” Scott says, grabbing a couple of flutes of champagne. He hands me a glass and raises his to me. “Thank you again for beinghere.”
“Cheers.” I clink glasses with him. The champagne is cold and tangy and just what Ineeded.
A small male human, about seven years old, suddenly runs towards Scott yelling “Brad! Hi Brad!” and wrapping his arms around Scott’s legs. “Hi Brad BradBrad!”
Scott makes a big show of looking around, and says “I wonder if my young cousin Christopher is comingtoday.”
“I’mhere!”
“I hope not, because he’s reallyannoying.”
“You’reannoying!”
“You’re really lucky you don’t have to meet him, Erin, he thinks he’s so cool and funny but he’s really not cool andfunny.”
“You’re not cool! You’re not funny! Brad BradBrad!”
Scott is having trouble keeping a straight face, and I’m having trouble keeping myself from pushing this kid out of the way and kissing Scott’s face allover.
A lovely middle-aged woman in a red dress tiptoes over in heels. “Christopher, let go of his legs! Hi Scott, sorry. Somebody’s had a little too much sugartoday.”
Scott finally looks down at the boy. “Oh hi Christopher.” Christopher finally lets go of his legs and sticks his tongue out at him. “Anna,” he says to the mother. “This is my good friend and writing partner Erin Duffy. My aunt Anna—married to my father’sbrother.”
“Oh how nice to meet you,” she says to me. “I didn’t know Scott had a writingpartner.”
