Page 36 of Best Man Speaking

I try to add my usual bite into the words, but I’m not certain if either one of us is fooled.

She stands absolutely still, watching me move around to the driver’s side. “Are you determined to make me regret every moment I spend with you?”

She hops into the passenger seat and slams the door shut.

“Only the ones that don’t lead you back to my bedroom.” My tone is carefree, and I’m curious to see what level of awkward we’re going to find ourselves at for the rest of the day. “Speaking of which, you haven’t said much since the other night.”

“Why? Are you looking for a reference? ’Cause you were pretty clear on preferring my silence, but I’m happy to report you’re great at oral activities, just not the conversational sort.”

“I deserve that,” I say with a slow nod.

“I don’t disagree.”

“Would you be up for us playing by Julian’s rules? For productivity reasons, of course.”

Hallie takes a sip of her coffee, seemingly to mull over what I’m sure is a less-than-appealing offer. After careful consideration, she turns toward me, and I risk a quick glance her way as she replies, “As long as you can do it quietly.”

I tell myself I wasn’t imagining the hint of a smile around the edges of her lips.

We pull up in front of a store designed to look like a high-class tailor in Ireland in the late 1800s. The architecture, however, is not to be misleading. In one of the shop windows, mannequins display highly crafted suits and, in the other, brightly colored and retro-style garments. Everything here is made or repaired to fit the person who wears it.

I might not know a lot about fashion, but as the builder who put the storefront together, I’d picked up enough about the type of business it’d be.

O’Byrne & Daughters is owned by a quick-witted Irish woman and her sister, who still lives back in Dublin with a shop of the same name. Taught the love of the trade by their father, Andrea’s also been up for the sometimes momentous task of training the next generation and was the first choice for Julian when it came to getting our suits made for the wedding.

If Hallie has anything to say about the design of the shopfront or the nature of the clothing being sold in it, she doesn’t let on. Instead, she walks ahead of me, a smile already on her face. A smile, it seems, for anyone but me.

“Hi, we’re here for a fitting. The appointment is for Julian and Erica Scott’s wedding party,” Hallie says to Cara, Andrea’s shop apprentice, who’s currently behind the counter.

“Hey, Cara,” I say with a bright smile of my own as I come in behind Hallie.

“Hey, Mr. Scott, how are you?” she asks, standing from her seat and making her way into the center of the store.

“Good, thanks. I’m glad to see things are still going well with Andrea.”

“It’s the best thing that’s happened to me, for sure,” she says with new confidence. “Come on back to the fitting rooms. Andrea has everything ready for you to try on. I’ll just run and grab her.”

I lead the way into the back, where a plush ruby chaise lounge and three fitting spaces hung with heavy velvet, jewel-toned curtains reside.

“Ladies first?” I gesture to the fitting rooms before us, knowing Hallie won’t want to go first.

“Not on your life. I’ll happily wait until we have a witness in here before I start removing my clothes.”

“Hal, I didn’t know you were into exhibitionism now.” I groan dramatically, slowly running a hand down my face. Although I might be reacting this way to annoy her, a part of me cannot stop thinking about her splayed out on the chaise she’s taken a seat on.

“Marcus, I have a strict rule about customers not being made to feel uncomfortable in my store. Are you about to make me put my steel-cap boots on? Or should I just miss with a pin or two?” Andrea asks as she enters the room, gently shaking a small container of alteration pins in her hand.

Decked out in a charcoal tweed suit, she rocks a waistcoat, a pink gingham shirt, and a delicate pink velvet bow tie. With tousled brown hair, she is something else.

I place both my hands up in mock surrender. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I’m glad to hear it. You’re a man who looks good in a suit, attends charity events, and, generally, you don’t behave like an ass. Not half-bad as far as free advertising goes.”

I raise an eyebrow at her in disbelief. For Andrea, this is a compliment of the highest regard.

However, she bypasses me without further comment, instead making her way over to the chaise. “I’m Andrea—Andie to some—and you must be Hallie. It’s lovely to meet you.”

Hallie stands, a smile hitting her lips as she reaches her hand out in greeting.

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