Lucky for me, any awkwardness that might have definitely been piling up over the course of our short morning together was quickly displaced when we walked into the lobby and were greeted by the smiling faces of Divya and her fiance, Raj.

"It's so good to meet you," Raj says, extending his hand to Enrique. "Bianca's husband, yeah?"

How much does he know?

Enrique returns the handshake with a curt nod. "Yup, that's me. Reporting for duty."

"I heard about that, too. How are you holding up?"

A small flutter fills my chest, growing outward like a firework in the sky.

Divya reads my mind, leaning in to whisper, "It's not your fault you were so worried about everything that you never managed to think about his feelings. He has his own friends and family for that."

"Maybe," I answer her without turning around. "But it's not a very kind choice to make. I'm better than that."

"You are," she agrees. "So start acting like it. Moping around won't make it better."

By the time Lorena and Carla bounce into the lobby, Raj and Enrique have managed to shift the topic to French cuisine. A topic about which I never expected either of them to care. The surprises just keep coming today.

Lorena and Carla don't even have a chance to say hello before Divya grabs their hands and pulls them through the front doors. "Come on," she calls over her shoulder. "Our guide is already waiting outside.

Raj and Enrique look back at me, waiting for me to make the first move. One foot in front of the other, I make it through the door into the bright late-morning sun of the Vegas strip. Two girls in sequin dresses search the nearby garbage for a lost clutch. Evidence of a night well spent, as Carla would call it.

Enrique's hand rests on my lower back and I almost turn to look at him, but I'm interrupted by the booming, scratchy voice of our boisterous guide. Her large stature is accentuated by a bright blue vest and a sparkly party hat. "Gather round bridal party and guests!" she calls, her voice loud enough that she definitely doesn't need a microphone. "We are on our way out of town and we will be in the van for over an hour so do your stretches now and prepare your brains for some exciting new knowledge. We leave in five minutes and I require all limbs and handbags to be inside the vehicle."

She doesn't wait for our murmured agreement, turning on her heel and marching around the van, slamming her door once she's safely inside.

"I wonder who dangled a handbag out of the vehicle and made that rule necessary," Enrique quips.

"You have to wonder, don't you?" I ask, effortless smile pinching my cheeks. "Every time I read a code of conduct or terms of service agreement I have to wonder which wild cat decided to do something and ruin it for the rest of us."

"I'm going to pretend it was a linebacker named Javier."

"The only logical choice," I agree.

I've forgotten why I'm even there, the heat from Enrique's fingers pleasant rather than sticky. But I'm aggressively reminded of the point of our trip when Raj taps my shoulder, spinning me to face the open door of the van.

"You two are last," he says simply. "Back seat for you."

I don't even try to argue. Mostly because the lump in my chest grows more persistent by the second. We're really doing this.

Sliding into the back of the vehicle takes a few ungraceful motion, but finally we land next to each other on a bench built just for two. We don't have any time to think about what that means, though, as our guide's gruff voice breaks through the silence, providing a constant—and I do mean constant—running commentary of what we are seeing out of which side of the vehicle.

The desert landscape, littered with bits of brush that look like my lawn does when it dries up, breeze past us as our guide excitedly tells us about the history of the area, and points out some kind of mountain or something that we can take a picture of when we arrive at our destination.

Wherever that is.

At some point the desert morphs into small rolling hills adorned with a few sparsh bushes and trees. And then a small city or town appears in the distance and our guide shifts to giving us a run down of how the next stop will go.

"When we get through town, we're going to make a wee stop at a wonderful family winery for your wine tasting. We will not be here much more than an hour so be sure to get your photographs taken, food eaten, and bathroom breaks had before we get back on the road. The time allotted is plenty to finish your lunch as arranged and then some, so please do be prompt." She turns the car off the main road onto a small winding path before continuing. "I've also talked our hosts into allowing you a brief tour of the actual vineyard if that is something that interests you. You may inquire about it at the front desk area. I will field any questions once we arrive onsite."

It sounds fun, but my eyes are drawn across Enrique's chest and out the window where rows and rows of green fill the landscape in harsh contrast to the sandy brown we'd been met with the whole way here.

"You two lovebirds are awfully quiet back there," Lorena says as we turn off the highway. "Sad that you lost the race and ended up in the back?"

"Just admiring the view," Enrique says, flashing that debonair smile that gets him out of everything. Lorena's eyes say she doesn't quite believe him, but she nods. She's going to let it go for now, and the pressure lessens slightly. They know this whole thing is fake. They are expecting this to be a bit awkward.

But they know as well as I do that we have to figure this out before the wedding.

The image of Emiko last night in the lobby flashes through my mind and I have to figure this out. I can't help her being beautiful or him having dumped me. I could have probably helped my being so hung up on him, but I didn't and now I'm here. So I need to move forward to a place where I can get through Divya's wedding without getting drunk off everyone else's drink.

I can do this.

"So, you ready for our vineyard tour?" I ask Enrique while the girls chatter away in the row in front of us.

"I am mostly ready for lunch," he laughs. "But the vineyard tour sounds fun, too. And hot."

"Everything is sweat-inducing around here. Must be a big contrast to home."

"I will never complain about the cold again after this trip. I have heating and winter clothes. But this is..."

"There's only so much you can take off," I say without thinking.

"Excuse me?" Carla's head pokes between the headrests in front of us. "We're in public here."

"We were talking about the heat!" I defend.

"Mmhmm. Sure you were."

She's being so loud that Divya and Raj can hear us from the front row of the van. "What is going on back there?"

"Nothing!" I respond.

But Carla shouts louder than me. "They're discussing how much they can take off!"

"That's not—" I try to defend myself but Divya's already turned fully around in her seat.

"Excuse me?" She is giving me the mom look.

Enrique is laughing so hard he can't breathe, so he's no help and I just give up. "You caught us. We are discussing very inappropriate things like how flipping hot this desert is."

Our guide of course chooses this moment to selectively hear what we are discussing and chime in with a fascinating fact about how one of the locations we'll be stopping by later recorded the highest ever temperature in the world. So far as we know.

That sounds a little bit fake, but I have no cell reception, so I'm going to have to accept it for now.

The wind is surprisingly cool when the guide pulls the door open at the winery and begins giving us some type of history about the grapes.

I didn't know there was so much to know about grapes.

"I always thought grapes were just grapes," I whisper to Enrique. "What on earth does the history of the grape have to do with anything?"

"I think we shouldn't say that too loud around the wine connoisseurs," he whispers back. "I think that's an offense punishable by death."

The laughter spills out of me without thinking and this time I don't even bother to disguise it, I just hold on to Enrique's arm for support and lean into the hilarious joke he just told.

A few rogue glances landed on us, but it was over soon enough. A young man dressed all in matte black walks out the front door and escorts us around the side of the building and through a narrow archway into a courtyard with tables set for two, elegant wine glasses and menus laying on each place.

"So, have you been on many wine tours before?" I ask. "Since we're clearly both very knowledgeable in this area."

"Surprisingly, I have not. I actually live pretty close to wine country, don't I? They might kick me out if they know my first wine tasting wasn't the Okanagan."

"I think that's only if you live in British Columbia," I laugh. "Alberta probably doesn't care about that sort of thing."

"True. I have had to shoo a bear out of my trash, which is a real mountain right of passage."

"There you go. You'll be allowed to stay."

Divya interrupts me to tell everyone where to sit and she's barely pointed out our table when suddenly Enrique's story really hits my brain. "Wait! You have bears at your house? I can't live with bears!"

"I do not have bears at my house. At least not often. That story was actually when I was camping in a tent."

"You were camping in a tent with a bear?"

"The bear wasn't in the tent, Bianca. I'm not that hospitable."

"How did you escape with your life, then?" I ask, allowing a man to pull out my chair and sitting down as he pushed it in behind my knees. At that point, I don't have much of a choice.

"It's really quite simple. I did some two step. Bears hate bad dancing, you see."

"Oh my husband the comedian, everyone," I say like I'm introducing him at a crowded event. "He'll be here all week."

"Bianca, we are not delaying our trip because you can't tear yourself away from your husband to read a menu," Carla calls from her seat next to Lorena. "I'll drag you out of here myself, food or no food."

"I can do both," I answer. "I'm reading the menu and learning how to ward off bears. Which is a skill that will be very useful here, I'm sure."

Our guide materializes again. "There are no bears in this area. We do have some wildlife, but I'll make sure you're perfectly safe. Would anyone like a picture before your meal begins?"

I can already tell that woman has a knack for appearing at the strangest times.

"I would," Enrique unexpectedly answers, pulling out his phone and opening the camera. "Smile, Bianca, we're going to show everyone at this wedding how amazing our time was."

"Smart."

His hand rests on mine and I don't know what to feel, so I just force a smile and turn to face our guide.

It's going to be fine.