The Best Man (Chesapeake Shores Book 2)

by Andi Burns

  “What the hell? Why? What harm does it do just to let Barry and Nancy think we’re schtupping like our lives depend on it in the blissful love nest they made for us?”

  “Because it’s not true. We are not engaged. And, God, I know you think I sound nuts right now, but I’m not being nuts. You need to understand. The minute I play along—the minute I don’t stand up for what I need—that’s when it starts. Maybe it’s different for guys, I don’t know. But, Ev, I’m 30 years old, and I can’t begin to count the number of people who have asked me if I’ve found ‘the one’ or told me I have good hips for child-bearing. It’s fucking relentless. And it’s akin to torture, being a single lady at a family holiday. If you’re not being set up, then you’re being told what an asshole your last boyfriend was. Ask your sister—she dealt with the same crap. Well, after my last shitstorm of a relationship, I decided I was done with the crap. If guys can date casually and never even consider marriage, then so the hell can I.”

  I pause for a breath, and then keep right on going. “And how many times has someone asked you how many kids you’re having? And what did you say to the family members who disagreed with your decision to get a vasectomy?”

  “Uh, it wasn’t up for discussion.”

  “Exactly. No one would dare ask you that. But me? Ha. Every adult female in my family, with the lone exception of Stella, has told me I’ll change my mind about kids and marriage. But I won’t. I know what’s good for me. I know what makes me happy. And I’m fucking sick of having to play along to spare other people’s feelings.”

  “No worries this time, Molls. You haven’t spared mine.”

  “Fuck. You.” The words are out before I can stop them, and they hit his ears like a slap to the face. He refills the champagne flute and drains it, having absorbed my venom.

  “Look, that was mean, and I’m sorry, but you have to see where I’m coming from. Did you spare my feelings when you played along with Barry? No. A random stranger’s twisted idea of a nice gesture was more important to you than standing up for what you and I agreed on. That’s fucked up, Ev. I need someone who chooses me over manners.”

  “So, what you said to Victoria last night, that was all bullshit. All that about how you’re not here for marriage—which, clearly, is the case—but you’re just here for me. Yea, that’s the part I’m beginning to doubt.”

  “I have been here for you, Ev. I was here for the casual relationship that we mutually agreed on. You knew my feelings about long term relationships. I’ve never made a secret of that.”

  “Would it really be that bad?” His voice is barely more than a whisper, the champagne slurring his words just a bit.

  “That’s not what this is about.”

  “Isn’t it? Sorry, I must be confused.”

  “Look, I suck at relationships, but so does everyone else in my family. You know how many steps my family has. My parents have been married and divorced several times. I’ve seen countless examples of how marriage just tears people apart. Marriage brings heartache and anger and frustration and betrayal.”

  “You putting that in your Maid of Honor speech?”

  “Don’t be a dick. Look, I hope Simon and Elaine last forever, but I have seen enough awful relationships to know that I prefer to keep it casual.”

  “And that’s what we have, right? Would you call fucking on every available surface casual? How about the constant texts and calls? Is that all casual, too? Oh, and spending all our free time together? Still casual? Think about it Molly, we’re in a serious relationship, regardless of the label you do or don’t put on it.”

  His words sting, but I can’t think about them now. I don’t want to see the truth in them.

  “I know a thing or two about marriages breaking up. How do you think it makes me feel, having to watch my every move, so I don’t get too close or come on too strong? Maybe it makes me an asshole, but yea, I’d fucking love to claim you. I’d love for the world to know you’re mine, and I’m yours.”

  This is too much. I need to get out of here. I can almost feel the walls closing in on me. I move mechanically around the room, gathering the few items I’ve scattered around, and stuffing them in my case.

  Ev’s arm stills mine. “Molly, stop. You can’t leave—not like this.”

  “I can. I need to. I just need to get out of here and clear my head.”

  “Fine. I’ll call Nate, and he’ll take you down to the bar for a drink.”

  “No, Ev, I’m heading home. I just need to be by myself for a bit, think things through.”

  “Damn it, Molly. Please, don’t leave tonight.”

  “I need to Ev. There’s got to be a flight into Baltimore. I’ll take a few days to get my head right, and we can talk when you get back, ok?”

  “Jesus.” He takes another gulp of champagne—he’s just drinking straight from the bottle now, and I take a minute to check available flights. Luck is on my side, and there’s one that leaves in two hours, so I need to haul ass out of here.

  “Let me take you to the airport.”

  “No, Ev. First of all, that will be messy as hell. And besides, you’re too drunk to find your way home.”

  “This stuff packs a punch, I’ll give you that.”

  “It’s the bubbles. They get you drunk faster. Drink some water and then sleep it off.”

  “But you won’t be here when I wake up.”

  He’s killing me. “No, I won’t.”

  “Just, just wait a minute, ok?”

  “A minute is all I can give you. I got a seat on a flight that leaves at 7:00.”

  He types hastily on his phone and then looks up at me, pain shining in his eyes. God, it’s almost enough to break my resolve, but if I do, I’ll just be putting us both on this hellish merry-go-round again.

  “Nate’ll make sure you get to the airport safe and sound, ok. And text when you get in. I might be passed out, but I’ll want to know.”

  “Ev…”

  “You better go. My minute’s up,” he says and walks into the bathroom, an empty glass in hand. Before I think better of it, I open the door to find Nate waiting for me. Silently, he takes my suitcase, and I follow him down the hall.

  Nate hands me a fresh cup of coffee, and I’m grateful. I’d smile, but moving my face hurts.

  “Breakfast is on the way.”

  “You eat. I don’t even want to think about food.” The champagne alone wouldn’t have been so bad, but then I found a bottle of bourbon in the mini bar.

  Just then, there’s a knock on the door. A minute later, Nate brings in a tray overflowing with food. The delicious aromas of sugar and grease hit me at once, and, impossibly, I’m hungry.

  Nate laughs. “Yea, I thought you’d change your mind. Eat up. The food will absorb all the alcohol left in your system and then we can get down to work.”

  I’d balk at taking orders from my assistant, but we’ve become good friends over the last few months. Also, based on the events of last night, I clearly can’t run my own life at this point, so it’s probably best to let Nate take the reins.

  We dig into the food before us, and the room is silent for a few minutes while we eat. I take another sip of coffee before I say, “So, she seemed—”

  Drawing the shades, he turns toward me. “Just like the last five times you asked, she seemed broken-hearted. But, physically, she was fine. You know that. You said she texted last night.”

  Turning away from the bright light emanating from the window, I take my coffee and my waffle and move to the other side of the suite. Molly did text last night. At 9:15, she sent ‘Landed’ and at 11:30, she sent ‘Home.’ Not much room there for conversation, but at least I knew she was safe. “She did. I didn’t know how to respond without pouring my heart out or starting another fight, so I just replied with the thumbs up both times.”

  “You responded with emojis? Good Lord, save me from Millenials.” He shakes his head in frustration, then lifts the tray of food and places it down on the coffee tab
le in front of me. “Help yourself to eggs and bacon, my friend, I’m about to coach you through a breakup.”

  “We did not break up.”

  “And yet, the fact that I drove a crying woman to the airport last night would suggest otherwise.”

  I wince. “We didn’t. We’re just—”

  “If you say you were ‘on a break,’ heaven help me, I’ll lose my damn mind.”

  I’ve got nothing to say to that, so I shove a forkful of eggs in my mouth.

  “So, maybe we’re not quite ready to talk about the...whatever it was. Let’s get some work done. That’ll clear your head a bit.”

  Kid’s got a point. “Sounds good. I need to catch up on my emails, anyway. My inbox is likely flooded.”

  I grab my computer and top off my coffee. At least my head isn’t pounding anymore.

  “Uh, speaking of emails...check the one that just came in from Steve Akers.”

  “The Senior VP of International Accounts?”

  “Yep. He sent it within the last hour.”

  I read through the message. He wants to meet for lunch today to discuss a promotion. He doesn’t offer a ton of details, but it’s clear that this would be a step up.

  Nate clears his throat. “If you’ve got a lunch meeting in three hours, we need to get started, so you have plenty of time to clean yourself up.”

  I run my hand through my bedhead and down across my cheek, grazing the scruff that’s grown there in the last twenty-four hours. “Yea, sounds like a plan.”

  “Do I text him, or don’t I?” I’d say that my life has reached an all-time low, since I’m soliciting romantic advice from a high schooler. However, said high schooler is my stepsister, Ava, and she’s wise beyond her years, hair dye mishaps aside.

  “You can text him, but only once, so you’ve got to make it good.” She sips on her Coke and twirls her fries in ketchup, before popping them in her mouth.

  “Only once? That’s a rule?”

  “Pretty much, unless you want to look thirsty. That’s why you’ve got to make it count. You can’t just text some random chit-chat.”

  I nod, digesting her wisdom as I enjoy my milkshake.

  “On the other hand, you don’t want to come on too strong.”

  “This is harder than I remember.”

  “Is that because he matters more than anyone else ever did?” Ava asks.

  “Or, is it because you’re old and can’t remember back that far?” Winn smirks, and Ava throws a fry at him. He catches it in his mouth, of course.

  “Who decided to bring him along?”

  “We’ve been through this a million times, Av. We can’t leave him at home.”

  “Sadly.”

  “Haha. Joke’s on you guys. I know exactly what you should do, Molls.”

  “Oh my God, Winn. If you say she needs to go over to his place and show him her tits, I swear I’ll tell dad about your secret Pornhub stash.”

  “First, I live by the firm belief that no one related to me has tits. And second, dude. Dad totally knows.” And with that statement, he goes back to chowing down on his burger.

  “Wait a second, bud. You said you know what I should do, so spill.”

  “Hand over your phone, Molls.”

  “Molly, are you crazy? Don’t give him your phone. First of all, his hands are all greasy. Also, giving control of your phone and all its contents to your fifteen-year-old brother? That’s a big yikes.”

  “She’s got a point about the hands,” I say, fishing for a wet nap in my bag. “As for the phone, I trust you, Winn. But don’t make me regret it.” I pin him with what I like to think is a steely glare, but it probably more closely resembles the face of a pissed-off kitten.

  “Ok, but don’t come crying to me when he sends a TikTok of himself dancing to the best of Lil Yeezy to every one of your contacts.

  “Don’t listen to her. You can trust me, Molls. Also, I’m a great dancer.”

  I look at him and still see that chubby-cheeked little boy I used to carry around on my hip. I cave and hand him my phone.

  His hands fly across the keyboard in about two seconds. “Done,” he announces and goes back to his double order of fries.

  Shit. I’m afraid Ava was right. And I’m scared to pick up my phone. I stare at it like it’s a live animal that might bite me if I don’t approach it gently enough.

  “What did you do, Winn?”

  “Uh, exactly what you wanted me to, Molls. I fixed your problem, just like I said I would. Why are you staring at your phone like that? It’s not a rabid animal. Jeez. You guys have, like, no faith in me.”

  I pick up my phone with great care, but I can’t look. God, what made me think giving Winn my phone was a good idea? “Here, Av, you look.” I close my eyes and thrust the phone in her direction, and she takes it.

  “That’s some bullshit, Moll,” my brother complains. “Not only don’t you trust me, but you didn’t make Ava wipe her hands. Sisters are dumb.”

  “Oh, my God, Winn, you are such an asshole,” Ava says.

  Jesus. “What did he do, Ava?” I might actually be screaming at this point.

  ‘You said you wanted to text Ev to ask if you guys were still meeting at the winery next week, right?” Winn asks.

  “Yea…”

  “So, I texted Ev and asked him if you guys were still meeting at the winery next week. See? Problem solved.”

  “Oh, sweet hell. You didn’t.” I reach for my phone, glance at the screen, and see that it’s true. “Damn it, Winn.”

  “You have no one but yourself to blame, Molls. I tried to warn you.”

  “I should have listened,” I say miserably.

  “Are you two insane? How did I do anything wrong? You wanted to ask him a question, so I asked him the question. How in the world is that a bad thing?”

  “Winn, you have so much to learn about women,” Ava says, shaking her head.

  “Ugh, after having this weird-ass dinner with you two, I’m not sure I want to.”

  “Ignore him, Molls. I totally get it. You wanted to know that information without actually having to ask him. Now that the question is out there, you’re wondering if he’s wondering if that’s really what you’re asking.”

  “Exactly,” I say.

  Winn laughs.“That makes zero fucking sense, Av.”

  “Language. And your sister’s right. Now it’s out there. And I can’t take it back. And I can’t text again, because I’ll just look needy. But now I look bitchy because how is that the first thing I say to him after I left his hotel room in tears.”

  “Wait. This guy made you cry? Give me that phone back.” My baby brother looks all tough, coming to my defense.

  “No way are you getting your questionably clean hands on my phone ever again, Winn. And the crying was just as much my fault as his, I promise.”

  “So I should have typed that you’re sorry, and you want to talk about getting back together?”

  “My God, no,” I screech, before he even finishes his sentence.

  “That would be so much worse” Ava agrees, slurping the last of her Coke.

  “But don’t you?”

  “What I want isn’t really pertinent at this point. Between my issues and his needs, a relationship between us just isn’t going to work.”

  “But you love him,” Ava says.

  “I do.”

  “Dude. That’s depressing.” Winn’s right.

  “I know.”

  “Let’s order dessert.”

  Every now and then, my little brother has a good idea.

  We’re sitting in an airport bar since our flight’s been delayed a few hours. Nate was able to switch his ticket, and we’re flying back together, under the pretense of getting work done. But my mind is not where it’s supposed to be.

  “Focus, Ev, or respond to that text. Those are your only two choices.”

  “But what do I say? This doesn’t even sound like Molly. It’s so short and to the point. You read it, what d
id you think?”

  Nate closes his laptop, a clear sign he’s acknowledging the fact that we’re not accomplishing many tasks today.

  “Look, I’m not sure why you’re asking a guy, who lives for his Grindr account, advice about a long-term relationship, but here we are.”

  I flag down the server and ask for two Glenlivet on the rocks.

  “That was probably the best decision you’ve made all weekend,” Nate jokes.

  “You’re bold, Rinaldi. It used to be charming, now I’m not so sure.”

  “Drink up. I’m told the more booze a guy drinks, the more adorable I get,” he says.

  I sputter and nearly choke on a laugh. “Jesus, kid, you’re gonna kill me.”

  “A lot of men have said that to me, too.”

  “Sweet hell. Stop.”

  “Alright, alright. You came to me for advice, so that’s what I’m going to give you. But there’s no guarantee you’re going to like it.”

  “I don’t much care for my current predicament, so I’m open to suggestions.”

  “You need to grovel and get that girl back.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “But…”

  “But what? You want to hear that you were right?”

  “I was, mostly. She completely freaked out over the dumbest thing and then left before we could figure our shit out. How am I supposed to apologize for that?”

  “Wow. There was a lot of asshole in that statement.”

  I roll my eyes. “Look, I didn’t approach it kindly, and I definitely wasn’t at my best, but I’m not the only one in the wrong here.”

  “Of course you’re not. In a healthy relationship, both parties are usually at fault in an argument. But here’s my question, do you want to be right, or do you want to be happy?”

  “So, I need to ignore my feelings and just cater to her every whim? That’s your relationship advice. Christ, you’re right. You are not the best guy to go to.”

  “No, that’s not what I’m saying at all. Let me ask you this: in an ideal world, what do you want from Molly?”