Page 64 of Best Man Speaking

“No, Hadrian’s was the first, followed by Troy.” She says this with a knowing smile, following behind me with our glasses.

I rinse our plates, and she opens the dishwasher. We work in tandem to get the few items put away. Thankfully, neither of us is fussy enough to have a system for how it needs to be done.

“Your interest in Troy had nothing to do with the wall and everything to do with Brad Pitt.”

“Still jealous?” she asks with a smirk. She points the fork she’s holding in my direction.

“Of course. I don’t think I could rock the leather armor the way he does.”

Although, from the way Hallie’s eyeing me up, I’d probably be willing to give it a shot.

“I’m happy to hear you admit it. That film was formative.” This was not news to me; she’d made me watch it more times than I cared to admit.

“Should I be worried you might try and kill me in my sleep, then?” I wonder aloud as I wipe down the kitchen counter.

Hallie pops her ass up and onto it. “Hmm, I like the idea of keeping you on your toes, but I think I’d personally go for a pillow over the knife.”

“Less mess?”

“Exactly.”

“Tea?” I ask, moving to turn on the kettle.

She looks out the window toward the pool house, where we both know she should be, but then turns back. “Yeah. Thanks.”

As I’m grabbing two mugs, she calls my name and, throwing me a sneaky smile, asks, “Wanna watchTroy?”

I groan. “Fucking fine.”

Chapter Nineteen

Hallie

It’s two days out from Vegas and ten days out from the wedding, with time in general speeding by way too quickly. Four weeks had felt like forever when I’d originally planned my trip—that no longer feels like the case.

Marcus and I’d spent the morning taking my final haul of items away to a local thrift store, leaving me exhausted and splayed out on his couch while he headed off to his office. But a call from Gwen at the real estate agency, letting me know there were two very interested parties in my property, has me on my feet and moving, full of restless energy.

An hour later, the smell of cinnamon buns welcomes me intoFirst & Last, and I’m grateful for the sight of Erica behind the counter. I find myself looking for some type of grounding force, the anxiety of making such a big decision weighing down on me.

Up until this point, selling Gran’s house had been something I’d spoken about in a futuristic way. Getting rid of the items of my past has been cleansing, regardless of the heartache. Butthe reality of selling this home? The loss of this one specific place means I’ll no longer straddle the line as to where home is. It’s the definitive line. There’ll be nothing here that’s mine to anchor onto, and until the sale in Edinburgh settles, I’ll be adrift. More than anything, that scares me. Because if I drift off, who’d notice? For a while there, it’d been all I wanted, but now I’m less and less sure.

“Why don’t you ever call me anymore?” The question pulls me out of my own mind and into my surroundings. It’s only then I notice I’ve been standing next to the small table Julian’s set up at, a stack of papers to be graded in front of him with an espresso cup sitting atop them.

I roll my eyes as if nothing’s out of the ordinary. “Hi, Julian. I’m well, thanks. How are you?”

“Well, I’d be better if my best friend spent more time with me and less time with my fiancée and brother.” He says it with a smile, both of us are aware that for him, this is the perfect scenario. One where I’m friends with his fiancée and don’t want to actively put a hit out on his brother.

The guilt of sneaking around rises, but I smother it. This current situation has an end date. As soon as the cord’s cut and I’m back on a plane, it’ll cease to be of importance. If only the thought of it didn’t make me feel even more on edge.

“I’m sorry, Jules, does your ego need stroking? Maybe if I slip Erica a fifty-dollar bill, she’ll take care of it for you.”

As predicted, his laugh is earnest, tone bright as he says, “And this is why I’ve always loved you best.”

I smile, relaxing as Erica makes her way over, having caught sight of us. She comes to stand by my side, her arm reaching around me to pull me in close. “You think $50 is going to be enough for me to stroke his ego?”

“I didn’t think you’d hear that,” I whisper abashedly, even as I lean into her embrace.

“How about I go and hold the fort for a few minutes?” Julian stands from his chair and reaches for the deep green apron Erica’s currently wearing. I’m grateful for his offer, even as guilt gnaws at me.

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