Page 4 of Best Man Speaking

I don’t wait for the answer.

Instead, I move toward my car, gravel crunching beneath my feet and my fingers shaking as I attempt to use my phone.

Palms sweating, the phone rings, my mind whirling over everything that happened last night. I should have known when he didn’t say those three little words back to me. Should’ve held back at the flash of uncertainty on his face.

The call connects, but he doesn’t say hello. My nerves spike.

“You’re not coming?” I ask, hating how my voice shakes.

“No.” The sound of people in the background is loud. He’s obviously not at home, not at work. Not alone.

“Why?” I want to know, deserve to know.

He sighs, and I can picture him looking up, frustration evident in his gray eyes, through the cut of his jaw.

“Because it’s too much, Hallie. It’s all too much.”

My chest collapses in on itself, my breath punctured by his words.

“Loving me is too much?” I somehow manage to clarify. I pull at the stupid neckline of my dress before finally giving in and reaching for the zip at the back. The few inches of material freedom provide nothing but more space for my hurt to grow.

Marcus ignores the question. “I bumped into your dad when I was leaving last night,” he says, the background noise on his end fading out. “He reminded me we’re young, and long-term commitment is a crazy idea at our age. You’ve got the world to see, and we shouldn’t settle for the first person we have a relationship with.”

A sound slips from my lips. One of pain. Of utter disbelief.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not. We want different things. You want to leave, and I need to stay. I’ve got a job and my family… I just can’t see it working.”

From my reflection in the car window, I watch my tired eyes go glassy. I give myself a final look and turn away from hurt I don’t need to see. Feeling it is plenty.

“You’re seriously taking that man’s advice?” I ask, voice strained. “Marcus, he isn’t even here today.” I look around the empty parking lot. “He doesn’t care about me, about any of this.”

“It doesn’t mean he’s wrong.” Marcus’s voice is strong, his decision final.

“I love you,” I whisper, knowing it could be for the last time.

“I know,” he says with a dry chuckle, “but you’ll get over it.”

My hurt morphs into fury at his absolute apathy, and the anger is overwhelming. I steady my breathing, pinching the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger.

“Thank you,” I reply, drawing on all the sharp words and sarcasm that’d been between us before I’d softened to him. Before, I’d let him convince me that he and I were worth a chance, that he wouldn’t be the player he’d been in the past.

That for the longest time he hadn’t been.

“For what?” He scoffs, sounding just like my best friend’s asshole brother he’d once been and should’ve stayed.

“For freeing me of this place. For freeing me of you.”

“You’re welcome.” His voice is full of dark amusement as he ends the call.

I’ve never hated anyone more in my life.

Except for my dad. He’d be lucky if I ever spoke to him again.

My legs finally give out. With my back to my car door, I pull my knees into my chest, uncaring of how it looks.

There’s no one here to see as everything inside me breaks.

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