Page 117 of The Best Men
38
SOMETIMES MEN KISS EACH OTHER
MARK
Asher and I are at the same table during lunch, but he seems a world away.
He’ll be a transatlantic flight away in a few more days.
And I’ve got to be okay with that.
So I don’t try to talk to him at lunch. Just like I didn’t look at him during the ceremony. It’s too hard. Stirs up too much.
I’ve scarcely seen him since this morning. Don’t want him to know I was about to go full romance flickwill you be mineon him.
But I’m not pissed. No point in that. I’m just damn glad I reeled in myhey, let’s do this, since it’ll make it possible for me to handle running into him again in New York whenever that next happens.
Lunch is stunning, though, courtesy of Chef Garnier. True to his word, every morsel is terrific. Even the vegetarian option.
Good thing Hannah and Flip elected to have their wedding happen earlier in the day. In deference to Hannah’s pregnancy, they deliberately planned an event that’s not a booze-soaked late-night fête.
After lunch, we play beach games in the sand—shuffleboard, cornhole and volleyball—and dance under the tent. I take a spin with Hannah and my mom and Rosie, and wish I could dance with the other best man. DJ Drake shows up on time and performs exactly as I asked. Fruit and cheese are served next, with a coffee service just as the cake is cut.
The wedding goes off without a hitch, from the flowers to the cake to the tent. Never have six hours flown by so swiftly. It’s still daylight, but my time in Miami has run out, along with this brief romance.
Guests are leaving. The parking attendants’ pockets are full of tips. The music has ended.
And at the edge of the lawn, my daughter tugs on my hand. “Daddy! Is it time?” She has that crazed look in her eye that children get when they’re on the brink of a Disney World vacation. “Mommy packed my suitcase! She put it in the car.”
“Right.” I glance around the grounds, looking for Asher. And, yeah, saying goodbye is going to be hard. But it’ll be even harder if I can’t find him to do it.
“Daddy, where is your suitcase?”
“In the guest house,” I tell her. “Why don’t you hang out with Mommy for a few more minutes, and I’ll go get it?”
“Hurry, Daddy!”
“I will,” I promise.
With a brisk pace, I head for the tiny house where I’ve had so much fun this week.Fun?that’s how I’ll have to file this away. When I duck inside the front door, I hear the sound of a zipper in Asher’s room, followed by the sound of a suitcase handle retracting.
Thank fuck. I’ve caught him.
“Hey, Asher? I, uh, came to say goodbye.” I haven’t stumbled on words in days.
A moment later, his face appears in the doorway. He drags his suitcase into the living room with him. “Hell, Banks. I don’t even know what to say. It’s been . . .” He shakes his head, then smiles at me. “It’s been—” He stops. He peers behind me.
“Daddy?”
I whirl around to find Rosie standing in the doorway.
“Are you ready? Is it time for Disney World?”
“In a second,” I say, waiting for her to turn around and leave again.
But no. Rosie enters the house and crosses her arms over her chest. And waits.
Asher lets out an awkward chuckle. “Hey, cutie. Are you going to meet Mickey Mouse?”
