Page 7 of Fight Or Flight

“Without a doubt.”

“It better be. Filling in as best man for the last three weeks has been rough.”

“It’s man of honour,” Amy corrected, then turned her death stare at Ethan. “You bribed him to help me?”

“Compensated.”

“You didn’t get what you paid for.” She shot a look at Adam. “All he did was tell me I need therapy and flirt with all my vendors.”

“Hey, I asked Ethan to bring the beer for research. Max and I are buying a pub.” Adam said. “I didn’t expect you’d be so difficult and drive me to drink.”

Ethan laughed and shook his head. He imagined Adam did a lot to help Amy. He was a great friend, almost like a brother to them both. But he couldn’t turn down attention from women, and patience wasn’t his strong suit. That said, he probablywasn’t far off with the suggestion that Amy seek therapy. This wedding was really taking a toll.

“You’re going to go to the barber, right?” Amy asked.

“I have an appointment Friday afternoon.”

“For a shave, too?”

Ethan raised a brow at her. She was puffed up like a cornered raccoon. “Yes, Amy.”

Adam took a few steps toward the front door. “I’m gonna put a couple of these in your fridge. You’re going to need them.” As soon as he’d passed Amy, he turned and looked over her head at Ethan and mouthed, “She’s out of control.”

Amy’s head snapped back toward him, but he’d wisely taken off.

“He’s on my last nerve. Do you know who he’s bringing to my wedding? Mrs. P.”

“Mrs. P.?” Ethan tried to place the name but couldn’t.

“Grade twelve English.”

It finally dawned on him. Mrs. P. was the pretty, young teacher that everyone had a crush on in high school. Ethan laughed.

“It’s not funny. He thinks it’s totally okay because he’s thirty and she left her husband. He keeps saying, ‘It’s Ms. P.’”

Ethan turned his smile away from her toward the back seat, though his bushy beard probably covered his smile, anyway. He wasn’t sure why Amy was surprised. Adam always lived without worrying about any consequences.

Whenever Ethan tried that, it blew up in his face.

He shook away the image of his ex-girlfriend that the thought brought to his mind and grabbed his suitcase from the back seat. After spending four hours of the day before in waist-deep, ice-cold water, he wanted nothing more than to walk into his house and take a hot shower. When he fell asleep last night on his hardcot, he literally dreamed that his hand was turning a tap and hot water was coming out.

Unfortunately, that would now have to wait.

He walked through the trees, counting how many there were. Some trees were looking wilted. “When did the trees get here?”

“About a day after you left,” Amy said.

Ethan let out an annoyed sound. “Have you been watering them?”

“Uh . . . no. But it rained twice. Sorry, Ethan, I’ve been too busy. Adam’s useless. My mind is everywhere.”

Ethan waved her off. It wasn’t her fault. “I’m going to be too busy this weekend to deal with these trees.”

“Yes, you are. We have the rehearsal Friday night, and the ceremony is at three on Saturday. I sent all the details in an email, but I don’t think you got it.”

“No,” he said. “There was no connection, and I haven’t checked my email since I left.”

He bent down to an oak tree and felt the dirt. It was bone dry. He moved to a few more, and they were all the same. There was no way they’d last any longer baking in the hot sun in their nursery cans. He’d have to get them planted right away. If he left now, he could borrow his dad’s trailer and get them all off his lawn and to the pond before dark. He might even plant some of them . . .

---