Updated Dec 4, 2025 • ~12 min read
Savannah Mitchell stared at the open suitcase on her bed, holding her bridesmaid dress like it might spontaneously combust.
Three days. She had three days at a vineyard estate with Barry Dale, and she needed to get her feelings under control before she did something monumentally stupid.
Like confess she’d been in love with her best friend for the better part of a decade.
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. Barry, of course.
Picking you up at 6am. Don’t make me wait, Mitchell.
Savannah smiled despite herself. He’d been calling her by her last name since their college statistics study group ten years ago. She’d pretended to hate it then. She’d never actually hated it.
I’m ALWAYS on time, she typed back.
You’ve been late to literally everything we’ve ever done together.
Lies and slander.
I have evidence. Should I send you the spreadsheet?
She laughed out loud. Of course he had a spreadsheet. Barry was a software engineer who probably had spreadsheets for his spreadsheets.
6am. Got it. I’ll set seventeen alarms.
Make it eighteen. I know you.
Savannah set her phone down and returned to packing, trying to ignore the flutter in her chest. It was just a wedding. Just three days with Barry at Skylar and Roman’s destination wedding. They’d been to plenty of events together before.
Except this was different.
This was the first time they’d both be single at the same time in years.
Savannah had ended things with Xavier two months ago—finally admitting what she’d known all along: she’d only dated him because he was nothing like Barry. Safe. Emotionally distant. Someone she couldn’t accidentally fall deeper in love with.
Except she’d been in love with Barry the entire time anyway.
And Barry—Barry had ended his relationship with Nola three months ago. Savannah still remembered the phone call. She’d been relieved and guilty about being relieved in equal measure.
“You doing okay?” her best friend Emery asked from the doorway, startling Savannah out of her spiraling thoughts.
“Define okay.”
Emery walked in and sat on the bed, picking up the bridesmaid dress. “This is gorgeous. Skylar has good taste.”
“She does.”
“So why do you look like you’re packing for your own execution?”
Savannah sighed, sinking down beside her. “Because I’m about to spend three days at a romantic vineyard with Barry while pretending I’m not desperately in love with him.”
“Why are you still pretending? Just tell him.”
“Because if he doesn’t feel the same way, I lose my best friend. The most important person in my life. That’s not a risk I’m willing to take.”
Emery gave her a look. “Sav, I’ve seen you two together. That man is absolutely in love with you.”
“He’s not—”
“He spent your entire birthday dinner last month staring at you like you hung the moon. When that waiter hit on you, I thought Barry was going to combust. And don’t even get me started on the way he knows your coffee order, your favorite songs, your comfort shows. He knows everything about you because he pays attention to everything about you.”
Savannah wanted to believe it. God, she wanted to believe it.
But wanting and knowing were two very different things.
“Maybe,” she said noncommittally.
“Maybe nothing.” Emery squeezed her hand. “This weekend, take a risk. You’ve been almostfor ten years. Maybe it’s time to actually do something about it.”
After Emery left, Savannah finished packing in a daze. She pulled out her bridesmaid dress—deep burgundy, elegant, flattering. She’d tried it on three times already, wondering if Barry would notice. Hating herself for wondering.
On impulse, she opened her desk drawer and pulled out an old photo album. College memories, mostly. She flipped to graduation day.
There they were: twenty-two years old, Barry’s arm around her shoulders, both of them looking at each other instead of the camera. His expression was so open, so unguarded. She looked happy in a way she hadn’t felt in years.
Savannah remembered that day with perfect clarity. They’d almost kissed. Had been seconds away from it when her boyfriend at the time—God, what was his name? Josh? Jake?—had appeared and pulled her away.
She’d broken up with Jake-Josh a month later, but by then Barry had started dating someone else and the moment had passed.
Ten years of moments passing.
Ten years of almost.
Her phone buzzed again. A meme from Barry—something about wedding season and the emotional trauma of having to dance at other people’s celebrations. She laughed and sent back a GIF of someone dramatically fainting.
This was easy. The texts, the jokes, the effortless friendship. Why risk it for something that might not work?
Because, a traitorous voice in her head whispered, you’ve been half in love with him since he helped you pass statistics sophomore year, and you’re so tired of pretending you’re not.
Savannah closed the photo album and finished packing. Comfortable clothes for the drive tomorrow. Pajamas for the hotel. Her favorite jeans and a soft sweater for the rehearsal dinner.
The burgundy dress for the wedding.
And hope—irrational, terrifying hope—that maybe this weekend would be different.
That maybe, after ten years, she’d finally be brave enough to risk almost for something real.
The next morning, Savannah woke at 5:47 AM to her eighteenth alarm and a mild sense of panic.
She threw on jeans and a t-shirt—one of Barry’s old college hoodies that she’d “borrowed” years ago and never returned. It still smelled faintly like him, which was pathetic and wonderful in equal measure.
At exactly 6:03 AM, Barry’s car pulled up outside her apartment building.
She grabbed her suitcase and headed downstairs, finding him leaning against his car, looking unfairly good for six in the morning. Dark jeans, a worn blue henley, his hair slightly messy in a way that made her fingers itch to fix it.
“Three minutes late,” he announced. “I’m shocked.”
“I’m basically on time.”
“Math doesn’t work that way.”
“Math is fake.”
Barry laughed, taking her suitcase and loading it into his trunk. “You realize you said that exact thing in our statistics study group, right? That’s why you were failing.”
“And you saved me with your boring spreadsheets and patient explanations.”
“My spreadsheets are not boring. They’re elegant.”
Savannah climbed into the passenger seat, that familiar comfort settling over her. This was them. Banter and inside jokes and knowing each other so well that conversation was effortless.
Barry slid into the driver’s seat and handed her a to-go cup. “Vanilla latte, extra shot, light foam.”
Her heart did something complicated. “You stopped for coffee?”
“You’re not human before caffeine. I value my safety.”
She wanted to kiss him. Right there in his car at 6:04 in the morning, she wanted to lean across the console and kiss him.
Instead, she took the coffee and buckled her seatbelt. “Thanks. You’re a good friend.”
Something flickered across his face—disappointment? She couldn’t tell.
“So,” Barry said, pulling onto the road. “Three-hour drive. I made a playlist.”
“Of course you did.”
“It’s alphabetically organized by artist and then chronologically by release date.”
“You’re insane.”
“You love it.”
The terrible thing was, she did. She loved his ridiculous organization systems and his spreadsheets and the way he took care of details so she didn’t have to.
She loved everything about him.
They fell into easy conversation as the city faded behind them. Barry updated her on the drama at his software company. She complained about her nightmare of a boss. They dissected their recent breakups with the kind of honesty that comes from a decade of friendship.
“Why did you really end things with Xavier?” Barry asked as they merged onto the highway.
Savannah took a long sip of her latte, buying time. “He wasn’t right for me.”
“That’s what you said. But why?”
Because he wasn’t you.
“We just didn’t fit,” she said instead. “It was fine, but it was never… I don’t know. It never felt like home.”
Barry’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “What does home feel like?”
You. This. Us.
“I’m not sure,” she lied. “But I think I’ll know it when I find it.”
They drove in silence for a few minutes, the playlist shuffling through songs they’d both loved in college. Savannah stared out the window at the countryside rolling past, autumn colors painting the hills in gold and red.
“I ended things with Nola because I was in love with someone else,” Barry said suddenly.
Savannah’s heart stopped. “What?”
“Not physically. I didn’t cheat. But emotionally—my heart wasn’t in it. Wasn’t fair to her.”
“Who—” Savannah couldn’t finish the question. Didn’t want to know if it was someone else. Couldn’t bear to know if it was her and she’d wasted years.
“Doesn’t matter,” Barry said, his voice carefully neutral. “Timing’s never right anyway.”
The moment hung between them, heavy with everything they weren’t saying.
Savannah’s phone buzzed, breaking the tension. Skylar in the wedding party group chat: Can’t wait to see you all tonight! Rehearsal at 4pm. Be there or face my wrath.
“We’re almost there,” Barry said, checking the GPS. “Twenty more minutes.”
“You excited?”
“To watch Roman make terrible vows and probably cry?”
“He’s definitely going to cry.”
“Taking bets now. I say he cries before they finish walking down the aisle.”
“I’ll take that bet. Five dollars says he makes it through the walk but loses it during the vows.”
“Deal.”
They spent the rest of the drive making increasingly ridiculous predictions about the wedding, the easy banter back in place.
But Savannah couldn’t stop thinking about what Barry had said. In love with someone else. Her heart wouldn’t stop racing.
The vineyard estate appeared on the horizon—rolling hills covered in grapevines, a beautiful stone mansion, gardens and terraces overlooking the valley.
“Wow,” Savannah breathed.
“Yeah. Skylar went all out.”
They checked in at the main building. Skylar appeared immediately, radiant and buzzing with pre-wedding energy.
“You’re here!” She hugged them both, then gave Savannah a knowing look. “And you’re sharing the room I booked for you?”
Savannah’s brain short-circuited. “What?”
“The hotel room. I booked one for ‘Dale plus Mitchell’ because I assumed you’d want to share.”
Barry looked as surprised as Savannah felt. “Skylar—”
“Oh no, did I mess up? I can try to get another room—”
“No,” Savannah heard herself say. “It’s fine. We’ve shared worse accommodations.”
Which was true. They’d shared a tent on their Colorado road trip. An Airbnb during Thaddeus’s wedding. Her couch when his apartment flooded.
They’d never shared a bed though.
Never shared actual sleeping space with walls and privacy and all the implications that came with it.
“Great!” Skylar beamed. “You’re in room 217. See you at rehearsal!”
She bounced off, leaving Savannah and Barry standing in the lobby with their luggage and mounting tension.
“We don’t have to share,” Barry said carefully. “I can sleep on the floor or request a cot—”
“Don’t be ridiculous. We’re adults. We can share a bed.”
“Okay. If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.”
She wasn’t sure of anything except that this weekend was about to get very complicated.
They wheeled their suitcases to room 217. Barry unlocked the door.
One king bed. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the vineyard. Romantic lighting. Everything designed for couples.
“I call left side,” Savannah said, trying to keep her voice light.
Barry smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Works for me.”
They unpacked in loaded silence, the intimacy of shared space suddenly overwhelming. Her clothes hanging next to his in the closet. Her toiletries on the bathroom counter beside his cologne. Her favorite book on the nightstand next to his laptop.
It looked like they were together.
It looked like everything Savannah had wanted for ten years.
And it was all pretend.
Barry’s phone buzzed. “Zane texting about golf tomorrow.”
“You’re actually golfing?”
“Roman insisted. Bachelor party activities.”
“Have fun with that. Emery’s dragging me to the spa.”
They had two hours before rehearsal. Savannah suggested a walk through the vineyard. Barry agreed immediately.
They wandered the paths between grapevines, the late afternoon sun turning everything golden. It should have been romantic. It was romantic.
And they were just friends.
“Ten years,” Barry said suddenly.
“What?”
“We’ve known each other ten years. Since that statistics study group.”
“You saved my academic life.”
“You made studying actually fun. I was going to drop that group until you joined.”
Savannah looked at him, surprised. “Really?”
“Really. You were… you made everything more interesting.”
They walked in silence, shoulders occasionally brushing.
“Do you ever think about it?” Barry asked quietly.
“About what?”
“Graduation day. When we almost—”
“Don’t,” Savannah interrupted, her heart racing. “Barry, don’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because we’re friends. Best friends. And I can’t—I can’t lose you.”
Barry stopped walking, turning to face her. The sunset behind him made it hard to read his expression.
“Sav—”
Her phone rang. Thea, Skylar’s sister, calling about getting ready for the rehearsal.
The moment shattered.
“I should take this,” Savannah said, hating herself. “And we should probably head back anyway.”
Barry nodded, his jaw tight.
They walked back to the hotel in silence.
This weekend was going to kill her.
But as Savannah got ready for the rehearsal, pulling on a simple sundress and fixing her makeup, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was shifting.
That maybe, after ten years of almost, something was finally about to give.
She just had no idea if that was a good thing or the beginning of the end of the most important relationship in her life.
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