Updated Dec 4, 2025 • ~11 min read
Barry Dale had been in love with Savannah Mitchell for exactly nine years, eleven months, and twenty-three days.
Not that he was counting.
(He was absolutely counting.)
He gripped the steering wheel tighter as they drove toward the vineyard, trying not to stare at her in his peripheral vision. She was wearing his old hoodie—the one from their college’s engineering department that she’d stolen during finals week sophomore year and never returned.
He’d never asked for it back.
“Earth to Barry,” Savannah said, waving a hand in front of his face. “You okay? You’ve been quiet for like ten minutes.”
“Just thinking about the weekend. Roman’s going to be a mess during the vows.”
“You already made that joke.”
“It’s going to be funny twice.”
She laughed, and Barry felt it in his chest like always. Ten years of that laugh, and it still did things to him.
He thought about what she’d said earlier—about home, about relationships never quite fitting. He’d wanted to tell her then: You’re my home. You’ve always been my home.
But he was a coward.
Had been a coward for a decade.
Barry’s mind drifted back to the beginning, to that statistics study group where everything started…
Ten years ago – Sophomore year
Barry had almost skipped the study group. Statistics wasn’t his strong suit, but he was managing a B+ and figured he could handle it alone.
Then Savannah Mitchell walked into the library study room, dropped her overstuffed bag on the table, and announced: “Okay, I’m going to be honest—I have no idea what’s happening in this class. Help me or I’m dropping out and becoming a bartender.”
She’d been so dramatically herself even then. All energy and humor and zero filter.
The study group leader, Anthony, had laughed. “Statistics isn’t that bad.”
“Anthony, I thought standard deviation was a type of highway exit. I’m drowning.”
Barry had surprised himself by speaking up. “I can explain standard deviation.”
She’d turned those warm brown eyes on him. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. It’s actually pretty logical once you break it down.”
He’d spent the next hour explaining the concept, drawing diagrams, making terrible jokes to help her remember formulas. She’d listened with complete focus, asked smart questions, actually cared about understanding rather than just memorizing.
When the study group ended, she’d caught up with him outside. “Thank you. Seriously. You just saved my life. Or at least my GPA.”
“Happy to help.”
“Can I buy you coffee? As thanks?”
They’d gotten coffee. Which turned into dinner. Which turned into meeting up twice a week outside of study group. Which turned into friendship and inside jokes and Barry realizing—too late—that he was falling for someone who definitely just saw him as a friend.
Barry shook off the memory as they pulled into the vineyard parking lot. The estate was stunning—exactly the kind of romantic venue that made him want to tell Savannah how he felt.
And exactly the kind of romantic venue where she’d probably panic and run if he actually did.
They checked in, got their room assignment, and Barry tried not to think about the fact that they’d be sharing a bed tonight. Just sleeping. Like adults. No big deal.
(It was a huge deal.)
As they headed up to room 217, Barry’s best friend Zane called.
“You there yet?”
“Just arrived.”
“And? How’s the romantic wedding weekend with the woman you’ve been in love with since college?”
Barry glanced at Savannah unpacking in the bathroom. “Quiet. She can hear you.”
“I’m on your earbuds. She can’t hear anything.” Zane paused. “You’re going to tell her this weekend, right?”
“I don’t know.”
“Dale. It’s been ten years. Ten. Years. You have a hotel room together. A romantic vineyard. Mood lighting. Everything’s basically screaming ‘confess your feelings.’ What are you waiting for?”
“The right moment.”
“You’ve been waiting for the right moment for a decade. Maybe there is no perfect moment. Maybe you just have to make the moment.”
“And if she doesn’t feel the same way?”
“Then at least you’ll finally know. And you can stop torturing yourself.”
After Zane hung up, Barry sat on the edge of the bed, staring at his reflection in the mirror across the room.
He looked tired. Worn down by years of watching Savannah date other people. Of being the friend she called when relationships ended. Of knowing everything about her except the one thing that mattered: if she could ever see him as more than just Barry.
Just her best friend.
Just the guy who helped her pass statistics.
The walk through the vineyard should have been his chance. He’d tried to bring up graduation day—the moment they’d almost kissed before her boyfriend interrupted. But she’d shut him down immediately.
I can’t lose you.
That’s what she’d said. Which meant she’d thought about it. About them. About crossing that line.
And she was terrified of it.
Same as him.
Barry changed into slacks and a button-down for the rehearsal, checking his reflection one more time. Get through tonight. Get through the weekend. Maybe something would shift. Maybe the universe would give him a sign.
Maybe he’d finally stop being a coward and just tell her.
When Savannah emerged from the bathroom in a sundress that made his breath catch, Barry knew this weekend was going to destroy him one way or another.
“Ready?” she asked.
No. Not even a little bit.
“Ready,” he lied.
The rehearsal was everything Barry expected: Skylar directing everyone with military precision, Roman looking overwhelmed but happy, the wedding party learning their places.
Barry stood at the altar with the other groomsmen, watching as Savannah walked down the aisle during the practice run. Even in casual clothes, even just for rehearsal, she took his breath away.
Their eyes met halfway down the aisle. She smiled. His heart stopped.
Zane elbowed him. “You’re staring.”
“Shut up.”
“Everyone can see you staring.”
“I said shut up.”
After rehearsal, they gathered on the vineyard terrace for dinner. Long tables under string lights, wine flowing, laughter and toasts filling the warm evening air.
Barry found himself seated next to Thaddeus, Savannah’s older brother, who gave him a knowing look.
“So,” Thaddeus said casually. “You and my sister sharing a room.”
“Skylar booked it that way.”
“Uh-huh. And you’re both totally fine with that?”
“We’re adults. We can share a bed.”
Thaddeus laughed. “Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”
Across the table, Savannah was deep in conversation with Emery and some of Skylar’s cousins. She laughed at something Emery said, throwing her head back, completely unguarded.
Barry wanted to memorize that laugh. Bottle it somehow.
“You’re staring again,” Thaddeus observed.
“I’m not—”
“Dale. I’ve known you for eight years. I’ve watched you look at my sister like that for eight years. Either do something about it or stop torturing yourself.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Why not? You love her. She—” Thaddeus stopped himself. “Never mind.”
“She what?”
“Not my place to say.”
Barry wanted to push, but Skylar stood up to give a toast, and the moment passed.
The speeches went on—Roman’s parents welcoming Skylar to the family, Skylar’s dad getting emotional, friends sharing embarrassing stories.
Then Audrey, the maid of honor, stood up.
“I want to talk about finding your person,” she said, wine glass raised. “Not just someone you love, but someone who sees you. Really sees you. Someone who knows your coffee order and your comfort shows and the exact moment you need silence versus distraction. Someone who’s been there for every version of you and loved all of them.”
Her gaze drifted to Barry and Savannah, lingering meaningfully.
“To Skylar and Roman, who found each other. And to everyone else still figuring it out—don’t wait too long. Life’s short. Take the risk.”
Everyone drank. Barry couldn’t taste the wine.
When the speeches ended, people mingled. Barry lost track of Savannah in the crowd, finally spotting her near the vineyard’s edge, looking out at the view.
He approached slowly. “Hey.”
She turned, smiling. “Hey yourself. Good speeches, huh?”
“Audrey was staring right at us during that ‘finding your person’ thing.”
“I noticed.”
“People keep assuming we’re together.”
“They always do.”
They stood in silence, the weight of ten years between them.
“Barry,” Savannah said quietly. “Earlier, in the vineyard, when you brought up graduation day—”
“Forget it. I shouldn’t have—”
“No, I want to talk about it.” She took a breath. “I think about that day sometimes. About what might have happened if Josh hadn’t shown up.”
Barry’s heart was racing. “What do you think would have happened?”
“I think we would have kissed. And maybe—” She stopped, shaking her head. “It doesn’t matter. That was ten years ago.”
“Does it have to be?”
“What?”
“Does it have to stay ten years ago?” Barry turned to face her fully. “What if—”
“There you guys are!” Thea bounded up, oblivious to the moment she’d just shattered. “They’re cutting the rehearsal cake! You have to come see—Skylar got a tiny practice cake shaped like a grapevine. It’s adorable.”
Savannah practically ran toward the terrace. Barry followed more slowly, cursing Thea’s timing and his own inability to just say the damn words.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur of cake and laughter and trying not to think about the hotel room waiting for them.
Finally, around eleven, people started heading to their rooms. Barry and Savannah walked back together, the path lit by garden lights.
“Today was good,” Savannah said. “Exhausting, but good.”
“Yeah.”
“You okay? You’ve been quiet tonight.”
“Just tired.”
Another lie to add to the pile.
At their door, Barry paused with the key card. “Last chance to request a cot.”
“We’re fine. Stop being weird about it.”
“I’m not being weird.”
“You’re being a little weird.”
They got ready for bed in awkward rotation—her in the bathroom first, then him. When Barry emerged in sleep pants and a t-shirt, Savannah was already under the covers on the left side, deliberately looking at her phone.
Barry climbed into the right side, maintaining careful distance.
“Night,” Savannah said, turning off her lamp.
“Night.”
They lay in the dark, both pretending to sleep. Barry could hear her breathing, feel the warmth of her presence eighteen inches away.
This close and still impossibly far.
He thought about Zane’s advice. About making a moment instead of waiting for one. About ten years of almosts and whether he could survive ten more.
“You awake?” Savannah whispered into the darkness.
“Yeah.”
“I can’t sleep.”
“Me neither.”
More silence. Then: “Can we talk?”
“Sure.”
They talked for hours. About everything and nothing. About their failed relationships and what went wrong. About getting older and feeling like they should have life figured out by now. About fear of making wrong choices.
“What are you most afraid of?” Savannah asked.
You. Losing you. Never having you.
“Regret,” Barry said instead. “Looking back and wondering what if.”
“Me too.”
At some point after three AM, exhaustion won. Barry drifted off mid-conversation, Savannah’s voice the last thing he heard.
He woke at 7AM to find her curled against his side, her head on his chest, her arm draped across his stomach. Still asleep, breathing softly, completely trusting.
This was everything he wanted.
And everything he was terrified of losing.
He should move. Put distance between them. Pretend this didn’t happen.
But he didn’t move. Let himself have this moment, this one stolen piece of something real.
When Savannah’s eyes opened a few minutes later, meeting his, neither of them said anything.
They both knew.
And neither was brave enough to acknowledge it.
“Morning,” she whispered, not moving away.
“Morning.”
She finally rolled back to her side, and Barry immediately missed the warmth.
Two more days. Two more days of this exquisite torture.
Barry got up, grabbed clothes, headed for the shower.
Under the hot water, he made a decision.
Before this weekend ended, he was telling her. No more almosts. No more cowardice.
Even if it ruined everything.
Because Thaddeus was right—this limbo was its own kind of torture.
Better to know. Better to risk it all than live in this halfway space forever.
But first: coffee. And surviving today’s events without doing something monumentally stupid.
Like pulling Savannah Mitchell into his arms and kissing her in front of everyone at this wedding.
Two more days.
He could last two more days.
Probably.
Maybe.
God help him.
Reader Reactions