by Ana Sparks
Asher laughed, smiling at me, and I felt something in my chest tighten. Was this what being in love was like? This tight feeling in your chest like you were going to burst at any moment?
“Looks like I missed the first dance,” Asher said, gesturing at the hardwood dance floor set up where Mary and Josh were in the middle of their first dance.
“It’s fine,” I whispered, realizing we should keep our voices low since we had a wedding videographer filming all of this. “I helped Mary through her panic attack this morning; she’ll forgive me for missing a few moments of her first dance.”
There was the mother-son dance and the father-daughter dance, and the whole time, Asher held me from behind with one arm around my waist and the other wrapped around my chest. I leaned back into him, swaying slightly with the music, just soaking in the feel of him standing behind me. I liked the warmth of him and the solid weight of him keeping me propped upright. It was like I could depend on him.
For those few moments, it was like we were in our own little time bubble, safe and protected from the rest of the world, and I wondered if this was what Mary and Josh had felt while standing up on the altar. I hoped that it was, because this was a nice feeling. A perfect feeling, in fact.
Then, the music changed to something slightly more upbeat, and the rest of the guests started heading out onto the dance floor. Asher grinned, looking down into my face. At this angle, I had to tip my head up to look into his eyes, and he kissed me quickly, softly—so sweetly, that I almost started crying. What had I done to deserve this patient, funny, charming man?
“Want to dance?” he asked.
I wasn’t about to say no to an offer like that.
Asher let me out onto the dance floor, where he quickly proved that he actually knew how to waltz. I was crap at it and told him so, but he just laughed and told me to relax and follow his lead.
Sure enough, it was easy to follow him. I just paid attention to his body, the little movements of his hand at my back as he whirled me around the dance floor. We danced like that for a few songs, Asher whirling me and me laughing like an idiot, feeling like a princess as we glided around the other couples.
Then, the music slowed down and Asher guided my arms up around his neck and wrapped his own around me as tightly as he could, so that I could rest my head just beneath his chin.
“I feel a bit like we’re back in high school,” I noted.
“Your high school boyfriend was never this handsome and devilishly charming,” Asher pointed out, all matter-of-fact, as if he had personally known Jake, my high school boyfriend.
I laughed quietly, into his shirt. “True.”
Someone grabbed my shoulder and whirled me around, out of Asher’s grasp, and I found myself staring into Mary’s flushed face.
“Jess!” she said, drawing out the ‘s’ sound. “You’re looking at the new Mrs. Porter!”
“I am!” I said, laughing. “An already drunk Mrs. Porter, I see.”
“Oh, pssh, it’s my wedding; I can drink as much as I want. ‘Specially ‘cause I’m celebrating. ‘Cause it’s my wedding. And Josh is going to do the most amazing things to me tonight with—”
“I am so glad you decided to do a buffet while everyone danced because there is no way you’d have made it through a three course meal without embarrassing yourself,” I told her, laughing. “Where is this new husband of yours? I need to give you back to him so he can keep an eye on you.”
“Ooh, who’s this?” Mary asked, looking past me to see Asher standing there.
I looked over my shoulder. Asher, for some reason, looked really uncomfortable. Almost like he was bracing himself. Maybe he wasn’t comfortable around drunk people? He didn’t know Mary, after all, and drunk Mary can be rather…exuberant.
“Oh my God,” Mary blurted out, suddenly sounding more sober than she had a second ago. A lot more sober.
“When I decided that I was going to come over and meet Jessica’s new love interest, I had no idea I’d be in for this surprise.” She looked at me accusingly. “You didn’t tell me that you were dating Dr. O!”
I know it’s not physically possible, because Josh works in physics and has informed me of this fact many times, but I swear that it felt in that moment like the entire earth stopped with a sickening lurch.
“Dr. O,” I repeated, praying that I had misheard her. “As in the guy you wanted to set me up with, as a client? The guy who…” I trailed off, unable or unwilling to say the rest out loud.
I wasn’t sure which one it was. Lord knew how many people could be listening in right now.
“The guy who helps you have your first orgasm! Yes!” Mary had no such qualms and, on top of it all, was very loud. I prayed for the floor to open up and swallow me. “That’s what the ‘O’ stands for, right Asher?”
Any doubt that I’d had about who Asher was suddenly shattered. I’d never told Mary the name of the guy that I was seeing. If she knew that his first name was Asher without my telling her and without her ever meeting Asher until this moment, then he had to be who she said he was.
I’d been dating a liar.
“I hired him for you!” Mary explained.
I looked over at Asher, who was unusually pale and shaking his head very slightly at Mary. Normally, I would have warned him that Drunk Mary wouldn’t know subtlety if hit her in the face. But normally, I would not be confronted with the fact that my new boyfriend was, in fact, the sort-of-prostitute doctor—or whatever you called the male version of a prostitute—that my friend had paid to sleep with me, without my knowledge and without my consent.
So, I didn’t warn him. I just let him dig his grave even further.
“Tell her, Asher!” Mary said.
By now, I could see Josh making his way over out of the corner of my eye, clearly realizing that Mary was saying something she shouldn’t be saying and hoping to diffuse the situation. I wanted to tell him it was way too late for that. Mary turned back to me.
“I hired him! I know you said no, but I knew that you’d feel so much better if you would just see what you’d been missing, and then maybe you would be more confident about dating and you could be as happy as Josh and me, Josh and I? Whatever. So, I hired him and I guess it worked out better than I expected because now you two are dating!”
Mary clapped her hands together, as if this was the greatest thing ever. I narrowed my eyes.
“So when you called me, canceling our meeting at Piper’s, that was on purpose?”
“Oh, yeah, totally,” Mary replied. “I’m good at fake crying, wouldn’t you say?”
When I had finished murdering Asher, I decided, I was going to murder Mary as well. I’d make her murder quick, because she had been my good friend all of these years, but now she had also lied to me and manipulated me and—
“What is the one thing,” I said, “The one thing that I hate, Mary? What is the one thing that I told you never to do to me after you went to Dairy Queen without me and lied about it because you felt bad for not waiting for me, because you wanted to go while the cute guy was still working his shift?”
Mary finally seemed to realize that this wasn’t a good thing that was happening right now, because she shrank back a little and her voice got very small.
“Don’t ever lie to you?” she offered up.
“Exactly.”
I felt like a complete heel, ruining Mary’s wedding like this, but she had lied to me! My best friend had gone against my wishes and done exactly what I had asked her not to do, and she hadn’t seen a problem with it! What the fuck?
“Don’t lie to me, Mary, how hard is that to do? I wasn’t interested, I didn’t want to be fixed, I didn’t want some random gigolo quack doctor guy—”
“I actually do have a medical degree,” Asher piped up.
I rounded on him. “I suggest you shut up right the fuck now.”
Asher, to my shock, actually shut up. I guess I was scarier than I’d thought when I was angry. I looked back at
Mary, who now was leaning on Josh, who had his hands on her upper arms to keep her still and support her. And I don’t just mean emotionally—I think she was in danger of falling over from the combination of shame and alcohol.
“You could have ruined my career!” I yelled. “What if Tamara found out about this? That I’d—hired this guy? I could have gotten in massive trouble! This is borderline illegal! In fact, it might be actually illegal! And you—you manipulated me, without a single second thought, because you thought that you knew what was best for me despite my very clearly stating that I didn’t want to talk about this and I didn’t want a visit from Dr. O!”
Mary looked like she was about to start crying. I took a deep breath. This was Mary’s day, her happiest day, and I couldn’t ruin that for her, no matter how much I wanted to keep screaming at her until I lost my voice. That was when I realized how silent it had gotten. Even the music had stopped.
I looked around. Everyone was staring at me. Some people were whispering, obviously wondering what was going on. Josh’s mom looked pissed, and I realized that what I had just said was not about to earn Mary any points in her mother-in-law’s book.
Everyone was staring at me. Me, who liked to just sit and watch. I was not the center of the universe, the life of the party—the bitch of the party, more like.
I couldn’t take it. I couldn’t handle everyone starting at me like I was a free television show. I couldn’t stand the whispering I could hear starting up. I couldn’t stand that my friend had lied to me and now I looked like the bad guy for yelling at her about it at her wedding. I especially couldn’t stand Asher hovering there like he thought he had a right to say something.
I was a lot of things, but I never said that I was brave.
I ran for the door.
Chapter 12
Asher
I stood there the entire time, listening in quiet horror as I realized what Mary was saying. I saw the puzzle pieces click into place for Jessica, and I saw the anger that blazed to life in her eyes—anger that I had never seen before from her.
I wanted to say something. I automatically made to say a joke, to reaffirm that I was in fact medically licensed, thank you, but that immediately and obviously backfired. Now, I had no idea what to say.
Jessica looked like she was going to break down in tears. It was like when her parents had shown up at the restaurant, only ten times worse.
Mary looked small and shrunken, the opposite of the Mary that I knew, and her fiancé—now husband—looked like he didn’t know whether he should chastise Mary, defend her, or put an end to this entire affair and send everyone home. Everyone was staring as well, and I remembered how Jessica had told me that she wasn’t a party person, that she liked to just be on the outskirts and people watch.
This must be hell for her, I realized.
So when Jessica turned and ran for the door, I didn’t stop her. I didn’t call out. I couldn’t prolong this scene, not when she was so clearly desperate to get out and away before she completely broke down. I couldn’t make her stay, and if I tried, I had a feeling she would hate me even more than she already did.
She paused, just once, in the doorway, and looked back at me. I’m not a particularly romantic guy, but I’ve seen some romantic comedies in my time, and there’s usually a moment where one of the protagonists, usually the woman, will look across a crowded room or street at the man, and there’ll be this ‘I’m about to cry but I can’t’ look of heartbreak on her face.
Those actresses, I realized then, didn’t know shit about what a broken heart looked like.
The look on Jessica’s face wasn’t forlorn, or struggling to be brave, or brimming with unshed tears. It was devastation. Complete and utter devastation. It was like someone had smashed their fist into a piece of china, scattering the pieces everywhere, crushing what had once been beautiful into nothing but sharp edges and dust.
She looked destroyed.
Then, she was gone.
I would like to say that I didn’t mope, that I took action immediately like the heroes in films, but I didn’t.
I totally moped.
I took down my website and canceled all my future client meetings. I couldn’t go through with it, not with Jessica’s words ringing in my ears. I’d manipulated her. I’d dated her under false pretenses, lying to her the entire time about who I was. I had met her parents and charmed the pants off of them, and the entire time I had been lying about it.
On the third day, I realized that I couldn’t be Dr. O anymore. I put in some applications for local hospitals as an OB/GYN, citing personal family issues as the reason I hadn’t been operating in the years since I’d graduated from medical school. Since my father had died of cancer and I’d gone into this business to pay off my student loans, it was sort of true.
And what was one more lie at this point, especially to people I didn’t care all that much about, compared to all of the lies I’d told Jessica?
I got some positive responses on my applications, but by the time a week had gone by, I had to admit that I was moping.
So, I broke down and I called Jane.
Jessica had given me Jane’s number as a joke, back when she had bet me about getting Lanie to finally realize Jane’s feelings for her. “That way,” Jessica had said, “You can call Jane and get to know her better beforehand so you can really know what you’re talking about when you talk with Lanie.”
It had been a joke, and I don’t think Jessica had seriously expected me to play matchmaker and call Jane, but here I was, with the one phone number that could help me get Jessica back.
I could have called Mary, of course, but first of all, she was on her honeymoon, and second of all, I had no idea where things stood with her and Jessica. I didn’t want to accidentally kick a hornet’s nest. Again.
The phone rang a few times before Jane picked up.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Jane? This is Asher. I’m a…friend…of Jessica’s.”
There was a very, very long pause. Then,
“I know who you are.”
“You, uh, heard about me, huh?”
“Yup.”
That one word said it all.
“Listen, I know that I fucked up. Big time. But I need to find some way to make it up to Jessica and I don’t know what to do. Please, can you help me?”
There was another long pause. Finally,
“Do you love her?”
“What?”
“Personally, I think that you should apologize to her no matter what, but if you’re not in love with her, then I would just recommend a card. Mail it. But if you are in love with her—”
“I am.”
I didn’t realize it until the words were out of my mouth, but it was true. Why else would I want to charm her parents, to hold her close while dancing? Why else would I go to a wedding where I knew the bride might sell me out, even if I hadn’t anticipated the fiasco that had unfolded? Why else would I keep staying with her, and sleeping with her, even when it had become clear that I had failed and that I couldn’t give her the pleasure that she deserved, that I knew she wanted even if she wouldn’t admit it?
I loved her. I was in love with Jessica.
There was a chuckle from Jane.
“Well, you’re lucky it’s me and that I know a thing or two about being in love with someone who’s angry with you.”
“Jessica told me about Lanie,” I said, before I could stop myself.
“Fantastic,” Jane muttered. “Let’s have the entire world witness my humiliation, shall we?” In a louder voice, she added, “Okay, so, if you want to win her back, you have to prove that you are listening to what she’s saying and being honest with her. You have to prove that you’re in this for her, not for the money or for the notch on the bedpost or for anything else. Can you do that?”
“Yes,” I said immediately.
“And you have to promise her that you’ll never lie to her or do anything like that again.”
&n
bsp; “Done and done,” I promised.
“Good. So, find a way to prove all of that to her. Have fun.”
Before I could ask how on earth I was supposed to prove all of that, Jane had hung up on me.
Chapter 13
Jessica
When Asher showed up at my door, I almost slammed it in his face. I couldn’t, since he stuck his foot in the way and that prevented me, but I gave it a good try.
“Just come with me, please?” he asked. “I know that I acted like a total sleaze and a liar and I want to find a way to make it up to you, so, if you could just give me an hour?”
I really didn’t want to. I already wanted to cry just from seeing him again, and I’d done enough crying—and ice cream eating—over the last week. But he looked about as bad as I felt, with circles under his eyes and his hair all disheveled, and well, I was in love with him.
So I said yes.
The drive in his car was silent. I thought that he might try to apologize some more once we got in, but he just drove quietly. After about twenty minutes, he parked the car on a residential street and we climbed out.
“This is where I live”, he said, taking me to one of the apartment buildings. “I haven’t ever taken any of my clients here, but I wanted to show it to you. So that you could get to know me. The real me.”
I didn’t say anything to that. I didn’t know what to say.
Asher led me up the elevator and into his apartment. It was a bit larger than mine, and had a much bigger kitchen, the kind of kitchen that you have when you like to cook and do it frequently.
On the kitchen table was a computer. Asher opened it and turned it so that the screen was facing me.
“I’ve taken it down,” he said, “But I took some screenshots and saved them, so you can take a look.”
It was the Dr. O website. I hadn’t even known that he’d had a website. Maybe I should have taken a look—but no, there were no pictures of him or any other identifying information, so it wasn’t like I would have been able to put the puzzle pieces together sooner.
