Page 4 of Never Kiss Your Brother's Best Friend

"Ah, hello everyone," I say, sounding like an amateur magician who's about to pull a rabbit out of his hat. "Thank you all for being here today. Peter, we've been friends for a very long time, and if I am being honest, you're the only reason I'm up here. Linda, though I've not known you long, I know you make Peter happy, and when he's happy, I'm happy."

I keep reading from the script, and I don't miss Dean's snicker when I stammer and pause. This is the longest minute and a half of my life. When I'm done, I don't wait around to hear the applause. I dart back to my seat, feeling my chest tighten and my palms sweat. Did I mention that crowds are not my thing?

Thankfully, the music starts up and everyone is immediately distracted. The only thing worse than the nerves balled up in my stomach is watching Emma try to drag Dean onto the dance floor. It’s a wedding classic, the Macarena, one of her favorites.

I’m sure he doesn’t even know that and probably wouldn’t oblige her even if he did. He's too sophisticated for that, obviously.

And then, before I can second guess the impulse, I decide I can't take seeing her like this. She deserves to have some fun. Even if she is with someone else, she should get to enjoy the day.

I start toward her. I think about her big smile, that wide, full grin that lights up her whole face. I know it’s in there. By the time I reach the unhappy couple, my butterflies have abated and all I care about is setting that smile loose.

Emma's eyes light up when she sees me. "Hey, Sterling! Having fun?" she asks, her voice bright with genuine warmth.

I hold my hand out in a silent offering, and that's when disaster strikes. My elbow collides with a waiter, who is balancing a precarious tower of glasses filled with red wine on a silver tray. With a clumsy stumble, he careens directly into Dean, sending both him and the tray crashing to the ground in a spectacular cascade of glass and liquid.

For a moment, the room falls silent as everyone turns to gawk at the commotion. But then, guests gasp and giggle, while the unfortunate waiter scrambles to his feet, frantically apologizing to Dean.

Emma, however, doesn't miss a beat. She steps forward, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "Well, Sterling, you've just given 'wine-colored suit' a whole new meaning," she quips, her tone playful.

The room erupts in laughter, and even the waiter, still mortified, manages a sheepish smile. I try to keep a straight face, but the corners of my mouth twitch with the effort.

Emma gives me an amused look, and I can't help but appreciate her ability to turn an awkward moment into a comedic one.

Dean, on the other hand, looks positively livid. He shoots me a venomous glare. If looks could kill, I'd be on the floor next to the shattered glasses. "You did that on purpose, didn't you? Don't think I haven't noticed you ogling Emma all day."

I wince. He noticed that, did he? Before I can respond, Emma steps forward, her expression fierce with indignation.

"Hey, ease up," she retorts. "It was just an accident."

"Right, like him dragging you to the ground during the ceremony so you'd land on top of him was an accident," he scoffs.

This is just going from bad to worse, but instead of backing down, Emma snaps right back. "I fell into him, you moron."

As much as I appreciate the solidarity, Emma's not going to win this battle. I've only known Dean for a few hours, but it's already obvious that he isn't good at backing down or letting things go.

Dean's eyes narrow, and his jaw clenches. "I've had enough of this," he declares, his tone cold and final. "I'm done."

Emma's eyes widen in shock, and for a moment, she seems unable to comprehend his words. But then, as the full weight of his ultimatum sinks in, her expression hardens into a look of resolve.

"Fine by me," she retorts, her voice dripping with disdain. "And by the way, you really cannot pull off a yellow tie. You look like a walking highlighter.”

Dean looks down at his tie and huffs. Because of the wine it’s not so much a highlighter now but more of an abstract painting.

"I’m out of here," he mutters, before storming off.

Emma stares after him for a moment, her eyes blazing, but then she simply shrugs and shakes her head.

I open my mouth, intending to apologize for everything. But before I can say anything, she spins around and marches in the opposite direction. Heads turn, and in true Emma fashion, she cracks a joke before she leaves the room.

"Save me a dance, boys! This girl is back on the market," she shouts over her shoulder. A few whistles and claps sound behind her.

And then she's gone.

I can hear people murmuring around us, probably gossiping about the confrontation. Luckily, Peter and Linda are off taking pictures in their own little love-bubble and didn't see any of it. The last thing I want is to take the spotlight off them.

A waiter nudges past me, avoiding looking at me while he cleans up the broken glass, and I take a deep breath. Okay, at least the damage is minimal and the spectacle is over quickly.

Even though I didn't technically do anything wrong, I still feel awful that I couldn't fix this. First, the mini wrestling stint in the aisle, and now a wine waterfall. What kind of best man am I, anyway?

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