Page 8 of Best Friends for Never

He laughs, the door closing behind him. I watch as he carries the lumber to his truck, his shadow monstrous behind the plastic we have covering the windows so as not to spoil the remodel’s big reveal.

My phone, which is tucked into my front-center pocket, buzzes against my chest, and I don’t even have to look at it to know what it is. It’s the same notification I’ve been getting every day for six months at this time—a countdown.

It’s just as much a reminder of how behind I am as it is a ticking clock to the one thing I’ve been wanting for over a decade.

I look around the space that’s filled with workbenches and boxes of tables and chairs that still need to be put together, covered with dust from all the drilling and sawing. It’s Monday evening, and this projectmustbe completed this week. We’re running out of time, and we still have to finish the molding, complete the accent wall along the back of the café, mount the display cases, paint the walls,anddecorate this place from head to toe by the wee hours of Friday morning at the very latest.

Because Friday? It’s the Big Day. The day we kick off the theater renovation.

Our small town has been without a theater since I was eighteen, which, in my eyes, is a true travesty.

Erected by one of the town’s founding families, the Goodman Theater was once an integral part of the community. When I was younger, I’d heard so many stories through the years of the elaborate plays that were put on there that I knew I had to be part of it.

Sadly, the theater was not the same magical place it once was and deteriorated more and more the older I got. Fewer and fewer people wanted to put on plays no one attended. It was finally closed for good when a huge storm blew through town and caved the roof in.

Finally, after countless meetings where I went toe to toe with some of the most influential names in this town, too-close-to-call votes, and a generous donor, a massive renovation of the theater that was such a staple in my childhood has finally been approved.

I’ve been fighting for this day for so many years, yet now that it’s so close, I’m looking forward to it less and less. Not because I don’t want to head this project—I really do. After all, I genuinely believe theater has the power to change lives, especially since it changed mine. Watching performances on that stage was once my favorite thing to do, and I want the town to experience that aliveness again.

No. I’m not looking forward to it for a whole different reason.

The donor—an anonymous one I still know nothing about—had one stipulation and one only: the theater is to be named after the now-famous actor who got his start on the very stage.

That ultra-famous actor? He’s my former best friend.

The one who pulled the same stunt my father did—left town and left me behind. The guy I haven’t seen in ten years. The guy who, in so many ways, is responsible for who I am today.

The guy I am absolutely terrified to see again.

I didn’t want to invite him, but if I wanted this theater built—which I do more than anything—I had to. So I assigned the task to one of the other committee members and shoved it out of my mind to deal with later.

Well, later is almost here, and that old gnawing feeling of guilt has been steadily rising for weeks.

“Earth to Parker!”

A giant hand waves in front of my face, and it’s so beefy it’s enough to pull me from my stupor.

Axel’s back. And from how deeply his brows are tucked together in concern, he’s been back for a while and I’ve been ignoring him. He’s even standing on the other side of the table, which means I completely missed his massive, thudding footsteps when he came back inside. That’s how in-my-head I just was.

I wish I could say it’s the first time that has happened, but it’s not by a long shot.

“You okay?” Axel asks, twisting up his lips.

I nod, grabbing my sketches and trusty iPad, stuffing them into my work bag, and slinging it over my shoulder. “Yup. Tired. Long day.”

His perceptive brown eyes narrow slightly, probably because I’m talking in short sentences, a tendency when I’m annoyed. I hold my breath, silently begging him to let it go and not hold me here for questioning, because I’m not so sure I want to get into it right now. It really has already been a long day, and I’m not in the mood to rehash my past and all the reasons I don’t want to see my old best friend. Even if I weren’t heading up the theater project that will bear his name, in a town this small, our paths would have no choice but to cross.

I guess with all the bad luck I’ve had lately, the universe decides to throw me a bone, because Axeldoeslet it go.

My shoulders sag in relief.

“I feel that. Are you still coming for dinner tonight? Mary’s making lasagna.”

“And miss my favorite meal in the whole wide world that my mother doesn’t need to know about because she’ll be completely jealous I don’t loveherlasagna the most? Of course I’ll be there. Seven?”

He nods. “Bring some wine?”

I huff. “It’s like you don’t even know me, best friend.”

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