Page 47 of Fathers of the Bride

16

Andrew Lane

Miles was late.I waited for him outside Keswick and Associates. Their offices are midway up a mid-century building in mid-Wilshire. Luckily, they validate. I hoped Miles remembered that and wasn’t circling the block looking for nonexistent parking.

His being late was hardly an unusual occurrence. It had driven me insane for years, but now I wondered why. Los Angeles is a difficult city to get around. Not everyone has the presence of mind to leave an hour early to travel three miles. Maybe I’d been too hard on him.

Raj, on the other hand, is rarely late because he never goes anywhere, and when he does go somewhere it’s either on Sunset or Santa Monica and rarely more than six blocks away. Of course, he never walks—unless it’s at his trainer’s and he’s paying seventy-five dollars an hour for the pleasure.

Why exactly was I still with him?I mean, I certainly understood how the whole thing began: We met just at the point when I’d realized Miles and I would not be getting back together. And, well, there’s nothing that takes the sting out of the end of a relationship like dating someone two decades younger.

But why were we together a year and a half later? I think we both knew the relationship wasn’t going anywhere. Though, honestly, where was it supposed to go? It was a relationship, not a six-day budget tour of Europe.

We wouldn’t be getting married—Raj didn’t believe in it. And we wouldn’t be adopting any children—one was enough for me. So, this was it. We’d arrived at our destination. Which begged the question, was this where I wanted to be?

“What on earth are you doing out here?” Miles asked, as he came out the revolving doors.

“Waiting for you.”

“Why aren’t you waiting in the lobby?”

“I wanted some fresh air.”

“On Wilshire Boulevard?” he sniffed the air and made a face. “It’s not as bad as the nineties, but still, Andy.”

“Let’s just go in,” I said, just glad he’d arrived. Introspection was not a favorite sport of mine.

“You weren’t vaping, were you? Honestly, donotlet that child corrupt you.”

“Don’t call Raj a child. It makes my life sound pervy.”

“If the shoe fits.”

“Shut up.”

“I went to dinner with Avery and Kelly last night,” he said, as we crossed the lobby.

“How was that?”

“Sometimes I think she’s not really that in love with Avery. Which is a shame because I’m beginning to think he’s perfect for her.”

We were in front of the elevator banks. I pressed the call button. “Why do you think she’s not in love with Avery?”

“Something’s just off.”

“Because Kelly doesn’t really care about the wedding?”

“Well, yes. That.”

We got into the elevator. I pressed the button for 10, saying, “Being in love with someone doesn’t mean you instantly become interested in bouquets and invitations and catering and sixties cover-bands.”

Miles looked at me like I was confused. Then he said, “I loved both our weddings. I thought you did too.”

“I did love them. I loved them because you loved them.” And they were also very, very nice.

The elevator door opened, and Miles slapped me lightly on the upper arm saying, “Don’t make me cry before we see the accountant.” As though crying after we see the accountant would be any more acceptable.

“How much money are we getting?” he asked.