Page 65 of The Boss

Chris turned to face me, arms crossed, expression wary. “What do you want, Zac?”

I faltered. I knew I should get straight to the point, say what I came here to say—but his presence still affected me in a way I couldn’t deny. “How, um… how’ve you been doing?”

Chris blinked, like he hadn’t expected that. “Fine.” His tone was cautious, like he was waiting for the trap.

I nodded, tucking my hands into my pockets. “So… what’s new?”

He gave me a look. “Really?”

I exhaled through my nose, tilting my head toward the space outside. “You and Darren seem pretty tight.” The words were casual, offhand, but I felt the sharp edge beneath them.

Chris raised an eyebrow. “He’s my coworker.”

“Seemed like more than that.”

A smirk tugged at his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “What’s it to you?”

I shrugged. “Nothing.” I wanted to press, to demand something I had no right to, but Chris was already shifting his weight, brows drawing together.

“Are we done with the small talk?” he asked, voice edged with impatience. “Because I doubt you pulled me in here just to chat about my life.”

I breathed out, forcing myself back on track. “No,” I admitted. “I need a best man.”

His brows pulled together. “Excuse me?”

“My best friend—Paul—he broke both his legs. He can’t make it.”

Chris stared at me like I’d just spoken another language. Then, suddenly, he let out a sharp laugh—more disbelief than amusement. “And you wantmeto do it?”

I forced a nod. “Yes.”

His laugh turned into something closer to a scoff. “Wow. Do you even hear yourself? Do you even care how fucked-up this is?”

I stepped closer, the space between us growing smaller, heavier. “I care.”

His eyes glistered with something unreadable. “Then why me?”

Because I had no one else. Because despite everything, he was the closest thing I had to a real friend. Because the thought of standing at that altar with some near-stranger beside me felt unbearably hollow. Because Ineededhim near me, even if I couldn’t have him. “I need… someone I can trust,” I said instead. “You know how to handle yourself. You know me. And I know this is a lot to ask, but I wouldn’t be asking if I had another option.”

Chris searched my face like he was waiting for the catch, like this was just another way for me to twist the knife, a toxic power play of some sort. But then something in him shifted. A flicker of something resigned. “Okay,” he said, quieter now. “I’ll do it.”

I hadn’t realized how tense I was until those words landed. Relief settled over me, but it was short-lived.

Chris crossed his arms again, studying me. “Not just for you,” he added. “For myself. I think I need to see it—to see you marrying her. Maybe that’ll help me let go.”

A sharp pang lanced through my chest, but I ignored it. This was what I wanted, wasn’t it? For him to move on? I swallowed. “Thank you.”

Chris gave a small dip of his head, but the air between us felt heavy, laden with things neither of us could afford to say. I needed to leave. I needed to turn and walk away before I did something I couldn’t take back.

Instead, I lingered.

“Are you heading back to Maine for Christmas?” I asked. The words felt insignificant, but I needed to hear his voice a little longer.

He ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, for a week. I want to see my family. I miss my home.”

A strange, hollow feeling settled in my stomach. “Right.” I wavered for a moment. “That’s good.”

Chris inclined his head, watching me like he was trying to figure something out. A beat of silence stretched, and I knew this was where it ended. I should let him go. I should turn and walk out that door. But my feet betrayed me. Instead of stepping back, I took half a step closer.

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