Page 8 of Best Man Speaking

“We’d love to,” says the familiar voice from beside me. The voice of whom’s owner I’ve yet to properly look at since he sat down.

My bag no longer has a chair, his body heat is doing funny things to my left side, and he wants to answer on my behalf? Yeah, no. This wasn’t how I’d seen this evening panning out.

“Are you serious?” I ask again, this time turning to look at Marcus or at least the profile of his annoyingly well-sculpted face.

As he turns to match my stance, I recognize his smile, but his eyes? They aren’t the same at all. The eyes of the man in front of me are shrewd, cold, and detached. Marcus might still be as handsome as ever, but there’s no sign of the sweet guy I thought I’d once known. The one I’d assumed was my forever.

Flinty eyes still on mine, Marcus looks down at me as if I’m some sort of problem he doesn’t understand and wishes would just go away. “Of course I’m serious. He’s my brother, and you’re their best friend. I can’t honestly believe you’re considering saying anything else.”

Guilt trip much? Not that he wasn’t right in saying so. Marcus might’ve been an asshole, but he was also, generally speaking, annoyingly honest.

I comb my fingers through my hair in frustration, moving it away from my face and tucking it behind my ears. “I’m not considering saying no. Of course my answer is yes, but the fact that…”

I let the sentence hang. Because, really, what am I going to say next?

The fact that you shattered my teenage heart still infuriates me?

The fact that I’ll have to look at your stupid face is not high on my list of things to do?

Or maybe…

The fact that you answered for me makes me want to claw your eyes out?

There’s nothing positive to say, so I leave it.

Instead, I give Julian and Erica a small, repentant smile. “I’m sorry. You just caught me off guard.” Throwing a pointed glance at Julian’s rather smug-looking sibling, I continue. “Of course I’d love to be maid of honor.”

Dinner becomes a bit of a blur. There’s food, some of which I eat and some I just push around my plate. The same goes for my wine, which I take to holding without drinking. I talk smack with Julian, I chat with Erica, and I listen to the two of them talk with Marcus. It’s a slightly surreal experience to be here with these friends of mine whom I haven’t seen in so long. It’s been three years since I’ve seen them in person, but right now, it feels like longer.

Whatever issue I personally have with Marcus, there’s no doubt they all love each other and are excited about the wedding. More than anything, what I become aware of is just how happy they are to be in each other’s company on a simple night out. How normal and natural it is for them.

A part of me knew it would be like this with them regardless of the upcoming wedding. No matter how I looked at it, they were all up to date on the goings-on in each other’s lives and the events of the last few years in general. I might keep in touch with Erica and Jules via text and social media, but it isn’t the same as being an actual, physical part of each other’s daily lives. The emotion in our chats wasn’t the same, no matter how hard we tried. From a distance, knowing this little bit of magic and friendship had been going on without me wasn’t so bad.

In person? It stings.

A lot.

New friends are great, but there’s just something about spending time with old friends—friends who know exactly where you came from and who you are—that’s unbeatable. And it’s something I’ve been looking forward to.

But I’m back with my “old friends,” and the feeling is still just out of reach.

Part of me wants to blame it on Marcus and his general existence, but a larger part of me knows better. Feeling displaced in the moment isn’t new to me; I’ve lived in a foreign country, after all. I just never would’ve guessed I’d feel displaced here and with these particular people.

I’ve missed these humans of mine, and I’ve missed out on being a part of the life they now have. I’m the one who’d left, and on more days than not, I’m glad for it. Today just isn’t one of them.

Finally, I open my mouth to speak, afraid my voice might crack after remaining unused for so much of the evening. “All right, I’ve gotten over the fact I’m going to be paired up with a fool for the duration of the wedding. What’s left for us to do?” I ask with an overexaggerated flourish. “I know you’re keeping things intimate, but there must be something you need help with. Unless this role is more like the best man’s, and I can sleep with a bridesmaid, lose the ring in a card game, and simply show up on the day.”

I focus a snarky little grin on Marcus.

Smiling, he responds. “Well, actually, now that you mention it, I’ve had it on my mind to not just sleep with a bridesmaid but to go for a trifecta of sexual acts on the night. I’m thinking a blowjob in the coatroom—to muffle the sound, obviously. Not ’cause I’m a screamer or anything; I just like to give instructions. Perhaps a hand job in the bridal room and a fuck in the gardens.”

Marcus pauses for a moment as if in deep concentration. “I haven’t settled on anything final, though. It’s going to depend on the weather.”

I inhale slowly, not wanting the flaring of my nose to give away my absolute frustration at his response. Pressing my tongue to the top of my mouth, I force the corners of my lipsup. It wouldn’t surprise me if he tried and succeeded in running that particular trifecta with each of the bridesmaids, but I keep that bitter little thought to myself. It’s nice to know his fuckboy habits haven’t changed after all this time.

Regardless of my opinion, Marcus gets a laugh from Erica, who says, “That’s all well and good, but you both know the only reason we’re even here is because if Julian made Hallie a groomsman, the whole event might’ve turned into a murder mystery night and not in the cute dinner party kind of way.”

The pride I feel in my friend’s knowledge of my slightly volatile nature really shouldn’t fill me with as much glee as it does.

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