The airport was crowded as always. The din of voices. The clack and hum of rolling suitcases. It filled the air as Renée navigated it all with her single carry-on bag.
The weight of her probable impending reunion sat heavier on her shoulders than luggage could. Though... her hair was feeling particularly light after she went to the salon. It had been a while since she'd had it cut.
"Renée! Over here!"
She turned to see Marcus waving at her from a cluster of seats near their gate. She imagined that she recognized a few of the faces around him. The group on this flight were friends from his law enforcement circle. Some of them, perhaps, had attended the law programs back in university with *her*.
She took a deep breath and approached while mustering a smile.
"There you are. You're late. Leana would have crucified me when I got there even before we took our vows."
"It's still a half hour before the flight."
"Exactly. So much could happen in thirty minutes. A terrorist attack. A hurricane."
"I hope not. I haven't had a chance to pack a super secret spy umbrella to handle both."
Marcus laughed. It was a nice laugh for a future husband to have. Deep and infectious. The kind that made others want to join in, no matter the joke. The kind that made everyone else look over and rile Renée's nerves.
"I'm glad you're coming. Leana's missed you."
The writer nodded as he spoke. She could tell. He was sincere and well-intentioned, though she had suspicions about his character nonetheless. Leana wasn't good at keeping people oblivious, after all. Which meant whatever she intended to meddle in... he was probably informed.
"Thanks, Marcus. I'm excited for you guys."
He nodded with a slight flush to his cheeks. The sort of jittery happiness before the final plunge that could still pop up... even if the words were similar trite phrases to that which people kept speaking to him.
"It'll be a good time. You'll be able to meet practically everyone we know. Maybe you'll hit it off with someone and next thing you know it's your wedding we attend."
"I'm not looking for anyone. I'm here to celebrate you and Leana."
"Really?"
His expression changed and the tone was suddenly a little more... pensive. A clear sign as any that he had been duped just a little by his bride to be. The woman had a BA in a field that essentially studied how truth was presented to the masses *poorly* as much as how it could be presented most *effectively*.
"She's not planning to actively set people up, is she?"
He nodded with a sheepish smile.
"I think it's something she wants. I don't think it's just you. She probably had hopes of our special day being a link in a giant web of happiness."
Renée was unsurprised. It made sense that it was part of a wider scheme. When that journalist planned things she often let it get out of hand in terms of scale. A particular sophomore house party came to mind.
She wished it hadn't, because it made other history start to filter in. She took a moment to distract herself by focusing on character details. She noted his thick neck and broad shoulders underneath the baggy tropical shirt.
They weren't the sort of traits she'd look for in a partner, but Renée was comfortable enough to step out of her own sexuality to agree that he was a 'healthy catch'. Most of his other cop friends seemed to be in similar well-exercised states.
The woman wished she chose a different distraction. All it did was make her feel like a lazy toothpick and wonder if *she* still kept in shape. Renée sighed, knowing that circling back to her ex would continue at least until whatever 'convenient timing' the bride had planned for them.
"So it sounds like she hasn't changed much, has she?"
Marcus shook his head.
"Leana has always been like that. A focus on the bigger picture. I'm a bit of a mess when it comes to things like that, honestly."
Renée nodded. In a way, she shared that long-game quality with her old university friend. It had led her to making a lot of choices over the last decade she felt would be better later, even if they sucked *now*. As far as she could tell, they had all been the right choice.
Of course, she also shared being a 'bit of a mess'... but wasn't really paying attention to those kinds of phrases like she used to. Therapy was a good way to stop jumping at the shadows within people's words. The nearby group grew louder and a few approached her with curious faces now that they seemed to be done with their talk.
"So, are you Renée? The writer?"
"Ah, yes."
"It's so nice to finally meet you. We were wondering if Leana had made you up."
"That sounds like something Leana would say."
Renée was quickly swept up into the conversation. It was a familiar dance of social politeness, as she met new people and tried not to forget their names. She did her best to smile and nod along with the conversation, even as a few of them hit the gas on their flirting a bit.
"That sundress looks good, by the way. I hope we'll have time to get to know each other better on the island."
"Ah, thank you."
The youngest looking man had complimented her clothing first. She felt bad shooting him down too quickly and making him a target of their jeers. Renée smoothed the skirt uncomfortably. The airy linen was printed with a vibrant pattern of tropical leaves. It was a distinct departure from her usual look.
But *something* about the destination made her want to embrace the carefree island style - at least outwardly. It was easy to tell herself it wasn't to catch anyone's eye, but harder to believe.
Of course, she was confident that no matter her ulterior motive... the main point was showing off that she was 'doing fine'. Even if the relationship was dead and buried. She wanted her ex to know she was alright.