Page 75 of The Barkeep and the Bro

Ellie and her parents waited outside the doors. She looked stunning in her wedding dress, which flowed out like she walked on clouds. Hannah and Mitch held it together as best they could.

I peeked my head in later in the ceremony. My heart hurt watching Mitch sitting alone while his ex-wife had her husband and his best friends had their boyfriends.

“Did Mitch start crying?” Natasha asked me back in the kitchen. Nothing would make her happier.

He did, barely. His eyes watered up as the minister talked about Ellie and Tim. He didn’t let any tears fall, but the emotions clogged his face. It was sweet and tender, and those funky feelings I felt for him only amplified.

“Nope. He kept it together,” I answered. “Mitch doesn’t cry.”

“Only when one of us breaks a glass.” She took a bite of her Chipotle burrito. She had gotten us dinner to eat before the main event. I appreciated that she refused to let us eat the food we were serving. We could have leftovers, but we wouldn’t be the first people to dig into this food.

I wandered back to the ceremony, unable to help myself. Ellie and Tim said their vows to each other. Tears streamed down Tim’s cheeks as he read from a piece of paper in his shaky hands.

“Ellie, you are the love of my life. I didn’t know I could feel this way about anyone. I see our love in the small moments. The way you pretend to laugh at my jokes. The care you put into our plans. Love isn’t a series of big moments. It’s the small things, the day-to-day. I won’t forget them. I won’t take them for granted. My love for you has made me a stronger person.”

“Psst,” Natasha whispered behind me. “They’re about to say I Do, and then we’re up. Let’s get ready.”

Fortunately, she couldn’t see my face. She couldn’t see the wallop of emotion that put a lump in my throat. She couldn’t read me and ask what was going on. Because I didn’t want to say it out loud.

My relationships with women had been fun and light. We never scratched below the surface of things. Even with Serena, my longest relationship, things never got deep. We talked about work and the industry and our goals for the future, but there was an undercurrent of competition between us. We were colleagues first, a couple second.

But I wanted what Tim and Ellie had. I wanted those small moments of love. I didn’t want only flings. I watched this whole night and wondered if I was built for love.

Real love.

And there was only one person I wanted it with. Unfortunately, he only saw me as the fun guy. The fratboy.

In the rows of guests, my eyes kept finding Mitch sitting there by himself. What was he thinking? The urge came over me to sit with him and hold his hand—the total opposite of the urges I felt for him all through today.

“Charlie,” Natasha whispered to me. “It’s go time.”

* * *

It wasmy turn to be boss, and it felt strange. A good strange, like having Mitch’s dick in my mouth earlier. I lined up the three waiters we had on staff for the night; Natasha and I gave them instructions on how to proceed. Which trays to bring out, how to circulate through the crowd. We pointed out all the important people in the wedding party so the waiters would know to keep giving them food and drinks.

I took my position behind the bar. The bar was the only piece of furniture or equipment that wasn’t moving tonight. The cocktail hour was held in the lobby, which had been strung with paper lanterns, old photographs of foreign lands, and other cute touches Ellie and her friends had sourced from the never-ending well that was Pinterest. Guests crowded around high tables dotting the floor. The bar station held court outside the main ballroom doors, which were busy being flipped from ceremony to reception by the other two staff members.

“Well, well, well. Look who the fuck it is.” Skeeter sidled up to the bar, his tie already loose. He leaned over to check out the goods. “Whatcha got back there?”

“Easy there, buddy.” I gently pushed him back. We hadn’t spoken since the birthday bash, aka the time I splunked in his bathroom. “What can I get you?”

Asa joined us, with their dates holding back on their phones. I recognized the girls from Asa’s weekend birthday extravaganza. Lilly the Loophole was Skeeter’s date.

“What do you have?” Skeeter asked.

I rattled off the types of beer and wine we were serving.

“Got anything a little bit harder?”

“There is a small assortment of liquor and mixers. Soda and juice.”

“Oh, we won’t need the mixers. This is a wedding. It calls for shots.” Skeeter seemed pleased with himself. Asa nodded in agreement.

We were ten minutes into the cocktail hour. Perhaps it was too soon to start doing shots? Maybe I would’ve been all-in on the plan were I on the other side of the bar. But seeing how fast people got drunk, it was best to delay.

“Are you sure about that? We have an excellent selection of craft beer. I know you like yourself some craft beer, Skeet. Remember those brewery tours you dragged me on during that weekend in Boston?”

“This is true.”

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