Page 45 of Best Man Speaking

She knows I’m right. Hallie’s here with the aim of packing up the remnants of her life, and from what I can tell, she has no intentions of staying or coming back.

“Not talking about the past is fine,” Hallie confirms, all business. “Time restraint?”

“We’re done when the wedding’s done.”

Hallie looks up at me as I say the words, and I don’t miss the way her shoulders stiffen just a fraction.

“Agreed,” she says with a nod, and the moment passes. “What’s the consequence if we break the truce?”

I think about it for a moment, the dream consequence in this scenario.

“Whoever instigates the breaking of the truce forfeits, and the other party can call things off from that point. No explanation necessary.”

“The ultimate get-out-of-jail-free card?” she asks, not seeming worried about it one way or another.

“Exactly. Every man’s dream.” Even I know I sound like an ass.

Hallie signs her name under the list before passing her pen to me. Getting a closer look at it, I see the word “Twat” has been inscribed on it.

“Cute pen,” I say, my brow raised as I sign.

“Inside joke with a friend.”

We’ve set the stakes, and I have to admit I don’t hate them. I like the idea of an easy ending.

I pull some cash from my pocket, leaving it on the bar as I stand up to put on my jacket.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Hallie asks, bewildered by my sudden movement.

“Hallie, they’re over half an hour late. I’m pretty sure we can write them off as no-shows, and it’s not like it’d be hard to believe we’d got sick of one another’s company and decided to call it a night.”

I reach out to her.

She looks at my outstretched hand, and I can see it on her face as she weighs her options, the pros and cons of this decision: It ends well, she leaves; it ends poorly, she leaves.

I don’t give her too long to think about it. “You don’t want to hold my hand? Are you worried about cooties?”

She smiles, decision made. “No, just your run-of-the-mill STIs.”

“You know that’s not how science works, right?” I ask, as if worried about her general level of intelligence.

She hops to her feet, an insult on her lips, a smile on her face, and a pep in her step. “I’m aware. It’s just how my faith in you works. Because, you know, I have none.”

I dramatically press a hand to my chest as if struck. “Hallie, you wound me.”

She raises her brows. “Really? Does it hurt? Are you bleeding? Can I see?” Bloodthirsty excitement colors her tone, even as she touches me all over, looking for this “wound.”

So much for her no-touching-in-public rule.

I withhold my smile, instead staring her down like she’s just a little strange. “That is messed up.”

She shrugs, unbothered. “Hey, I just like evidence of a job well done.”

“And I like it when your mouth has other things to do,” I say, pulling us full circle.

This time, it doesn’t sound like an insult; it feels like a game we’ve both agreed to play, and it feels strangely good.

Hallie’s lips find mine, and with that, the big ball of tension, the giant pink elephant that’s been following us around for the last week, seems to shrink significantly.

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