Page 59 of Best Man Speaking

“You could always take a flying leap off something steep.”

I laugh at her unrelenting ability to let me find satisfaction in this conversation. It annoys me to think that Erica was right. I don’t know the last time I’d had so much fun just being with anyone.

I can feel Hallie’s gaze still on me, even after I’ve moved my eyes back to the road. “At least I can say I’ve officially banged one of the bridesmaids.”

She reaches over, squeezing my upper thigh a little too close to the family jewels. “I wish you wouldn’t say anything.”

I continue speaking as if she hadn’t said a thing. “The true fantasy is fucking a bridesmaid up against a wall in the coatroom, midway through the wedding reception. Dress hiked up around her thighs, teeth pressing into my neck as she comes, leaving just the tiniest bit of lipstick on my collar, all before the best man’s speech has even happened. Fingers crossed there are no panties involved, but either way, she’ll feel where I was for the rest of the night.”

There’s only quiet in the car, the sound of our breathing obvious in the small space. I know she’s thinking about it. Imagining it. Hopefully, wanting it. Wanting to set every single rule on fire right along with me.

“I’m ready to sit on your face now.”

She shocks a laugh out of me, the sound rich to my own ears as I reach down to turn the radio up. I have to admit, no matter what happens next, this time between us hasn’t been boring.

Chapter Seventeen

Hallie

“Dinner last night wasn’t terrible,” Erica says noncommittally from her seat across the table from me. We’re patiently awaiting Jules and Marcus to arrive at Broughton House, their picture-perfect wedding venue.

She’s right—the evening had been nice enough for us to eat outdoors on her and Julian’s beautifully restored back porch. It’d been relaxing with just the four of us.

“Is that a comment on your husband’s cooking?” I reply, tucking my hair behind my ears. I’m unwilling to be the one to bring up the ease with which this dinner panned out in comparison to our last.

“No. I mean, Julian was brave enough to put out steak knives, and no one lived to regret the decision.”

The table had been beautifully set withthe good stuff, generally saved for more trusted visitors and elderly relatives, I’m sure. I would’ve put money on the fact Julian had used his teacher skills to ensure we’d been on our best behavior: “Put out the good plates and glasses, and they’ll rise to the occasion.”

“Well, if we want to talk semantics, if things had gone badly, no one would have survived it.” Bringing my legs up, I cross them on the seat of my chair as if I were a child sitting on the floor at school.

“You’re being obtuse.” Erica’s eyes roll at my general lack of cooperation.

With her long, dark hair pulled up into a knot on the top of her head and an oversized T-shirt hanging off one shoulder, she looks both chic and at ease. For a bride-to-be, she’s more relaxed than I’d expected, but I guess when you decide to cut the original guest list by seventy-five percent, a lot of the pressure eases.

“Nice word. How many points does that get one in Scrabble?”

“Eight,” she says with a resigned sigh, and I wonder how she hasn’t gotten sick of me as a friend sooner.

“Not as impressive as I thought.”

“Neither is your ability to change this subject.”

“Fine. What is it you want to know?” I ask, aware that, for multiple reasons, there’s so much I won’t be able to say. Not without asking Erica to keep secrets from Julian, and that’s just not something I’m willing to do.

She looks over to the glass doors leading toward the main foyer, where we’re sure to see if Marcus and Jules show up. “How does it feel to be around him again?”

I know the fooling around and teasing has stopped now; this is my best friend wanting to know how I’m doing.

“Honestly? At first, I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me every time I had to look at him. But it’s better now. We talked, and we’ve got to toe the line of Julian’s truce, so there isn’t a lot of room for error. I’ve been meaning to tell you, actually, I liked your addition. Super tasteful.”

Erica snorts in dry amusement. “You’re welcome. I was hoping you’d take it as a rule to break, but to each their own.”

When I don’t say anything, she continues. “I know you haven’t wanted to talk to me, or to anyone, about Marcus for a long time now. How Julian has gone so many years without mentioning his own brother to you boggles my mind—my man has self-control. But that’s off topic.” She pauses for a moment, seemingly considering her next words. “What I want to say is that even though you don’t believe it, Marcus has most likely wanted to talk to you and clear the air for a while now. He isn’t a bad person, Hal. I don’t think he ever could’ve been a bad person. Young and naive? Maybe. But not bad.”

I pull my chunky gray cardigan a little tighter around myself. “You’re not telling me anything I haven’t already thought of myself. I know he was never a bad person, not in the way bad is bad.”

I pause, hating the vulnerability of my words. “When Marcus broke up with me, it was worse than I could’ve imagined. I lost so much all at once that I just couldn’t bear to hear anything about him because I missed him. So, I trained myself to not ask about him, and friends were kind enough to not bring him up. I didn’t want him to not exist; I just didn’t want to hurt.”

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