Page 5

Gracie

It's been three days since I tried finding a wedding date through Holidates, and so far, no matches. I’m about to throw my phone out of my fourth story apartment window because it’s been buzzing relentlessly with messages from my sister, demanding to know who my plus one will be.

Hannah: Gracie, you need to give me a name for that place card! You said you had one, and now all I need is the name!

I sigh, feeling the walls close in as I remember Thanksgiving dinner just a few hours ago. The belly is still full of turkey, now accompanied by a slight bitterness of regret. My family didn't hold back, interrogating me about who I'd be bringing to my sister's wedding. Their well-intentioned concern felt suffocating.

My thoughts are a whirlwind of anxiety as I contemplate my options. I know I have to give them a name soon, but who?

Feeling the pressure mounting, I call Eira. She’s the only one who might help me find a solution. She’s already tried so hard with setting me up on those horrible blind dates, but she’s still my last hope.

"Hey, Gracie! What's up?" Eira answers.

"Hi. I'm in a bit of a bind," I admit, trying to keep the desperation out of my voice. "You know how I need a date for my sister's wedding? Well, I kind of told them I have one already, but I don't. And they've already paid for the headcount, so it's too late to change."

"Uh-oh," Eira murmurs softly, understanding the gravity of the situation. “See, if one of those weird dates would have turned out, then you wouldn’t need to be working right now.”

"I know. I know. Anyway, now’s it’s apparently drop-dead time, per my mom and Hannah. Is there any chance your brother could go with me? Just as a favor?" I ask tentatively.

"Gracie, I wish he could, but he's going to be out of town for work," Eira says. "I'm really sorry."

"Ugh, I should've asked him sooner," I mutter. I thoughtlessly trace the patterns on my coffee table, feeling the rough edges beneath my fingertips.

"Hey, don't beat yourself up about it," Eira reassures me. "We'll figure something out, okay?"

"I just don't know what to do right now," I confess. Even though I am not looking for love, the prospect of attending my sister's wedding alone is unbearable. I can practically feel the pitying glances and whispered judgments piercing through me.

"Look, let's brainstorm some ideas tomorrow, alright?" Eira asks.

"Okay, thanks. I'll talk to you tomorrow," I sigh.

The next morning, I don't even have a chance to call Eira to discuss strategy before the shrill ringing of my phone cuts through the air like a knife. I glance at the screen and see that it's my sister – again.

"Gracie, this is ridiculous!" Hannah practically screams into the phone as soon as I answer. "I need that name NOW!"

"Okay, okay," I say, trying to keep my voice steady under the weight of her anger. My heart races as I desperately search for a solution. I can't take it anymore, and the first name that comes to mind escapes my lips: "Bennett Halliday."

"Finally!" Hannah huffs. "That wasn't so hard, was it? See you at the wedding, Gracie. And make sure your date behaves himself." She hangs up without another word, leaving me to deal with the consequences of my impulsive decision.

Bennett Halliday – the one I've dreamed about and inappropriately fantasized about since running into him a few days ago. My mind races, playing out scenarios of how I might convince him to accompany me to the wedding. The thought of being close to him, feeling his strong arms around me as we dance, has me all kinds of worked up.

But then reality sets in, and I'm left grappling with the fact that I've just committed to bringing a man I don’t know to my sister's wedding. A professional hockey player, no less. What have I gotten myself into?

Shit. You're an idiot.

There's no turning back now. With a deep breath, I steel my resolve. I'll find a way to make this work. I have to. For my own dignity, and for any shred of pride I may have left.

"Oh, Benny," I whisper to myself. "You have no idea what you're in for."

The next few hours are a whirlwind of strategizing and anxiety. I pace around my office, figuring out how the hell to get Bennett to be my date to this wedding.

After a sudden stop at my desk, I tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear, straighten my spine, and pick up my phone.

I tap and scroll through my contacts until I find the one I need: Ms. Halliday, Bennett's mother, the co-owner of the Holidates app… my boss. My heart flutters as I tap her name, knowing this call may be my ticket to salvaging what's left of my pride. Or what’s going to lead me to be jobless.

"Hello, Ms. Halliday," I start hesitantly.