Page 68 of Best Man Speaking

It was a terrifying thought, but unlike leaving, it didn’t feel wrong. Marcus and I might’ve agreed to live in the present right now, but once the wedding was done…I wasn’t against the idea of asking if I could stay in his pool house a little longer.

If he’d have me there.

If he’d want me there.

Things would be different between us. The deal we’d struck would be over, but a clean slate was no bad thing.

Except when I look at the time again, it reads 2:58 p.m. Not a big deal in the grand scheme of things, but it doesn’t stop anxious butterflies from taking flight in my stomach.

Opening our text chat with sweating palms, I flick through our recent conversations—the snarky, the silly, and the unbelievably sexy. It gives me the tiniest shred of confidence I need to type out a message to him similar to the one I sent allthose years ago. Because at the end of the day, regardless of what happens next, I still care about the exact same thing.

Hallie:You okay?

I leave it sitting on the screen, unsent. He isn’t late, not yet.

Chances are he won’t be.

3:00 p.m. hits, and every instinct inside of me is on edge, my fight or flight on high alert. Devastation feels like too strong a word to use, but the bitter feeling in my chest is real.

He’s not here.

I don’t send the text I wrote out, but I don’t wait around either.

I make myself move, collecting my bag and flowers, rethinking my every decision up until this point.

It’s the sound of another vehicle entering the parking lot that catches my attention, the low hum of an engine, the friction grind of tires on cement. The sight of Marcus behind the wheel instantly puts my spiraling anxiety at ease.

Stepping out of my own car, I wait for him, hearing through his closed windows as he ends a work call over Bluetooth. My relief at his presence is palpable—I feel it in the way every muscle in my body has softened since his arrival. And then, looking crisp in a white button-down, he’s out on the pavement beside me, truck beeping closed behind him.

“Didn’t mean to cut it so close to the line, but I had to pick up these,” he explains, lifting a bouquet of soft pink roses.

“They’re perfect.” It’s the only thing I can think to say as he walks alongside me.

And I decide to let it go.

To let go of the distrust I’ve been holding against him without due cause.

Because after everything, he’s here, exactly where he said he’d be.

Chapter Twenty

Marcus

Things I wish I would’ve had time to Google today includecorrect etiquette when visiting the grave of your ex-girlfriend’s grandmother. Except, I bet few others have been fool enough to find themselves in this situation: visiting the grave of a woman whose funeral I missed because I was busy breaking up with her granddaughter minutes before it started. Or perhaps they, like me, have been smart enough to keep their actions off the internet, knowing full well that every single Reddit user would agree that, yes,I am the asshole.

Let’s be honest. If I were a religious man, I’d still be doing penance for that day.

But I am sorry I didn’t come to pay my respects eight years ago. That I haven’t made the effort to stop by in the time since. Hallie’s grandmother had given teenage me more credit than I deserved. She’d seen how wrapped up I was with her granddaughter and let us spend time together instead of trying to pry us apart. Which hadn’t ended up mattering since I’d managed to do that on my own. But she’d believed in me—in Hallie—more than we’d believed in ourselves. I’d had a special mention in her will that’d proved it. Today gave me the opportunity to make amends in the smallest of ways. It’s what had me calling Erica, asking for a florist recommendation.

Flowers—who even knew the last time I’d bought them in person? The things I generally bought for women were dinner, drinks, and sometimes condoms if neither of us was already packing. Really fucking classy stuff. The flowers I send to my mom, I order online.

Today, however, I needed flowers, ones that I’d picked. Thankfully, Erica hadn’t laughed at my ass or made a single sarcastic comment. To be fair, I’d expected and understood that I’d been asking for both each and every time I opened my mouth these days.

And while all of this is true, it couldn’t be denied that I offered to meet Hallie here because I want her company. I want to be around her while I still have the chance, because, whether I like it or not, our time together is ticking closer and closer to an end.

I hadn’t missed the surprise on Hallie’s face when I pulled into the car space next to her, followed by that of swift relief. I knew without asking that some part of her had believed I wasn’t going to show.

She’s unusually quiet as I follow her along the packed dirt path, winding its way through the cemetery’s pristine grounds. Trees, flower beds, and wooden benches break up the rows of gravestones and markers.

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