The Worst Best Man

by Mia Sosa

  I shake my head. “But in your text, you admitted I was right. That I’d made sense when I said you weren’t ready to get married. I fucking saw it with my own eyes. Lina did, too.”

  “You saw it,” Andrew says, “but do you remember it?”

  My vision clouds, and a new rush of adrenaline courses through me. He’s got to be fucking kidding me. What diabolical bullshit is he up to? “Why the hell would you lie about something like that?”

  Andrew sighs. “Honestly? I didn’t want to face Mom and Dad alone. It was much easier to deal with their disappointment if my younger and mega-persuasive brother had a hand in the decision, too.” He faces Lina, who’s shaking her head and pacing behind me. “Anyway, they’ll be happy to know you’re returning to the family, Lina. I’m sure my mother won’t care how your reappearance will affect the family dynamic. I’m also sure it’s a relief to know there was no reason to hate him, especially now that you both have every reason to despise me. Thanks to yours truly, you can enjoy a sparkling fresh start, and we’ll all be one big happy family.”

  Lina steps forward and stands by my side. We stare at him, both of us wearing stunned expressions.

  Andrew sighs. “That last part was sarcasm, by the way.” He waves goodbye to us, and as a final parting gift, treats us to the shit-eating grin he wears so well. “Take care.”

  When he’s gone, I drop my head into my hands and take a deep breath. That text. That stupid-ass text that was passed around from family member to family member as evidence of my role in the whole fiasco was a lie. What bullshit. Still, as much as it makes me want to clip Andrew in the chin, that text is the least of my worries.

  All relationships require work. But a relationship that starts out the way ours has isn’t facing great odds. And would lead to what? Me ending up exactly where I don’t want to be? Stuck in Andrew’s shadow again? Living the life he walked away from? Loving the person who loved him first? Wondering if I’m good enough to replace the person she wanted to be with? I don’t deserve that. Neither does she. I thought I could get past Lina’s connection to my brother, but the truth is, I can’t. I’ll always worry that I’m second best. Or that she’s settling. This is what Dean’s been warning me about all along, isn’t it?

  It hits me then: I’m in a relationship that has no real possibility of flourishing. And that isn’t fair to either of us. Honesty is the only policy, right?

  Lina shakes her head. “Did that just happen? I feel like I’m in the twilight zone.”

  I blow out a long breath. “It happened.”

  And unfortunately, it’s only going to get worse from here.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Lina

  And to think I almost married the man. I certainly dodged a dickhead with that one.

  Max is still holding his head in his hands. He must be heartbroken knowing Andrew pinned him as part of the reason he decided not to marry me. Shit, I regret all the things I said and did when I thought Max had been a partial culprit. But we got where we needed to be anyway, didn’t we?

  I squeeze his shoulder. “Hey. It’s okay. The worst is over.”

  Max lifts his head and gives me a sad smile. “Yeah, I wasn’t expecting to deal with that today. Had other plans, for sure.”

  I trail my hand down his chest and hang my finger on a belt loop in the waistband of his slacks. “Do you want to just head out? We can talk over lunch.”

  His gaze travels to a spot behind my shoulder. I know that move well, so I’m immediately on high alert.

  “I think that whole confrontation wiped me out,” he says, massaging the back of his neck. He glances at me. “How about a rain check on lunch?”

  That’s understandable. It’s not every day that your brother finds out you’re dating his former fiancée. “Sure. But let me give you the short story on Rebecca. We had a great talk. Awkward but helpful. She understands why I felt compelled to lie. Doesn’t appreciate it, but she understands. She called it a soap opera.”

  His shoulders tense. “She’s not wrong. Honestly, this whole mess forces me to ask the million-dollar question: What the hell are we doing, Lina?”

  I snap my brows together and step back, removing my finger from his belt loop. “What do you mean?”

  He turns away and paces the dressing area. “I mean why are we”—he waves his hands around—“together. What do we think is going to happen here?” Still pacing, he rubs his temples as though answering his own question is hurting his head. “Here’s what I think. We got caught up in a dream world. One where it didn’t matter that you almost married my brother. One where I wouldn’t care that he’s always going to be somewhere in the background. You know my issues. The thought that Andrew will always be looking at us with that smug grin of his is”—he raises his hands and bends his fingers as if they’re claws—“fucking infuriating. Hell, you even told me from the outset we wouldn’t work in the long-term.” He sighs. “Here’s the thing: We both deserve a relationship that doesn’t exist in my brother’s shadow. And let’s be honest, you know exactly what you want, and it’s a lot closer to Andrew than I’ll ever be.”

  Someone’s got me all figured out, and he’s so wrong. But my gut tells me this is about his issues, not mine. “What do you want, then?”

  He scrubs a hand down his face and blows out a long breath. “I want to come first. I want someone who thinks I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to them. You were going to marry him, Lina. He chose to walk away, not you. Even after he was a no-show at your wedding, you tried to change his mind. That means something. I can’t be your second choice, Lina. There’s just too much history between Andrew and me to set that aside.”

  “Yes, I tried to change his mind. I thought he was what I wanted. What I needed. But I was wrong and—”

  He throws up a hand. “And I want to know that I didn’t pursue the woman I love because of some silly competition with my brother. I can’t be one hundred percent certain of that, Lina. Ever. Could you? Is that fair to either of us?”

  My stomach clenches. That part’s total bullshit. An excuse to pull away from me. To pretend he’s doing this partly for my benefit. If he’d pursued me to “win” me, he wouldn’t care how I felt about him; he’d want to win at all costs. No, he’s grasping at straws. After all the talk about just being with him, letting go, letting him in, a few conniving words from his jerk of a brother send him into a tailspin. Unbelievable. The pang in my chest prompts me to speak. “You think we’re doomed from the outset.”

  We stare at each other. He breaks eye contact first.

  “Yeah,” he says. “What’s the point of trying to fix something that may be unfixable? Wouldn’t it be better to cut our losses now? Before anyone gets hurt?”

  I want to scream that he’s hurting me right the fuck now, but years of self-preservation clamp an invisible hand over my mouth. Why would he pursue me? Tell me all that stuff at the retreat? About our potential. About how he can’t stop thinking about me. Why would he tell me he cares about me a lot more than “at all”? Why? Why? Why?

  The space where my heart should be feels hollow, as though someone’s torn the organ from my chest as easily as a person rips a page out of a notebook. If this is how I feel now—seconds away from wailing from the pain he’s causing me—imagine what it would feel like a year from now. Or two. Or five. These big feelings aren’t healthy. They draw emotions out of you best left under lock and key. Well, he’s not getting them from me. Not today or any day.

  Still, a small voice in my head tells me to fight for him. He’s scared and I understand why. He thinks he’s not enough. He can’t wrap his head around the idea that I’d choose him over Andrew. He believes I’m settling for second best. But telling him none of that’s true isn’t going to change his mind, and I don’t know that there’s any way to convince him he’s wrong.

  He takes my hand and shakes it, pulling me out of my conflicting thoughts. “Hey.”

  “Hey,” I say.

  �
�This isn’t easy for me,” he says, “but you and I both know this relationship had an expiration date. Andrew showing up today just shortened our timeline. And maybe that’s for the best.”

  Hearing him explain away our relationship so succinctly drains me of any energy to battle him on this front. I can’t force him to be with me, and I shouldn’t have to. The best approach is to say my piece and turn to the tasks ahead. Approachable-yet-badass bitch should work fine. “Look, I think you’re selling us short, but I’m not going to beg you to be with me. If whatever we are ends here, then so be it. The great thing is, I’m confident we can handle this like adults. We have only two weeks before the pitch and all of that work can be done by email or phone.” I shake my hand free of his. “So let’s finish this pitch and get me a fucking job, okay?”

  He smiles faintly. “Okay.”

  “You can let yourself out, right?”

  He straightens. “Of course. We’ll talk soon.”

  Just go already. Go, go, go.

  When he walks out of the dressing area, I take a shaky breath and let the tears flow.

  Good news: I didn’t cry in front of him even though I desperately wanted to.

  Bad news: Judging by how much it hurts to see him leave, I think I’m already in love.

  * * *

  “Lina, what are you still doing back here? We left like an hour ago.”

  Jaslene stares at me from the dressing room entryway, a large paper cup in her hand.

  What am I doing? Moping. Feeling sorry for myself. Retracing my steps to figure out what I should have done differently. “I just got tired and decided to sit down, that’s all.”

  She walks over and puts a hand to my forehead. “Are you feeling sick? Need me to get you something?”

  “I’m not sick, Jaslene. Not physically, anyway.”

  Because Jaslene takes on everyone else’s problems, I’m not surprised when she sits in a chair on the other side of the table between us. “But you’re heartsick. Is that it?”

  The tears are flowing freely now. “Yeah. Is that what it’s called when you wish you could remove your heart from your body and never use it again?”

  Jaslene sets her cup on the table, making sure to place a napkin under the cup before she does, then she hands me a tissue. “What happened?”

  “Andrew.”

  She twists in her chair, her eyes wide as saucers. “What? He stopped by?” Her eyes narrow. “Oh . . . oh . . . he saw Max, didn’t he?”

  “Yep.”

  “¡Chacho! What awful timing! Were you—”

  Natalia bursts into the dressing area, a cup twice the size of Jaslene’s in her hand. “I’m back, mulheres! Did you miss me?”

  “Always,” Jaslene says, her flat tone underscoring her sarcasm.

  Natalia meows and hisses at her, adding a two-fingered claw scratch at the end. “Keep that up and I’ll revoke your invitation to my bachelorette party.” She plops down onto the floor in front of us, dramatically arranging herself in a cross-legged position. “Now, tell me what happened. Oh, shit, Lina, you’re crying.”

  I nod, then tell them the abridged version of this afternoon’s garbage fire, hiccupping on every fourth word. It takes forever.

  Jaslene peppers me with enough questions to get the unabridged story out of me. Natalia, meanwhile, remains silent, occasionally slurping on her fruit smoothie. It’s painful to go over it again, but I suppose this is part of the process. Catharsis.

  “Nothing to say?” I ask Natalia.

  She shakes her head. “Still absorbing. Also, feeling really guilty about the way I treated Max.”

  Jaslene sucks her teeth. “Max will be fine.” She leans over and squeezes my hand. “I’m sorry you’re hurting. If I could take just a little of your pain, you know I would. Want to go to capoeira class tonight? That might help get your mind off him.”

  I groan and slide down the chair. “I doubt that’s possible, but I’ll try anything.”

  Natalia takes another sip of her smoothie, then pops her lips. “Okay. So the way I see it is this. Max is scared. You’re scared. Andrew’s lost. And all of you need to get your shit together.” She winks at me. “But know that I’m rooting for you.”

  I cackle at her concise summary. “Thanks, Natalia. I can always count on you to tell it like it is.”

  “Am I wrong?” she says, her hands raised in a question.

  Of the three of us—Max, Andrew, and me—I’m probably the only one who recognizes that she’s not.

  Max

  My mother tosses a pen at me. “Are you with us today?”

  I fumble to catch it and sit up. “What? Yeah, I’m here. No need to resort to physical assault.”

  She leans back in her office chair and studies me for a good ten seconds before she says, “Well, if you were paying attention, you’d know that I posed a question.”

  “Which was?”

  She looks over at Andrew. “Do you know the question?”

  But Andrew’s staring at the notepad in his lap, so she lobs a pen at him, too. “What the hell is going on with you two?”

  It’s been less than twenty-four hours since my relationship with Lina imploded, so I know what’s wrong with me. As for Andrew, who the hell cares.

  Andrew’s still not with us, though.

  My mother bangs her fist against her desk to get his attention. “Andrew.”

  He jerks and scribbles on his notepad. “Got it.”

  “Got what?” my mother asks.

  “Whatever you need me to do,” he says uncertainly.

  My mother rests her elbows on the desk and massages her temples. “Okay, let’s start over. What’s going on with the Pembley account?”

  Andrew’s the lead on that one. As usual, I’m his backup. He sifts through his notepad looking for the color-coded tabbed pages for that account. “Pembley. We’re set to meet with them next week. That still work for you, Max?”

  “Yes,” I say.

  “And the Cartwright Group?” my mother asks.

  You mean the client I wanted to woo so I could show you that I’m worthy of managing my own accounts? Oh, I don’t know. The client knows we lied to her. The planner I’m supposed to be helping would probably throw me in a wood chipper if given half the chance. And if I’m forced to sit with my brother for anything more than fifteen minutes, I’ll lunge at him. “Everything’s on track. I should be getting mock-ups from Karen later today. I’ll share them with Lina soon after that.”

  My mother nods. “Good.”

  She peers at Andrew. “And you? How’s it coming along?”

  Andrew tugs on his tie. “Well, Henry’s not on board with the current direction, so we’re scrapping the plans and trying something new.”

  Interesting. Is that why he was pacing and throwing papers in the conference room yesterday? Can’t wait to see what they come up with. Although now that I think about it, Rebecca hasn’t suggested that we’d be watching each other’s presentations. I should ask that Lina and I go first, just in case Andrew decides to steal our ideas. Wouldn’t put it past him.

  “That’s not encouraging, Andrew,” my mother says. “I need you to get a plan in place soon.”

  “Will do,” he says. “I promise.”

  My mother clasps her hands on the desk, leans on her elbows, and looks at me. “I’ve been meaning to ask you. How’s Lina? Is she well?”

  I can’t talk about her in a dispassionate way. It would kill me. And I’ve already taken enough hits where Lina’s concerned. Fuck this. If I’m going down, he’s going down, too. I jerk a thumb in Andrew’s direction. “Ask him. He saw her as recently as yesterday.”

  My mother’s head snaps back. “You did? Why?”

  I twist my upper body in Andrew’s direction and settle in for an explanation. “Yes, Andrew. Tell us why you visited Lina at her work even though I’m the one assigned to help her.”

  Andrew clears his throat. “It’s like I said. I wanted to make sure you were doing your job.
”

  “You were planning to fish for information about our pitch, weren’t you?” I ask. “You didn’t want me to know, so you went to her. Because you couldn’t think up a single idea without my input.”

  Andrew sighs, feigning boredom. “Think what you want, but I had legitimate business reasons to be there. Unlike you.”

  My mother frowns at us. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  This is ridiculous. Andrew and I are squabbling like children. And for what? So we can one-up each other in my mother’s eyes? I have zero interest in doing that. “What he means is, Lina and I became something other than friends or colleagues. Neither of us planned it, of course, and whatever it was is now over, so there’s really no point in either discussing it”—I point at Andrew—“or, in your case, poking me about it. When we’re in this office, I want to work. That’s all.” I slide to the edge of the chair, readying myself to leave. “But just so there are no more secrets between us, why don’t you come clean, Andrew?”

  My mother removes her eyeglasses. “Come clean about what?”

  Andrew and I stare at each other for several seconds, then he drops his chin and loosens his tie.

  “Max never discouraged me from marrying Lina,” he says. “I made that up.”

  My mother gasps. “You what?”

  I don’t need to listen to this crap. “Are we done here? If so, I’ll leave you two to talk.”

  My mother’s gaze bounces between Andrew and me. “We’re done.”

  I stand and walk to the door. My priority is helping Lina get the job of her dreams. Everything else is bullshit.

  Before I slip out, my mother calls me back.

  “Max, hang on.”

  I turn to face her. “Yeah?”

  She meets my gaze, her mouth set in a determined line, then she says, “Whatever it is, we’ll get through it. I promise.”