Page 3 of Best Man Speaking

The bed dips where he places his knee, leaning over me to put a kiss to my forehead, all that’s visible above my sheets.

“I’ll be yours, Hal, and you won’t be alone, I promise,” he says quietly and then sneaks out like the perfect boyfriend he is.

The house is still silent when I make my way downstairs. Of course, no one’s here, not even today of all days. I suck a breath in through my nose, inhaling the cloying scent of multiple floral arrangements. The smell might make me feel slightly ill, but I’m thankful for it.

Thankful that even though the funeral had been announced as family only, it hadn’t stopped the abundance of flowers arriving to take up every spare surface we had. They were physical reminders that there were people who cared. People who felt like me. Or at least felt something at all.

Looking around, I remind myself that I don’t have much longer in this house, in this city.

I’ll have college and Marcus and a whole world to see beyond that.

Heat infuses me with the thought of him, and I check my phone, surprised the usual morning message from him hasn’t come through. Especially after last night. I pull the memory—of how it felt to be wrapped in his arms, how it felt to be so ridiculously loved by him—around me like an invisible blanket. It gives me a moment of relief from the actual fabric I’m wearing—the stifling black dress with its lace cap sleeves brushing my skin and causing an itch.

Surprising no one, I head to the service alone.

Halfway there, I hit my blinker, pulling over on the side of the road. I’m agitated and likely to cause an accident trying to look at my phone where it lies on the passenger seat. It lights up at my touch, just as lacking in text messages as it’d been when I left.

Warm and feeling uneasy, I open my window. Letting the fresh air wash over my face, I force myself to take three deep breaths, holding each one at the top before letting it go.

Only then do I call Marcus. It goes unanswered.

Concerned, I send a text.

Hallie:Are you okay?

No reply comes through while I’m driving, but as I finally pull into the parking lot of the small chapel, I’m relieved to see the old truck he and Julian share already here.

I make my way toward my best friend, standing tall and stern in a black suit. His face softens when he sees me. His arms wrap around me, holding tight.

“Where is he, Jules?” I ask, knowing I’m going to need Marcus, need the steadiness of his presence and the promise of us to get me through the rest of this day.

Julian swallows and gives a small shake of his head, tousling his wavy brown hair. “He’s not coming.”

A sickly heat runs through me, and my skin flushes as the nausea I’d felt in the car quadruples until I think I might be sick.

I open my mouth to respond, but I’m interrupted.

“Miss Cairns, are you ready for us to proceed with the service?” asks the priest, a man whose name I can no longer remember.

I tuck my hair behind my ears as my heart picks up speed. “I…I think we’re still waiting for my dad.”

I don’t want to step into the chapel. Not yet.

I can’t.

The priest’s eyes are gentle, even as the corners of his lips turn down. “I’m sorry, Miss Cairns. I thought you would’ve been made aware we’re to have a prompt 11:00 a.m. start, regardless of attendance. It was made clear by your father’s assistant.”

Of course it was.

I could’ve predicted my mom wouldn’t show, but my dad not attending his own mother’s funeral service is abysmal. They didn’t care about each other, about my gran, about me. They never cared about anyone but themselves.

Julian squeezes my hand.

I press a palm over my chest, my heart and lungs racing to see who can work the fastest and the hardest. I personally don’t care who wins or if they give out completely because, suddenly, more than anything, I just need out.

Julian squeezes my hand again, but I pull away.

“Could you give me one more minute?”

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