Page 138 of Fake As Puck
“I’ll be the one in green, trying not to cry at other people’s happiness.”
The groomsmen breakfast has too much food, too much coffee, and way too much shit-talking for nine in the morning.
“West!” my cousin Jake shouts when I walk into the private dining room. “There he is. Mr. Mysterious.”
I scoff. “What’s mysterious about me?”
“Everything. You show up with a gorgeous girlfriend out of nowhere, and now you’re acting all cagey about it.”
I laugh. “I’m not acting cagey.”
“You’re absolutely acting cagey.”
“Jake, can we focus on the fact that you’re getting married today instead of my dating life?” I say.
“My dating life is settled. Yours is the mystery.”
I’m confused by his tone like he knows something I don’t. I say again, “There’s no mystery.”
“There’s definitely a mystery.”
The other groomsmen are two of Jake’s college friends and his brother. They are watching this exchange like it’s entertainment.
“Is she the one?” asks Mike, Jake’s brother.
“The one what?” I ask, annoyance crawling up my spine. What is with all these questions? I technically hired her months ago toavoid questions of being single, and now I’m being drilled about shit likeis she the one.
“The one you’re going to marry,” he says.
I answer, “I’m not marrying anyone.”
“Yet,” says Jake with a grin.
I snap, “Not yet. Not ever. We’re taking things slow.”
“How slow?” Mike teases.
I didn’t want to start off this day in a bad mood, but now it’s happening because I think about the very near future where I won’t even be seeing much of Liv anymore. We haven’t made any promises about the future.
“Very slow,” I say.
Mike asks, “Glacial slow or turtle slow?”
“Jesus Christ, dude,” I retort, and they all laugh like they have some inside joke. “What?”
“Nothing,” Jake laughs. “We just love to give you shit.”
They all laugh again, and someone orders whiskey shots even though it’s not even ten AM.
“To Jake,” I say, raising my glass. “For finding someone crazy enough to marry him.”
“To love being crazy enough to make sense,” Jake counters.
“To love being crazy enough to make sense,” we echo, and I think about Liv sleeping in my bed and wonder if crazy is exactly what we need.
Getting ready is a blur of matching tuxedos and cologne and someone’s very strong opinions about pocket squares.
“You clean up nice,” Mike says, adjusting his bow tie in the mirror.
