Page 81 of Brushed and Buried
I take a sip of champagne, the bubbles sharp and bright on my tongue. “I’m not waiting for disaster. I’m just processing.”
“Processing what, exactly?” Her tone is gentle but insistent. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re fighting with yourself about something that should make you happy.”
The accuracy of her observation catches me off guard. Since Vince’s declaration to Dinah and the others, since our night together, I’ve been caught between hope and the familiar urge to protect myself from disappointment. Every time I catch sight of him, every time I remember the certainty in his voice when he said he wasn’t going anywhere this time, something in my chest loosens with possibilities I’m still learning to trust.
“We’ve got a complicated history,” I say quietly, staring into the golden liquid in my glass. “What if this time isn’t different?”
“Then you’ll deal with it when it happens.” Ayaka’s voice carries the practical wisdom of someone who’s learned to take emotional risks. “But what if it is different? What if you’re about to miss something good because you’re too busy preparing for it to go wrong?”
Before I can respond, Trevor’s voice cuts through the ambient conversation, calling for attention. He stands near the head table, grinning broadly with the kind of genuine happiness that makes everyone around him smile in response.
“Right, everyone, if I could have your attention for just a tick,” Trevor calls out, raising his champagne flute. The conversations die down gradually, faces turning toward him with expectant smiles. “Before we get stuck into dinner and dancing and all the properly organized fun, I reckon it’s time tohear from the man who’s put up with me longer than anyone has any right to. My best man, Vince Holloway.”
Applause ripples through the crowd as Vince steps forward. I watch him accept the wireless microphone, and despite years of football press conferences and public appearances, there’s something hesitant in his movement, how he clears his throat and shifts his stance. He’s never been someone who seeks attention, always preferring to let his performance speak for itself. But something in his posture tells me this speech matters to him in a way that goes beyond friendship duty.
“Thank you, Trevor,” Vince begins, his voice steady through the tent’s sound system. “And thank you all for being here to celebrate these two people who somehow convinced each other they were worth a lifetime commitment.”
The crowd lets out a chuckle. Becca beams from her seat at the head table, her hand entwined with Trevor’s.
“I’ve known Trevor for about ten years, which means I’ve had a front-row seat to some spectacularly bad decisions, questionable fashion choices, and at least three attempts at growing facial hair that should have resulted in intervention.”
Loud laughter erupts from the guests. Trevor raises his champagne flute in mock salute, grinning. “Cheers to that, mate,” he calls out, clearly delighted to be roasted at his own wedding.
“But I’ve also watched him become the kind of man who deserves someone like Becca,” Vince continues, and there’ssomething easier in his tone now, more natural. “Someone patient enough to teach him that matching his socks is actually important. Someone kind enough to laugh at his jokes even when they’re terrible. Someone brave enough to build a life with him, even knowing he still thinks Vegemite is an acceptable breakfast food.”
Becca laughs so hard she nearly spills her champagne. Trevor mock-glares at his best friend, but his eyes are warm with affection.
“The thing about love,” Vince says, and something in his tone shifts slightly, becomes more personal, “is that it changes you in ways you don’t expect. It makes you want to be better than you thought you could be. It makes you braver.”
My grip tightens on my drink. There’s something in how he says those words, something that feels less like generic wedding sentiment and more like confession.
“Some people change your life without warning,” Vince continues, his eyes scanning the crowd until they find mine and hold for just a heartbeat too long. “You meet them and suddenly you’re measuring time differently. Before them, and after them. And if you’re really lucky, you figure out how to tell them what they mean to you before it’s too late.”
The words hit me like a physical blow. It feels like every muscle in me locks up, and I have to focus on breathing steadily, on not letting my expression give away how thosesimple sentences have just reordered something fundamental inside me.
“Trevor and Becca have been finding their way back to each other since they were fifteen,” Vince says, his gaze moving to the happy couple. “They’ve broken up and come back together more times than any of us can count. They’ve navigated distance when life pulled them to different cities, learned to hold on even when it would have been easier to let go. Because they understood something most of us take too long to figure out.”
He pauses, and I can see emotion flickering across his features.
“Trevor saw what he wanted, and he went after it. He didn’t let fear or doubt or the possibility of rejection stop him from fighting for the person who makes him whole. And when they hit rough patches, when the distance felt impossible or the timing felt wrong, they chose each other anyway.”
My hands are shaking now, fine tremors I can’t control. Ayaka notices, her expression softening with understanding.
“That’s what real love is,” Vince continues, his voice expressing its own truth that speaks to more than just Trevor and Becca’s relationship. “It’s not just the easy parts, the honeymoon phase, the moments when everything feels perfect. It’s choosing each other even when it’s complicated, the timing isn’t perfect, or you’ve made mistakes that feel too big to fix.”
The tent has gone quiet except for his voice. Even the servers have stopped moving, caught up in the unexpected depth of what should have been a simple best man speech.
“It’s about second chances,” Vince says, and this time when his eyes find mine, they don’t look away. “About recognizing when something is worth fighting for, even if you were too scared or too stupid to fight for it the first time.”
My vision blurs. The champagne glass trembles in my grip, and I have to set it down on the nearest table before I drop it.
“Some love stories take longer than others,” he continues, his voice steady despite the emotion I can see flickering in his expression. “Some people need time to grow into who they’re supposed to be, to learn how to stop running from the things that scare them the most. But the good stories, the ones worth telling, they find their way back to where they belong.”
Tears spill over despite my best efforts to hold them back. I wipe them away quickly, hoping no one notices, but I can feel Ayaka’s gentle hand on my arm, offering silent support.
“Trevor and Becca taught me that,” Vince says, his voice thick with genuine emotion as he looks at his best friend. “Watching you two navigate every obstacle, separation, and moment when giving up would have been easier. You showed me what it means to fight for love, to believe it’s worth the wait, the risk, and everything it asks of you.”
He raises his champagne flute toward the head table, but his eyes find mine again.
