Best Man

by Katy Evans

  I take them from him and peek inside. There they are. A little thrill passes through me as I touch the cool platinum. The tension I’ve felt in my neck this whole trip starts to ease.

  “Geez, this place is a shithole.”

  I raise my head to see Miles’ eyes ping-ponging around the place, that superior glare back. I’ve never been to his flat in downtown Denver, but I imagine that his housekeeping staff must hate working for him.

  But he’s right. It’s a bachelor pad. There’s not a painting on the wall or a decorative element anywhere. “So he’s not Martha Stewart. I’ll fix things when I move in.”

  “Will you?” He seems doubtful.

  Well, I’m sure nothing I ever do will be up to his standards. Sometimes I’m surprised I even made him come as many times as he did.

  Ugh, why am I thinking of that?

  I hand him the rings. “You should take these, then. You’re not going to lose them, are you?”

  He takes the bag, opens the flap on his flannel shirt pocket, and tucks them in. “No.”

  It’s sad that even though I hate him, I trust him. Miles is a man of his word. He promises, he delivers. Aaron should have entrusted the rings to him to begin with; then maybe none of this would’ve ever happened.

  Stepping through the minefield of discarded crap on the shag rug, I head toward the bathroom door, which is right across the narrow hallway from Aaron’s bedroom.

  Suddenly, Miles says, his voice an octave higher than usual, “Wait. Where you going?”

  I point to the bathroom. “I told you.”

  “Oh. Right.” Relaxing, he thrusts his hands into his pockets and strolls around the living room, taking it all in. He kicks one of Aaron’s sneakers with the toe of his boot and shakes his head.

  Aw, Mr. Clean is about to blow a gasket.

  As I walk toward the bathroom, though, I get a distinctly odd feeling. It only grows as I yank my leggings over my thighs, sit down on the toilet and pee.

  Aaron insisting Miles come with me.

  Miles fidgeting when I pulled up at the apartment and trying to get me to stay in the car.

  Miles being nervous when I walked toward the bedroom.

  As I’m finishing up, looking for some soap and a towel so I can wash and dry my hands, it hits me.

  There’s something in Aaron’s bedroom that he doesn’t want me to see.

  I dry my hands on my leggings since I can’t find a towel, telling myself I’m being stupid. Aaron sent Miles along with me because he didn’t want me going alone. He cares about me. That’s all there is to it. And Miles was acting nervous and weird because, well, Miles is weird.

  Still, by the time I’m ready to open the door, I know I will not be able to leave unless I know for sure.

  Taking a deep breath, I crack open the door to the hallway. Not seeing Miles, I step across the hall as quietly as possible and push open the door to his bedroom.

  I don’t know what I’m expecting to find. A naked woman sleeping there? Long blonde hairs all over the bed? The last time I’d slept here—in fact, the last time we slept together—was nearly two months ago. I suggested—and Aaron agreed—that our wedding night would be much more exciting if we hadn’t gotten any in a while.

  I find everything as I expected. White, unpainted walls, scuffed in places, except for a giant framed painting of the Boulder Flatirons at the head of his bed. I’d given it to him a month ago, for his birthday. I’d gotten it from a local artist’s gallery as the start of a promise—that when I moved in, I’d make this place homey and livable. I’d make it ours, not just four walls and a roof.

  Other than that, his king bed, sheets all rumpled in a pile at the very center. His dresser, all but one drawer open and vomiting clothes.

  Nothing else.

  But then my eyes settle on the night table drawer. I’ve never looked in there before, but it must be where he keeps important things, since he kept the rings there.

  I hurry over to it and yank it open.

  The first thing my eyes fall on is a dog-eared picture of us, at the D-Phi semi-formal, taken years ago. It’s my favorite picture; I actually have a copy of it blown up and framed in my apartment. I sit down on the bed, lifting and admiring it. We’re so young there.

  My eyes fall back to the drawer…and the yellow box of condoms.

  I tamp down the initial urge to freak out. Sure, I’ve been on the pill forever, and we stopped using condoms four years ago. They could just be old. And Aaron’s a pack-rat. He never throws anything away.

  Even though he only moved here a year and a half ago…there’s got to be an explanation.

  I lift it out, looking for the expiration date.

  As I do, I notice the half-used tube of lube.

  Half-used…and I know he’s never used it with me. He’s always trying to get in my back door, but I’ve been pretty firmly closed for business on that front. I mean, really. What is the allure of anal, anyway?

  Don’t guys use lube to masturbate? So, that’s probably not a big deal. But that, and the condoms, and the fact that Aaron clearly didn’t want me snooping in here…

  I look up suddenly as Miles’ form fills the doorway.

  He’s gazing at me, and at the condoms and lube in my lap, with an expression I can’t read.

  Then he says, “Are you ready?”

  I replace the contents quickly and stand up. “Um, yeah.”

  As I follow him out the door, I can’t breathe. Because I thought I’d resolved this with Aaron. And now there are all these doubts. Less than twenty hours before I’m supposed to marry him.

  I need air.

  I need to talk to Eva.

  I need Xanax.

  I most definitely do not need the six feet three inches of sarcastic man-flesh that I’m doomed to spend the next five hours with. Aaron’s partner in crime, who I think may have actually been working in cahoots with Aaron to keep this from me.

  I walk through the apartment behind Miles, in a daze, and part of me wants to punch him.

  He goes to open the door, but I attack it, slamming it closed. “Is that why you came here?”

  He looks annoyed. “What?”

  “I mean, the condoms, the lube…we never use any of that, and—”

  “Huh? Get out of the way, Shorty, or you’re gonna—”

  He’s deflecting. I won’t have it. “No. You know what I’m talking about. Did Aaron make you come here because he wanted you to keep things from me?”

  He glares down at me for a long moment. I brace myself for the news. I can already almost feel it, harder than a smack across the face.

  But it doesn’t come.

  He easily nudges me out of the way and opens the door. “Your upcoming nuptials are making you into even more of a headcase than usual.”

  He goes through the door and down the steps, leaving me alone.

  Miles is right.

  I am being a headcase.

  But this is the rest of my life I’m talking about. And…

  I step outside and pull the door shut as he’s reaching the bottom of the stairs.

  “Miles!” I cry desperately.

  He stops on the last step and turns to look up at me as he puts on his mirrored sunglasses.

  “Please. You would tell me, right? If he was…” I can’t bring myself to say the word. “You know. Right?”

  His mouth stays a straight line. I know what that means.

  I’m Aaron’s friend. Not yours. Don’t ask me these questions.

  He shoves his hands into his pockets, tilts his head to the sky, and lets out a breath. “Want me to drive?”

  I swallow and follow him down the steps. No, he wouldn’t tell me. He’s loyal to one person only: Aaron. His best friend. His only friend. “No. I’ll drive.”

  I didn’t notice the clouds coming in, or the air getting colder. When I reach the car, an arctic blast of wind rips across the parking lot, making my teeth chatter and my bare toes curl. I rip open the door and sli
de into the warmth of the car.

  And as if I couldn’t feel any worse, the second I start the engine, the first tiny snowflakes scatter across the windshield.

  3:06 PM, December 6

  I am not that much of a headcase.

  Okay, yes, I am a little paranoid. I am a little possessive. And I’m a little neurotic.

  But I swear, I wasn’t any of those things until nineteen months ago.

  That’s another date that will live in infamy. April fourteenth.

  It was my senior year in college, and I was a month away from graduating with my English degree. I’d been sending out resumes and getting zero response. I had exams and papers out the wazoo. I’d just gotten a letter saying how much my undergrad monthly student loan payments were going to be.

  Life was pretty much in the crapper.

  The only good thing I had going on was Aaron. We’d weathered nearly four years together, and so he was a constant in my life. And it was pretty great. Sure, we had a few little rough patches where we’d break up, but we always got back together within the week. I’d spend nearly every weekend night at the frat house, and I always had a party to go to, so I was crazy popular as Aaron’s girlfriend. I barely remembered what life had been like before him, when I was that scared little wallflower nobody.

  He’d only had two classes that last semester, so he’d been living the high life, really enjoying his last year as an undergrad. While I was always nose to the grindstone with English papers, he was constantly in the basement of his frat house, drinking and playing darts.

  So there was an entire week when I was studying for my Chaucer final that I hardly saw Aaron at all. I missed him like crazy, thought about him every spare moment, but I had to turn down all the invitations to end-of-year parties, because I’d bombed the midterm and really needed to get an A on the final to make Dean’s List.

  The minute I finished, though, I was so excited and relieved that I didn’t even stop at my apartment. I went straight to the frat house.

  I remember walking down the plush red carpet, toward Aaron’s room, ready to throw myself into his arms.

  Miles had graduated three years prior, but maybe if he’d been there, he’d have poked his head out and tried to cover for his best friend. But Aaron was Miles-less. And it turned out to be his downfall.

  I opened the door and found him lying on his back in bed, some naked blonde bouncing on his cock, in midst of a monster-sized orgasm. It’s amazing I didn’t hear her outside the door, considering how loudly she was screaming.

  Two things occurred to me. One: that Aaron never looked that excited when I was on top of him; and two: she had way bigger boobs than I had.

  And just like that, everything good in my life went poof.

  I whirled around and went back the way I came, still numb with disbelief.

  There had to be some mistake. He’d called me just a couple hours ago to wish me good luck on my exam. He told me he still had a hangover from the previous night’s party, so he was going to turn in early. I didn’t realize that he was going to bring company.

  Seconds later, I heard his footsteps behind me. He caught me on the mansion’s massive mahogany staircase, the one that leads down to the foyer with stained-glass windows too pretty for a frat house. He grabbed my arm. “Lia.”

  That’s all he could say. He didn’t need to say more. It was definitely what it looked like. He couldn’t back out of it with some lame excuse.

  Still, I didn’t want to believe. So I said the stupidest thing. I said, “Are you cheating on me?”

  He glanced over the railing, where a bunch of his brothers were all standing, watching the whole sordid exchange with smirks of amusement on their faces.

  He was wearing boxers, and his cock was still hard, making a little tent in front of him. In a minute’s time, he’d gone from my everything to someone I didn’t know. He said, “She’s no one. I just missed you.”

  “Well, I’m here,” I’d murmured. But right then, I wanted to be anywhere else. “I think I’ll just go.”

  I’d walked awkwardly away, and this time, he didn’t stop me. I remember thinking that was it. I was devastated without Aaron. I felt as if I might as well lie down and die.

  I have no idea what Aaron did after that. Maybe he went and finished off with the girl. But about an hour later, the texts started. He sent me about a thousand of them. At first I refused to answer. Gradually, I softened. By graduation, we were talking again, and I was considering giving him another chance, despite West’s assertions that I could do better.

  When he dropped to his knee and proposed as soon as I left the stage with my diploma, well…that was that.

  He didn’t flash a ring and make me crumble. No, he knelt down and took my hands in his, like he was worshiping me. He gave this long speech about how he’d changed. How it took this “dark period” in our relationship to show him exactly what I meant to him. How he was nothing without me.

  Aaron knew how to go big or go home. And he liked the audience, which we had. Over a thousand people watched, waiting for my answer.

  So by the time I said yes, I was sobbing.

  And after we’d gone shopping and found the ring, and he’d slipped the ring on my finger, it felt like night and day.

  Post-College Aaron was attentive. Post-College Aaron didn’t visit the frat house every day, or drink heavily, or meet with his friends and act like a goofball. Post-College Aaron didn’t care about being the life of the party. Oh, he talked about those things, but he really put in the effort to get all that behind him.

  He’d turned himself around. The closer the wedding got, the more reassured I was that I’d made the right decision.

  Which was why, after about nine months, I told him he should go to D-Phi for alumni events or to hang with his friends. I knew he wanted to, and I didn’t want to be that drill sergeant wife and have too tight a leash on him.

  But now, I don’t know.

  I don’t know anything.

  I’m probably just overreacting. At least, I hope I am.

  My hands are wrapped so tightly around the steering wheel that they’re shaking, and it has nothing to do with the snow that’s steadily falling as we approach the mountains.

  Miles doesn’t know that. He says, “You sure you don’t want me to drive?”

  “I’m good.” I turn up the radio and try to get into a Carrie Underwood song.

  Despite what he thinks, my Mini Cooper is not all that awful in snow. It has always handled pretty well. And though I really can’t stand the white fluffy stuff, I don’t have much of a problem driving in it. The only problem I have is with the weather app on my phone. The one that said this shit wasn’t going to arrive until tonight.

  The snowflakes are big and wet, so I turn on the headlights and the windshield wipers. Luckily, there are very few cars on the road at this time on a Friday afternoon, so if we keep at this clip, we should still be able to make it, no problem.

  All’s okay. This wedding will be great. So what if the snow is a little early? So what if Aaron’s acting suspiciously? So FUCKING WHAT?

  “Hey.” Miles snaps his fingers at me. “Chill out.”

  I stare straight ahead. “What are you talking about? I am chilled out,” I retort.

  “Right. Sure you don’t want me to drive?”

  That’s when I realize we’re climbing the hill, and I’m only doing thirty. No wonder there’s a pickup with its grill up my ass.

  I sigh. There’s a turnout before we get to the real high hairpin turns. “All right.”

  Flipping on my blinker, I pull over to the side of the road. When I stop, Miles unlatches his seat belt. I watch the snow falling, and falling, and FUCKING FALLING, and somehow I get the feeling maybe that’s God, trying to tell me something.

  I freak out.

  I drop my head to the steering wheel.

  Miles says and does absolutely nothing. Jason Aldean croons and the wind whistles outside, shaking the car a little.
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  “You know he cheated on me,” I say, more to the steering wheel than to him. “Don’t you?”

  I turn to look at him. He nods, his mouth a straight line. “Yeah. He told me.”

  He told him. Really? It makes me wonder what else he told him.

  What else Miles could tell me. Things that I’d really, really like to know before entering into a lifelong commitment with his best friend.

  I take a deep breath. “And I know that you and I hate each other. But I hope that because I’m Aaron’s girlfriend and we’re a package deal, and you care about Aaron, you’d also, by default, care about me?”

  His voice is casual. “Uh. Sure.”

  I’m not sure I believe that, but I forge ahead anyway, because I’m feeling desperate.

  “So even though you hate me, if you saw me getting myself into a bad situation, you’d put the brakes on it, right?”

  Understanding begins to trickle in. His voice is hard, but he flicks his eyes away for a second. Like he doesn’t want me to see something there. As if the guy’s even readable. “You know what you’re getting into.”

  “But what if I don’t? What if I’m being blind?” I cry, glancing at the clock in the dashboard. We’ve got to go. Time is ticking and it’s starting to snow harder. “Look. I love Aaron. I love him more than I’ve ever loved anyone. But if he can’t keep it in his pants and I’m in for sixty more years of this shit, I want to know going in.”

  He studies me closely, and at first I think he’s going to call me a headcase again. “Would it matter?”

  I blink. How could he think something like that wouldn’t matter? “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  I let out a laugh. “Of course. You think it wouldn’t matter to me?”

  He nods slowly. “What I mean is, you have five hundred of your closest friends and family on the other side of this mountain range, waiting for the wedding of the century. You’ve been planning it for the better part of two years and have socked all of your daddy’s money into it. Say you find out that Aaron’s been cheating on you since Day One. Do you really mean to tell me you’d just call it off? Just like that?”