Page 114 of If This is Love

He sat back in his chair and then squinted at the bottom of the camera. “Anyway, it says I’ve been talking for like six minutes, and I didn’t really mean to ramble that long. If you made it to the end, thanks for hearing me out.”

And with that, the video ended abruptly.

I sat stunned for all of five seconds before I clutched the phone to my chest, biting back the sobs that were attempting to lurch out of my throat. And then I really didn’t feel much like picking out a dress. I also didn’t feel much like fighting against the tears and couldn’t hide in this dressing room until they dried up because I didn’t think they ever would. So I just stumbled through the door and back to my friends.

Liza was now on the pedestal wearing an elegant, red, strapless, mermaid-style gown, and Skye was standing a few feet back, holding up her phone like she was taking pictures from multiple angles.

“I freakinglove it,” Skye was saying.

“Chloe,” I blurted out tearfully, alerting all of them of my sniffly, blubbering presence.

Her green eyes stretched to the size of saucers, and she leaped up from her chair. “Oh no, you watched it.”

She darted to me, holding the sides of my convulsing shoulders, and Liza and Skye gathered around to pat me and comfort me, and I was such a mess of heartache and love and a kind of brokenness that I’d never really felt before.

I waggled my head in a nod between more hiccups and sobs. “Chloe, I love your soon-to-be-brother-in-law, and I ambesidemyself.”

And I just cried. And my friends just hugged me. And I realized I didn’t even have friends here a couple of months ago. Look at me now. All wrapped up in love and hugs from women I prayed to have a lifelong friendship with while I cried over a man whom I could no longer live without. I felt completely broken and wasted, but I feltlove.

So much love.

30

GABE

FRENCH QUARTER, NEW ORLEANS

“All I’m saying is, I’m not paying for shit until the day before this wedding,” Connor declared from where he was lounging in a chocolate-brown chesterfield-style easy chair. He tilted his crystal tumbler of whiskey toward where Luke was standing on a small pedestal wearing a classic black tux while a tailor measured and pinned it in places. “You have been going on and on about how we’re all wearing dress blues for your wedding, and suddenly, you want us in tuxes.”

“I know, but look at this, bruh,” Luke countered, sliding his palms down his lapels and then jerking his chin at Brennan, who was in a large leather chair between Connor and me, swirling his scotch and staring contemplatively at the popping, crackling fire in a corner of the wood-paneled room even though it was in the upper sixties outside. “This shit right here is his friggin’ secret sauce. There’s nothingthatspecial about him, he just knows that women view a damn fine suit like men view some spectacular as fuck lingerie.”

“Corporal, I amheartbrokenthat you don’t think I’m special,” Brennan said with a smirk while he hovered his glass at the level of his mouth.

“You know what I mean, bruh,” Luke huffed, then turned to me. “Hey, bruh.”

“Luke, you really need to add some variety to your vocabulary,” I grumbled, staring at my glass of whiskey.

“Psh.” He waved his hand, nearly backhanding the tailor in the process. “What do you think about this one?” He hitched his shoulders, holding the jacket together at one button in the middle. “It’s more of a suit.”

“Itisa fucking suit, Luke,” I clipped.

“No, but I mean it’ll have a regular tie instead of a bowtie.”

A phone rang, piercing the serene, subdued atmosphere of the upscale menswear boutique in the French Quarter and rattling me down to the marrow in my bones. I rubbed the bridge of my nose and fought mental pictures of what I could remember of the night Ruth and I were together. I now had post-traumatic stress about my own post-traumatic response. Meaning, thinking about getting triggered that time was now triggering me.

Gunner pushed up from the floor and laid his head in my lap, and I rubbed the top of his head. “Then you’ll be doing Deneau a favor.”

“He-ey…” Connor whined, pulling his phone slightly away from his mouth and looking at me. “Y’know, I’ll have you know I figured that shit out before Riley’s wedding ended, and I’ve been practicing lately.”

I hid my mouth behind my glass and chuckled under my breath.

“Yep, he’s right here,” Connor continued into the phone, “Love you. See you in a few hours.” He tossed the phone onto Brennan’s lap. “Liza needs to talk to you.”

Brennan picked up the phone, holding it to his ear as he stood and strolled, drink in hand, out the door. Connor stretched his legs out in front of him and slouched in the chair, taking a long, slow sip of whiskey.

“Okay, you know what, bruh,” Luke said, thebruhin question this time being the tailor, “I want to try that one with three buttons and the double satin stripe down the legs.”

“Oui, of course,monsieur,” the tailor said in what I was convinced was a fake as fuck French accent, and then he guided Luke off the pedestal and down a hall.

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