Page 2 of Selfish Desires

“Oh God, I can't wait to hear where this is going. I've seen the movie, but go on.” I rolled my eyes.

“Well, let me indulge you.” Vincent pressed our foreheads together. “Remember the movie's ending after Steve Martin throws his daughter a gigantic wedding, destroying his house, mind you. He didn't even get to say goodbye to that spoiled brat before she took off for her honeymoon.”

I craned my head. “So, is Zachary your daughter in this analogy?” I pressed my hand against Vincent's broad chest, basking in his gentle heartbeat.

Vincent smiled, pecking my lips. “I just want a chance to congratulate my best friend. I don't have much family. Zachary and I have been through a lot.”

“Aw, babe.” I trailed my red fingernails down his perfect five o'clock shadow. “You'll get to say goodbye to Zachary. Just as I'm going to say goodbye to Blair before she leaves. I'm not worried.”

“People change once they get married.” Vincent shrugged. “They get caught up in married life and all that shit.”

I gave a faint smile. After two years and multiple hints of getting engaged to Vincent, still nothing. I knew he was the one for me, and he always told me I was his soulmate, but call me old fashioned. I wanted that promise. I wanted to be Mrs. Vincent Press one day, but I wasn't sure if Vincent needed that label. Lately, it was hard to pinpoint what he wanted. He seemed so…distracted.

“But that won't be us,” said Vincent, his deep tone cutting through my daze. “I know we'll stay the same when it's our time.”

I met his smile with mine. His hand brushed against my palm, absorbing his warmth and comfort amid a fake smile. It was almost mechanical because I was sick of the innuendos and ready for the real thing.

“My favorite couple!” Blair shouted into our ears.

Our heads shot in Blair's direction, wearing her off-white gown dazzled with pearls and black beads. And then there was Zachary. A male vision in a classic black tuxedo, made for every human on earth to ogle over.

“Blair!” I squealed, detaching myself from Vincent and rushing toward her. Her hair was pulled back into a sleek updo, adorned with delicate silver hairpins that glittered under the dim lights. She was the embodiment of grace and beauty. “Congratulations,” I said, pulling Blair into a tight hug. Her petite figure disappeared into my arms as we swayed from side to side. The laughter and the chatter from the guests around us became a mere background noise; it was just us—Blair, Vincent, Zachary, and me—in our happy bubble.

“You promise you're not mad, right?” Blair broke our embrace, staring into my eyes.

“Mad? What are you talking about?” I frowned.

“About not being Maid of Honor. You know you're my best friend.” The concern swimming in Blair's eyes nearly broke my heart.

“Stop. You're being ridiculous.” I hugged Blair again to drive home the point.

“Yeah, none of that crap matters,” said Zachary, stuffing his hands in his pockets, rocking on his heels.

“Speak for yourself.” Vincent held up a hand. “I've been waiting my whole life to be someone's best man, and you blew up my spot.”

Zachary grinned at Vincent, his smile toothy and playful. “You know I couldn't trust you with a speech, Vince,” he said, smacking him on the shoulder.

Vincent lurched before catching himself and fixing his tie. “You have a point.”

The party continued as we chatted, danced, and toasted Zachary and Blair's new life together. Each time I looked at them, something twinged inside me at the thought of the life Vincent and I could have.

When the night ended, as we watched Zachary and Blair drive away toward their honeymoon destination, Vincent leaned over to me, whispering, “Do you remember what I said earlier? About how people change once they get married?”

I turned to him, meeting his gaze, which locked onto mine with an intensity that made my heart pound. “Yes,” I answered softly.

“I hope you'll change for me.”

My stomach did a small, uneasy flip. What the hell did that mean?

“I hope you'll take my last name.” Vincent smiled, but I wasn't impressed.

“You know, you talk a lot about getting married without popping the question.” I smirked.

“Oh, Wendy. You know it's going to happen. And when it does, you'll be caught so off guard that I, your prince charming, will catch you.”

“Yeah. We'll see about that.” I gave my tenth eye roll of the night.

“You bet we fucking will.” Vincent popped his eyebrows, licking his lips. And then his phone chimed in his pocket. He took it out, read the screen for half a second, and lost almost all the color in his face. This wasn't the first time this had happened. Over the last year, Vincent's phone plagued his moods, and while he blamed sudden work messages as the cause, I never believed him. How stressful and soul-consuming could corporate America be? To suck a lively soul, like Vincent's, out of his body? Something didn't add up, but he wouldn't serve me the full story.

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