by Anna Durand
Damian had just started to rouse when my phone rang.
I tried to wriggle out from under him, but he was too sleepy to help much. So I resorted to gently smacking his cheek a few times until he woke up all the way.
"What?" he asked drowsily, pushing up onto one elbow. "Why are you hitting me? Spousal abuse can't start until we're married."
"Ha-ha. My phone is ringing." I clambered off the bed and snagged my phone from where I'd left it on the top step, near the head of the bed. I swiped right to take the call an instant before it would've gone to voice mail. "Hello?"
"Help!" Mara said, not actually screaming it but fake screaming instead, drawing the word out in one long exhalation.
"What's wrong, sweetie? Did something happen to Ollie?"
"No," she moaned, almost whimpering. "The wedding is in six days, and I suddenly realized I don't have any bridesmaids because I don't have any friends."
Oh boy, the wedding jitters had started early, and in true Mara fashion, she was freaking out. As her wedding planner, I supposed it was my job to calm her down. She was my friend too, despite what she'd just said, so it absolutely was my job to be there for her.
"Relax, Mara," I said. "Everything's okay. Why don't I come to your room? We can talk it all through, and you'll see there's nothing to panic about. How's that sound?"
"Yeah, okay. Thank you, Heidi."
I hung up and started hunting for my clothes. Damian had kind of ripped them off me and flung them wherever. And yeah, I'd done the same thing with his clothes. That suit lay here, there, and everywhere.
"What's up with Mara?" Damian asked.
"Oh, it's wedding anxiety, that's all. I need to take care of her this morning, so I won't be able to have breakfast with you."
"That's okay. The bride takes precedence." He sat up and stretched, yawning. "I'll check on Ollie. See if he's panicking on the inside. You know, the manly way men do."
"Uh-huh, sure. You boys go bang drums or measure your dicks or whatever."
We both got dressed—me in my dress from last night, since it was all I had, and him in his work uniform—and climbed out of the wagon. We both headed into the guest house, but we kissed goodbye on the first landing. Damian strode off toward the office while I continued up to the third floor where Mara and Ollie had taken up residence in one of the rooms ever since they got engaged. Yesterday, Mara had told me she and Ollie wanted to buy a little house near town, but they'd hadn't started looking yet.
After stopping off at my room to change clothes, I knocked on the door to Ollie and Mara's room.
Ollie swung the door open, looking harried. "Oh thank God. Maybe another woman can calm her down. Please, Heidi, she won't listen to me."
Poor Ollie. I wanted to hug him, in a friend way, but he pushed past me and hustled toward the stairs.
Mara sat on the bed hugging her knees and biting her lip. Her eyes were red and puffy.
I shut the door and walked over to sit on the bed next to her. "Did you guys have a fight?"
"No, it's nothing like that. I told him I don't have any friends, and I'll have to stand at the altar all by myself." She grabbed a tissue from a box on the bedside table and blew her nose. "Ollie said I won't be alone because he and Damian and Val will be standing there too, and so will the minister. That's when I started crying. And you know how guys are about tears. He told me to call my mom, but I called you instead."
"I'm glad you did."
"Ugh. I'm such a lunatic." She wadded up the tissue and tossed it into the wastebasket. "Ollie suggested it's hormones. What did I do? I managed to weep uncontrollably and shout at him at the same time."
"Ollie understands, I'm sure. Getting married is a big deal and comes with all kinds of stressful stuff that needs to be done."
She stretched her legs out, leaned back, and laid a hand over her lower belly. "It's more than that. Ollie doesn't mind if I tell you, so, um…" Mara sucked in a big breath and blew it out. "I'm pregnant."
"What? Mara, that's wonderful."
"I know, it really is. We found out yesterday, and at first, we were both over the moon." She shut her eyes and sighed. "But all this wedding craziness is getting to me. The hormonal mood swings aren't helping."
"Don't worry about any of that." I sat up straighter and pointed at myself. "You've got a crack wedding coordinator who's going to handle absolutely everything so the bride can take it easy."
"I can't make you do everything. I'm not even paying you."
"Forget about money. You are my best friend and seeing you and Ollie tie the knot is all the payment I need."
She half-smiled. "Thank you so much, Heidi. You're my best friend too."
I patted her knee. "And as for you not having bridesmaids, that's taken care of too. Eve and I will stand at the altar with you." I glanced at her red, puffy eyes, and realized I needed to do my best-friend job. "Let me get you a cool, damp cloth for your eyes and some chamomile tea to soothe your nerves."
Mara smiled a little more than she had a minute ago. "You're the best, Heidi. I love you."
"Love you too, Mara."
I hustled into the bathroom and got a cool cloth for her, then I insisted she lie down to rest. I settled the cloth over her forehead and partially over her face, so it covered her eyes. After that, I jogged downstairs to get the tea. Maybe I didn't have a paying job at the moment, but helping Mara made me feel useful in a way I hadn't experienced before. I couldn't regret quitting my job.
As I brewed the tea in the kitchen, I wondered if I might have found my new career path after all.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Damian
"Do women always go insane right before the wedding?" Ollie asked, though he didn't give me a chance to respond. "I mean, it's just a wedding, not a presidential inauguration. How could Mara think she doesn't have friends? Of course she does. I tried to calm her down, but no, she had to cry and sniffle and get all puffy-eyed and miserable. She wouldn't even let me hug her, and every time I tried to say something, she'd burst out crying again. She's gone totally nuts."
Ollie had stormed into the office a few minutes ago in a state of half panic, half misery, and flumped onto the chair beside the desk. I sat here in the big chair listening to him vent.
Now, my best friend threw his head back and moaned.
He wasn't angry with Mara. No, he had a much worse problem than that. He was so completely in love with her that he did the worst possible thing any man could do when a woman was upset for what, to us guys, seemed like absolutely nothing. He'd told her it was nothing.
Yeah, Ollie was freaking out too, but in a different way from how Mara had done it.
I was positive Ollie had told her it was nothing in a calm, patient, loving tone. But in my experience, that was also a bad thing to do when a woman started crying. When I'd told Ollie my opinion a minute ago, he had huffed and thrown his hands up, then said, "Then what is the right thing to do?"
"No idea, man," I told him. "Women are a mystery."
Ollie genuinely wanted to make his fiancée feel better, but being a guy, he didn't have a frigging clue how to do that.
Since he'd just finished his second diatribe and seemed to be taking a breather, I tried again to settle him down with a bad joke. "Maybe it's PMS. Girls go bananas when it's that time of the month. They can be like that chick in The Exorcist, so watch out if Mara's head starts to spin."
Ollie looked at me, suddenly calm and serious. "It's not PMS. Mara is pregnant."
"Are you serious?"
He nodded slowly.
I leaned across the distance between us and slapped his arm. "Congratulations, man. You're gonna be a dad. That's awesome."
"Yeah, awesome," Ollie said in a tone that suggested the news was the opposite of awesome.
"What's wrong? You're head-over-heels in love with Mara, and you've both been talking about having kids practically since the day you met."
"
I know, but…" He squirmed in his chair. "What if I screw up?"
"Come on, Ollie, that's nerves talking. Wedding jitters, isn't that what they call it?"
He shrugged. "I guess."
We both needed some booze. Yeah, that would help. Okay, maybe booze wasn't the smartest plan to help my best friend, but I couldn't think of anything better. Desperate times called for desperate measures, right?
That was probably one of the worst excuses for a bender ever invented.
I stood up and slapped his arm again. "Get your butt outta that chair, Ollie. We're going to the pantry."
"What?" Ollie compressed his lips and glared at me. "How is a visit to the food pantry going to make me feel better?"
"You'll see when we get there."
He grumbled, rolling his eyes.
I kicked his foot. "Up. Now."
Ollie grumbled again but pushed out of the chair.
And we trundled downstairs, through the kitchen, to the locked door at the back. I had a key, naturally, being the concierge, so I unlocked the door and swung it open.
"Computer nerds first," I said, hoping a friendly jibe might get a smile from Ollie. It didn't, so I walked into the pantry first. "What are you in the mood for this morning? Bourbon? Beer? Vodka?"
"Isn't it kind of early for drinking?"
"Not when the groom is having a panic attack."
Ollie scowled at me. "I am not having a panic attack."
"When sweet little Ollie gives me a dirty look, I know he's freaking out."
"I'm as tall as you are, which means I'm not little."
"Sensitive this morning, aren't you?" I started browsing the bottles on the shelves. "I noticed you didn't dispute the 'sweet' comment."
"Women like nice guys."
"Mara says you're a snuggly-wuggly wittle cuddle bear." If I couldn't tempt him to drink, maybe some ribbing would work.
Ollie came up beside me, arms locked over his chest. "When did Mara ever tell you that?"
"She didn't. I read between the lines." I threw him a sideways glance and couldn't resist smirking. "When she calls you a stud muffin, I translate that as 'soft and squishy snuggly-wuggly Awee the cuddle bear.' My Ludar lidar confirmed it."
"Maybe you shouldn't harass me when I'm panicking."
"Oh-ho," I said, pointing a finger at him, "you admitted you're freaking out."
"No, I—Well, it's—" He flung his hands up and snarled. "You are such an asshole, Damian."
"That's my job. To piss off the groom so he stops worrying about every little thing." I grabbed a bottle off the shelf. "Well, that and get booze for you."
Ollie eyed the bottle with a hint of suspicion. "You can't seriously think booze is the answer."
"Couldn't hurt."
"It's not even nine a.m. I haven't had breakfast yet."
"Okay, let's get some food to go with our gigantic stash of liquor." I spread an arm to indicate our surroundings. "While we eat, we get hammered. Deal?"
He studied me for a moment, an exceptionally long one. Then Ollie smacked my arm and grinned. "Let's do it. I mean, Mara might dump me for doing this, but so what? I'll crawl back and beg forgiveness like a true cuddly-wuddly computer nerd."
"Sounds like a plan."
We walked back into the kitchen and started rummaging around for the manliest foods available. That's what Ollie said, not me.
"We need manly macho man food," he'd announced as we exited the pantry, aka the Big Closet of Booze.
I didn't even try to figure out what "manly macho man food" was and let Ollie scrounge up whatever he wanted. This was his panic-attack binge, so I decided to stand back and watch while he tore open cupboards and practically climbed inside them in search of the elusive "manly macho man food."
My best friend had probably lost his mind, but it was kind of fun to witness it firsthand.
Our breakfast wound up looking like the fridge had barfed up the contents of a buffet restaurant. Four kinds of sausage. Bacon. Hamburgers. Oh wait, that was bacon cheese hamburgers, so kind of all one thing. What else? Steak fajitas, guacamole, queso, several kinds of chips, baked beans, ham sandwiches, French fries, sweet potato fries, hash browns… I kind of lost track of things after that, partly because we'd raided every cupboard and the fridge but also because we had started drinking somewhere between frying up burgers and scarfing down deviled eggs.
We did not eat all of everything. No, we kind of…sampled everything.
Except for the booze. We might've guzzled that. One shot every time we found something else to eat. First bite of guacamole? Have a shot of tequila, man. First taste of sweet potato fries? Time for some Jack Daniels. Hey, bro, is that some cheesecake in the fridge? Grab it while I steal a bottle of vodka from the pantry.
Maybe the rest of the morning would've gone better if we'd eaten too much and thrown up the food and the booze. Unfortunately, we sampled but did not gorge ourselves. Not on the food. The liquor… Well, that was a different story.
Ollie glanced at the food littering the island. He blinked in slow motion. "Whoa, dude. Who's gonna clean piss—I mean clean this up."
Every time he spoke the letter S, it sounded kind of like a snake hissing.
I slapped my palm down on the island and burped loudly. "We're, like, you know, in charge or something. Aren't we? Con-sssseee-erge and… What the hell are you?"
"Uhhhh… Assistant manger?" He busted out in guffaws, covering his mouth with one hand. When he pulled his hand away, it had spittle on it. "Did you ever notice assistant manger starts with 'ass'?"
"Dude, you're not a manger. You're a manager." I snorted out a laugh. "Unless you plan on having Mara pop out that kid on your tummy. Get it? Like a manger or…whatevers."
Ollie thrust a bottle at me. "You need more of piss. This. What was I saying?"
I held up a hard-boiled egg. "Ever notice how these look like tits?"
"No, they don't," Ollie said with a laugh that came out like a pig snort. "They've got eggs inside 'em, not on the ousside. Outside. Ugh, I can't talk anymore."
"Do too look like tits. These, I mean." I picked up two eggs and held them to my chest. "See? Hard-boiled titties."
He started guffawing again. "You need a bra, man."
Thinking about tits made me think about Heidi. Yeah, she had the awesomest, fabulosiest boobs on earth. I glanced down at the eggs I was still holding to my chest, and the most awesomest idea ever hit me.
I punched Ollie's arm. "Got a wicked-amazing idea."
"Ow," Ollie said, clutching his arm. "That hurt, dude."
"Don't be a wuss-face." I slid off my stool and snagged a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels. "Let's go find our woman-girls and, like, kiss them."
"Yeah, we should. Smack some love on 'em." Ollie sort of oozed off his stool and stumbled into me. "Let's do it."
We started for the door, but Ollie froze on the threshold. "Don't we, ya know, have to work or something today?"
"Nah."
"Awesome."
Yeah, two drunk morons thought it was a fantastic idea to find their girlfriends and show off how drunk they were.
At the time, it sounded like the best plan ever.
I grabbed Ollie's arm to stop him halfway down the hall. "We should change clothes first."
"Yeah," he said with a stupid grin. "And I know exactly what we should wear. The girls'll go nutso for it."
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Heidi
Mara and I were sitting on chaises watching Val and Sylvester playing kickball. They weren't concerned with who won but only with having a good time ribbing each other. Val wore his work uniform, but Sly went nude. Well, he was here to enjoy the naturist lifestyle.
Suddenly, Val froze with his foot on the ball. Something past our chairs had captured his attention and made his brows furrow.
"What's wrong?" Sly asked, then he tracked Val's gaze past us, and his face took on a similar expression.
"Is that… No, it can't be."
"It is," Val said.
Mara sat forward. "What are you two talking about?"
"Look." Val pointed toward the guest house behind us.
Both Mara and I twisted around on our chaises to see what had caught the men's attention.
Damian and Ollie were walking toward us. Well, staggering toward us. They would move in a straight line for a couple of seconds, then list one way or the other while laughing and slapping each other's arms. Ollie tripped—over grass, it seemed like—and Damian seized his friend's arm to keep him from tumbling over. Just when Ollie regained his balance, sort of, Damian stumbled and staggered sideways.
Oh no. It couldn't be. They wouldn't. Not this early.
They each wore some type of skirt that seemed to be made of hand towels held together by a band of purple duct tape around the waist. No shirts, no shoes, no socks, nothing but those skirts.
Mara leaped off her chaise. "Ollie! What's wrong with you?"
I knew she hadn't figured out what her fiancé's problem was because she looked panicky and worried. If she'd recognized the truth, she'd probably be yelling at him instead of racing toward him.
Damian and Ollie aimed lopsided grins at…no one in particular.
Oh yeah, no doubt about. They were wasted.
I jumped up and hurried after Mara.
The boys halted, waiting for Mara to reach them. I got there two seconds after her.
Ollie swayed, grinning like the drunken fool he was. "Mara, babycakes, you're so friggin' hot."
He slurred those words.
"Pshaw," Damian slurred. "She's nothin' next to Hi-dee-ho-ho-ho."
Ollie rolled his eyes at Damian.
Mara's gaze flicked back and forth between the two men. "What's going on? Ollie, why are you acting this way?"
