Page 65 of The Best Man Wins

Susie

Braxton doesn’t explain his rush to me, not even once the two of us have left the house and piled into Ray’s car. I mean, I’m glad he’s both feet into the wedding now, but does he have to be so pushy about it?

Braxton drives down the road, but he looks distracted, his eyes constantly flickering over to the side of the road.

“Penny for your thoughts?” I ask. I pull my hair back into a ponytail; it’s still damp from my quick shower.

“I need to find a place to pull over.”

I let out a breath of a laugh. “Feel frisky? I’m flattered, but we really have too much to do and zero time to waste…”

There’s a small dusty clearing in the woods by the side of the road, and Braxton pulls into it. I pull my lips into a tight line. “What are you doing?”

“I lost the wedding ring.” That’s all he says before he gets out of the car and closes the door behind him.

“What?” I jump out of the passenger side and step around the car. Braxton is knee-deep in the bushes on the side of the road.

“He gave me Cora’s wedding band to take care of,” Braxton explains as he shoves around the tall weeds. “I was mad at him, so I threw it in the bushes.”

I groan. “You have to be kidding me.” I carefully step over the busted cans and roadside debris to waddle through the tall grass. “Do you know where you threw it?”

“Somewhere around here.”

“Great. That’s helpful.”

“Just keep looking.”

I do. We walk in slow circles, cornering off bushes and sifting through the greenery. In the silent lull, I feel a thought nagging at the back of my head.

“Since…we have a second. There’s something I should probably tell you.”

Braxton glances up to stare at me. “Don’t tell me you’re pregnant too.”

“No! At least, I don’t think so.” Braxton gives me a sharp look. I sigh and flip over something shiny in the dirt, only to find a bottle cap. “Just…in full transparency…Ace followed me down here and—”

“Ace? Your ex-fiancé, Ace?”

“Yeah. Apparently, he called Thom and…it’s a long story.” Pat, pat, pat. “We had coffee.”

“Coffee.” He says it like an accusation.

“Yes. And we talked.”

“About what?”

“What he was doing now. Why he left.”

“There’s no excuse for what he did to you. None.”

“I know that.”

“Do you?”

“What does that mean?”

Braxton’s eyes flicker up to meet mine before they find the ground again. “You’re right. It’s not my business.”

We lapse into a small tense silence. I nudge a tin can with the toe of my sandals.

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