Page 150 of The Best Men
THIS JOB ISN’T EVERYTHING AND I MISS YOU ALL THE TIME AND I LOVE YOUUUUUUUUUU.
“Holy shit,” I whisper.
“What’s the matter?”
“My superhot wingman is drunk texting me.” And I love every single word. Especially that last part.
Valencia gasps. “Did he say anything mean? Isn’t that a thing with you guys?”
“He told me he loves me.” I don’t want to look away from the screen. I can’t actually. I just stare at those three words. And Ifeelthem too. Everywhere.
“Oh!” She covers her mouth with her hand. Then she scoots closer on the sofa to read over my shoulder.
OH SHIT I DIDN’T MEAN TO SAY THAT IN A TEXT I WANTED TO SAY IT IN PERSON. I WAS TRYING TO WAIT.
AND YOU WAIT TOO MUCH TOO. YOU WAIT FOR ME ALL THE TIME. BUT I DON’T KNOW WHY. I SNORE AND MY HAIR IS FLOOFY.
YOU NEVER COMPLAIN ABOUT MY STINKY FEET BUT IT’S ONLY A MATTER OF TIME.
TONIGHT I’M LISTENING TO MAROON 5’S DAYLIGHT ON A CONTINUOUS LOOP, LIKE AN EMO LOSER. BUT IT HURTS SO GOOD.
“Oh, that poor, sweet summer child,” Valencia says as the texts roll on. “Your man needs you.”
“I know,” I groan. “But there’s not enough of me to go around right now. This is the worst.”
“Mommmmyyyyy!” Alba calls. “Can Rosie sleep over tomorrow night instead?”
“Does Rosie want to?” Valencia yells back.
“Yes!” my daughter shouts. “Duh!”
“I should just text him back,” I say.
Valencia pokes me in the ribs. “No, Mark, please go into your super-tidy bedroom and throw a few things into a bag. Get your passport. Go to France. That’s what youshoulddo.” She locks eyes with me. “Tonight.Now.”
Wow. The moment she says this, I can actually picture stepping off that jet at Charles de Gaulle, hurrying towards the immigration line to see my man, kissing the hell out of him on his birthday.
But it’s just not practical. I have to work on Monday morning. It’s already eight on Friday. Plus, I have my kid. “I couldn’t do that,” I say, even as the image of Asher’s smile flashes before my eyes. “I can’t just walk out on you and Rosie.”
“You’re not,” she says firmly. “The person who needs you right now is Asher, not Rosie. She can spend the whole weekend with us, and she’ll have a great time. You need to be in France.Now. Go get your man. I’ll hold down the fort here. Seriously. How hard could it be?”
“Daddy!” Rosie yells. “I got icing on the pirate cat!”
“F-fiddlesticks,” I say, setting my wine down on the table in preparation for cleaning that up.
Valencia holds out a hand. “No. I got this. I got tonight and tomorrow night, too, if Bridget decides to go to the opera or the damn symphony. Go, Mark. It’s hard work finding your special someone. If you love Asher, go tell him so in person, and when you get your butt in a cab in ten minutes, text him that you’re on the way.”
She’s completely right. My guy needs me. My friends have my back. My kid is doing great. There’s only one place I need to be right now, and it’s not here.
My chest squeezes with gratitude for Valencia. I’m lucky to have this life. “Are you a hundred percent serious?”
“A hundred and ten percent.”
I meet her warm brown eyes. “Okay. I’m really going to do this crazy thing.”
Holy shit. I am.
“Hurry,” she says, then wags her phone as the door swings open, and Valencia’s wife strolls into the vestibule.
