The Worst Best Man

by M. J. O'Shea

  “I can hold the blanket if you want,” August said.

  Christopher hesitated for a second, then handed him the blanket. He noticed the tag flapping on it and realized he’d forgotten to take it off when he ditched the shopping bag in a garbage bin. August must’ve noticed too. “Did you just buy this? From Burberry?”

  “Um, yes? Yes. I got a bit excited and left the house without a blanket. That shop was on my way to your office.”

  “I can’t imagine being you,” August said with a slight headshake.

  “It’s not that glamorous. Really.”

  “Right. Not at all. Your sitting room looks like Hogwarts, you grew up in a castle, and you just dropped what, a thousand pounds on a blanket because you accidentally left one at home? Sounds pretty glamorous to me.” August was smiling, though, instead of bitter, teasing Christopher about how little he noticed the world he lived in.

  “Maybe it is glamorous.” Christopher made a face. “But most of the time, I miss our little flat in Oxford. I’ve never been that happy anywhere else.”

  “I miss it too.”

  THE park was beautiful and a bit crowded, since it was the first decent spring day they’d seen after a sopping wet March. Christopher spread his blanket and removed the lunch he’d bought for them.

  “There is pasta salad, sandwiches, juice and water, cookies. Pick whatever you’d like.”

  “This all looks incredible. Breakfast was a long time ago.” August plucked a falafel and halloumi wrap from the pile. “I love these. They’re delicious,” he said sheepishly. He peeled the paper off and took a huge bite. “Oh God. This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten. I swear.”

  Christopher would’ve replied, if he wasn’t about to choke from the way August moaned around that damn tortilla. It was sexy and innocent. It was torture. They were in public, and Christopher would do just about anything to hear that sound again. He smiled wanly.

  “You okay?” August said.

  “Yeah. I’m good.” He cleared his throat. “I think I’ll take the egg salad.” There were a few more sandwiches in the bag. Christopher had bought one of everything since he didn’t know what else to do. He should’ve guessed August would want the falafel and halloumi. He knew him after all, inside and out, even if they hadn’t spent much time together lately.

  Christopher opened waters for them and tossed August the apple juice.

  The date went well after that. At least Christopher thought so. He calmed down a bit and managed to laugh with August. The whole point was just them getting to know each other again. No pressure, which was a huge joke as far as Christopher was concerned. He needed this to go well. It was the most important thing that had happened to him since uni. August told hilarious stories about his clients, and a friend of his and Will’s named Weezy. Christopher found himself a bit jealous of the people who’d been in August’s life all along. Very jealous, probably. There wasn’t anywhere he could go but forward, though. He planned to do that, as long as August would let him.

  “I’ve got to get back,” August said about an hour later. “I have a ton of things to do before I leave tonight, and I don’t want to miss the last train.”

  “That late?” Christopher said. He didn’t know when the trains shut down at night, but it had to be later than the normal time to leave the office.

  “Unfortunately.” August hopped up and dusted himself off, even though all he had were miniscule fibers from a thousand-pound designer blanket. August gathered the blanket up and folded it reverently. “I still can’t believe you just bought this because it was on the way. Who does that kind of stuff?”

  Christopher did. Regularly. That was when he didn’t have someone else buy it for him or have the designers bring things over for him to try on. He didn’t want to be that guy right now or get all serious when it wasn’t necessary. He also didn’t want to lie.

  “I got my trust when I turned twenty-five, and I’m good with investments. Money isn’t really an issue for me, August. I rarely think about prices of things unless the price tag is in the millions.” He didn’t like to even say it out loud. For years, Christopher’s wealth had embarrassed him in a way. It was much more striking when he was back with August, who’d started making him feel that way in the first place. “But it doesn’t make me happy. None of it does.”

  “I believe you. You can’t buy happiness, just a really fabulous blanket.”

  Christopher laughed. “You should keep that. I bet it gets cold in your office.”

  August gave him a look—one of those “too soon” looks.

  “I should say no.”

  “Don’t say no. It would look lovely with the sofa in your office.”

  “Okay.” August blushed. “Thank you.”

  Christopher reached over and snagged August’s hand, twining their fingers together. They passed a group of girls who grinned and waved at them, then giggled behind their hands.

  “This feels like….” He didn’t know how to finish the thought without dredging up a bunch of stuff.

  “Before. I know it does.”

  “When do I get to see you again?” Christopher asked.

  “Maybe Friday? I have a lot to do this week, including making sure all the flower arrangements are booked for Miss Libby.”

  “I can do Friday. Can we go get drinks somewhere?”

  “Definitely. I pick the place. I don’t want to end up in one of your members-only clubs.”

  “You pick the place.” Christopher hadn’t been in a pub since uni. He supposed it was never too late to be introduced to them.

  “Can I hug you?” Christopher asked when they got back to Helena’s. It probably wasn’t the coolest move, but he just really, really wanted to.

  “Yeah,” August breathed.

  He reached up with his free arm and wrapped it around Christopher’s neck. Christopher returned the hug and breathed August in.

  “I’d forgotten how good you smell,” Christopher said.

  He thought August made a sniffling sound in his neck, but he couldn’t be sure.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Just… you too. I’d missed it. See you Friday?” August finally whispered.

  “Yeah. Friday.”

  He somehow managed to make it home, where he collapsed on the sofa with Fergus and stared at the ceiling for a good hour.

  Friday. He could make it until then, but it wouldn’t be easy.

  CHRISTOPHER had forgotten just how loud pubs could be. He hadn’t been in a pub in a really long time—not a normal public pub at least. He had drinks occasionally at the club, with other members who also probably didn’t go to public pubs. They’d probably laugh if they knew where he was. But honestly, he kind of liked it. The rarified air of Home House had nothing on a boisterous pub on a good night. Christopher breathed in and smiled.

  He thought maybe it was more than just August coming back into his life. Maybe he was coming back a little bit as well.

  The pub was nice enough, a little rowdy with the Arsenal vs. Manchester City game on, but it felt cozy somehow—far cleaner than the place where he and August had hung out with friends back in uni. He spotted August sitting against the wall in a booth… with someone else who had his back to Christopher. Christopher didn’t get it. He thought it was just the two of them. He wasn’t sure if his nerves could handle meeting friends just yet. And then he saw it was the other planner from Helena Preston. Will. The one who was August’s closest friend and had likely heard the entire story of how Christopher used to be the biggest coward in England and chose money and pressure over love.

  “Hey,” August said. He looked a bit sheepish. “You remember Will, right? He walked me here from work, but he was just leaving.”

  Will looked stubborn and not very interested in leaving August alone with someone he deemed unworthy. “Hey.”

  Okay, he definitely hates me. Christopher didn’t blame him. “Do you two need a refill?” Christopher asked. “I’m still up, so I can definitely g
o to the bar.”

  Sucking up with extra pints couldn’t hurt anything, right?

  “I’d love one,” August said.

  “I’ll walk up to the bar with you,” Will said.

  Fantastic.

  Christopher saw August flip Will a glare. Glare or not, Christopher knew he was about to get the dressing-down he deserved.

  “You know you’re not going to hurt him if you want to keep your skin, right?” Will said as soon as they were at the bar.

  Christopher nearly laughed. “You don’t waste much time on pleasantries, do you?”

  “I’m serious.”

  “I know.” Christopher breathed in. “The last thing I’d ever want to do is hurt him. I promise.” He didn’t know how much the friend really needed to hear, but he probably was going to be an obstacle unless he understood just how much Christopher didn’t want to hurt August. “I made the biggest mistake of my life pushing him away when we were kids. I was twenty-one. It was a lot of pressure. I’ve regretted what I did ever since. I’d never do it again.”

  “I wish I could believe you.”

  Christopher gestured to the bartender for three pints. “You can. Will, I love him. I’ve always loved him, and I still do. I’m not going to hurt him. I want him back in every way he’ll let me have.”

  “Okay. Just… be careful. He’s not as tough as he acts.”

  “I know.”

  They stared at each other for a few tense moments. Christopher got that Will was August’s best friend, but nobody knew August like he did, not back when they were together and not still. He was relieved when Will seemed to shrug it off. Will took his pint and lifted it in the air.

  “Cheers, mate. Thanks for the pint,” he said. Then he turned and walked back to the table.

  WILL stayed for one more beer, then left as promised. August scooted a little closer to Christopher after that, and they shared a few more beers and a lot of flirtation—far more than Christopher expected, to be honest. He tried not to push it too far, but he wanted to be all over August, touch him, hold him, make sure no other guy could come close. Christopher cupped August’s thigh and leaned closer. He figured that wasn’t too much. August leaned closer as well, so he guessed he was right.

  “I really want to kiss you right now,” Christopher said. “I’ve been thinking about it since that night at Longwick.”

  “I want to kiss you too. Is it too soon?” August asked. He reached over and curled his hand around Christopher’s thigh. It was so sexy to have his touch right where it belonged. Christopher clenched his jaw for a moment to get over the sensation, and then he shook his head.

  “I think it’s been a hundred years.”

  He leaned in farther and brushed his lips across August’s in a tiny kiss, but enough to make him shudder.

  “More,” August whispered. “It’s never enough with you somehow.”

  “I know. It’s never enough with you either. I don’t know how I managed without it.”

  Then Christopher kissed him slow and deep and sure, and it was the best thing he’d felt in a long, long time.

  They closed the pub down that night, and Christopher insisted on driving August home—well, riding along as his driver did it. They kissed for a long time outside of August’s building too. Christopher thought he should probably be embarrassed that his driver, who’d worked for him for nearly five years, saw him snogging in a car like a teenager, but he didn’t care. He didn’t want to let August out of the car either.

  “I’ve gotta go before one of us does something we regret,” August said.

  “I wouldn’t regret it. I’d never regret touching you.”

  He was definitely going to regret making a fool of himself in front of an employee. But that was for the morning. Right now, he couldn’t get enough of August’s touch.

  “We’re a little drunk, and I need to go to bed.” August slipped out the door, and Christopher followed him to the edge but didn’t get out. August leaned over and gave him one last kiss. “I loved tonight.”

  “I did too.”

  “I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

  Like it was even a question. “Of course. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  AUGUST was nervous again. They’d been talking and texting and meeting all week, and then there was that kiss last night at the pub, and it was perfect and he was just so scared something was going to pop up and ruin it. They were working toward getting back to where they had been, and it was going so well. It couldn’t last. He had a bottle of wine in his hand and a box of cheesecake for dessert. Christopher had promised him dinner—something delicious and warm he’d said, since the charming English weather had taken a turn for chilly and wet overnight.

  He was glad Christopher had said to just come straight down the stairs to the kitchen door and meet him. At least it was fairly sheltered.

  August looked through the window and saw Christopher scurrying toward the door. He had on an apron, and his dark hair was messy. He had on a long-sleeved T-shirt and a pair of khakis, and he looked so much like the Christopher August used to know that it made his heart hurt. He was looking more and more like him every time they met—the shadows were melting from his eyes, and he looked so open and happy. That was the biggest difference, not his clothes or his hair.

  “Come in. I’m just about finished.” August noticed the coffee table was set for dinner and pillows were scattered around it on the floor. There were jar candles lit all along the fireplace mantel, and the whole place looked like some scene out of a romance movie. He remembered the dining room upstairs had been formal and just this side of stiff and uninviting. Instead, Christopher had set up something so charming and perfect. August held out his wine.

  “Will this go with it?”

  Christopher looked at the bottle. “Yes, that will be delicious.”

  “Good. I’m sure there’s an incredible wine cellar lurking somewhere around here, but the man at the Sainsbury’s said this was good.”

  “I’m sure it’s fantastic.”

  “Can I help you with anything?” August asked. He didn’t know why he was being so formal, seeing as they’d left each other with heated kisses the night before and traded flirty texts all day.

  “Nope. It’s all done. Have a seat, and I’ll bring everything over.”

  August sank onto one of the pillows and watched as Christopher brought over a gorgeous-looking bowl of pasta primavera, a big salad, and a baguette with some brie and butter that looked like it had herbs in it.

  “You’re going to have to roll me out of here if we eat all of this plus the cheesecake I brought,” he said with a giggle.

  “I know. We’ll take our time. Eat slowly.” Christopher tore off some bread and put it on a small plate with a wedge of the cheese and a dollop of butter. “I’m in no rush.”

  August’s phone buzzed in his pocket. “I’m sorry.” He pulled it out and checked. It was Will. Will who was running a corporate dinner with Louise and had been less than thrilled about the fact that August was going to be alone in Christopher’s house.

  “He’s not Jack the Ripper,” August had said.

  “I still don’t like it,” Will had grumbled into his coffee.

  Will didn’t have to like it, but he did apparently need to text August with a million details that he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. It was more than transparent, and August was getting annoyed.

  “He hates this, doesn’t he?” Christopher asked.

  “Big time.” Will had warmed up to Christopher slightly the night before. Slightly. August didn’t know if Will was ever going to get over what Christopher had done years ago. Louise probably would, but it was a sore spot for Will.

  “Does… I don’t know how to ask this.”

  “What?” August chuckled.

  “Does Will have a thing for you? He seemed awfully jealous last night.”

  August nearly choked on his pinot grigio. “Oh my God, no.” He couldn’t stop the giggles. “
Will is the epitome of straight guy. He’s just really, really protective. Like if my little brother JJ had moved to England and decided he hated every guy I ever dated. Which he would.”

  “I’m excited to meet that one eventually, then,” Christopher murmured.

  “Nah, get through Will and you’re golden.”

  “So he’s not secretly in love with you?”

  “Nah. Not at all. No feelings other than the brother type. Actually, if she weren’t about to get married, Libby is exactly his type.”

  Christopher nodded. “I could say the same about her.”

  “Because Will is so much like Edward.” August snorted.

  He really hadn’t been very impressed with Edward. He also kind of got why Christopher did what he did if most of the people he knew were like Edward and the guys from uni they barely hung out with. August didn’t fit in with them at all.

  “Edward, ironically, isn’t Libby’s type at all.”

  “How do you know? Haven’t they been together since the dawn of time?”

  “They broke up a few times when we were kids. Even in our twenties. Every time she dated someone else, they couldn’t have been any less like him.”

  “Do you wonder why they’re getting married sometimes?”

  Christopher shook his head. “No, I don’t really wonder. It was expected of them. I think a lot of times in our world, people do what’s expected of them.” He gave August a pointed look.

  “I think that happens in every world, babe. The rest of us just don’t do what’s expected of us in Rolls-Royces and polo clubs.”

  “Ouch.”

  August winked. It still hurt, but he had to admit, it was getting better. The way Christopher looked at him and kissed him and made him feel like there was nobody else in the world? It helped. A lot.

  Dinner was better than drinks had been, which was better than the picnic had been. Every time they were together, it felt more and more right. More like the way they’d been before. By the time they finished their cheesecake slices, he felt like he belonged in that space with Christopher. He definitely didn’t want to leave. Nothing would’ve marred the dinner if it hadn’t been for Will’s incessant messages. Technically, August had gotten a reprieve and was on call if not actually at the event, so he wasn’t supposed to turn off his phone. He was damn tempted, though.