Page 3 of The Best Men
That’s when a chill enters my body. Because it’s go-time. No more rehearsals, just three awkward apologies.
Slowly, I cross the room toward Hannah, Flip, and Asher. One of them is frowning. One looks worried. One looks smug.
The answer is, yes, this night can suck more.
2
THE SLIDING SCALE OF HOTNESS
ASHER
And here I thought engagement parties were dull.
This one might have been, in spite of the fact that I’m throwing it. My opinion of marriage rituals is ambivalent at best. But here comes the bride’s brother slinking through the door, looking like a kid who’s just been caught putting a snake in the teacher’s desk. A venomous one.
So this party just got a whole lot more interesting.
Ever since meeting Mark several months ago, I haven’t known what to think about the buttoned-up banker with the midnight blue eyes. He’s always struck me as mild-mannered and carefully inoffensive. Like a striped tie, or a white dress shirt. I’m sure he owns both. In multiples. If he has a car, I bet it’s silver.
He works at a Wall Street bank, for fuck’s sake, doing something with math or spreadsheets. “He’s in derivatives,” Flip once said, and I’d shuddered because the word made me think of failing out of calculus class in college.
Sometimes, though, if you get a few drinks in a guy, the truth comes out. That’s what happened last night, I suspect. A little after midnight, when Flip and I were out on the balcony of his apartment, smoking a couple of Cubans I scored off a client, both our phones started pinging with drunk texts from the mild-mannered banker.
I should probably feel guilty for reading them. It was immediately obvious to both of us that Mark had only meant to text his sister. The four-way group text had begun only yesterday, as a quick way for me to plan this spontaneous engagement party, and Hannah was the last one to weigh in with an exclamation-laden (I can't wait for the party!!!)reply.
But did Flip and I stop reading? Not on your life. That text thread was a box of delights.
In the first place, I was fascinated to learn that Mark opposes his sister’s wedding. Most men would be over the moon to welcome Phillipe “Flip” Dubois III to the family. My friend is both loaded and head-over-heels for Hannah. He’s a good man, and she’ll never want for anything.
He owns a full-floor condo on Park Avenue, a Mercedes E-Class, and has a membership at Maidstone. Material wealth aside, I’m here to tell anyone who asks that he cried actual tears of joy when she told him she was pregnant.
But all that’s not good enough for our boy Mark, I guess. He wrote—in shouty caps, no less—that the marriage wasDOOMED LIKE THE TITANIC. I’M AFRAID FOR YOU ON THAT FLOATING DOOR.
Now that’s just dark. Besides, it’s not even a good metaphor. Everyone knows there was plenty of room for Leo on that thing. The MythBusters even proved it.
The whole ugly blowup was, however, entertaining. The next five minutes will not disappoint, either, since our buttoned-up Wall Streeter now wears the abashed look of a man who’s about to do the right thing and apologize to his sister and her fiancé.
I should probably walk away and give them some privacy. But I think I won’t.
“Hannah Banana,” Mark says in a rough voice as he approaches. “God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any of it.”
His sister grabs him into a hug. “Yes, you did, Marky Mark. You meant every last excruciating thing, including the mullet comparison. And I forgive you anyway.”
“Thank you.” He groans, sounding relieved. “I just don’t handle change all that well.”
“Gosh, you think?” she asks. “I know we just sprung this on you. The baby. The wedding.”
He grunts in acknowledgment as he hugs his sister. “How can I ever make it up to you?”
She pulls out of that tight hug and looks up at her brother. “Hold that thought. Because I do have a favor to ask a little later.”
“Anything. Whatever you need. But I do need to apologize to your fiancé,” he says.
“Good. I’d appreciate that,” she says, patting his arm.
Mark obviously left the rep ties at home tonight in favor of a dress shirt in a deep blue color that makes his eyes pop. I’m such a sucker for eyes. And he’s wearing a very sharp pair of glasses that accentuate instead of hide them. His glossy dark hair is cut in an attractive style that works with the whole boss man look he’s got going on.
Fine. If I’m being objective, he looks good tonight. Hot, even. I’ve always thought so.
