The only contact Austen and I have had is my text to him a few days ago letting him know I’d still be his best man if he wanted me to be. His response was: probably a good idea so people don’t ask questions.
NoI’m sorry, orI wouldn’t have anyone else, or even athank you.
Never thought my best friend could act this way toward me, but I guess you really don’t know anyone.
Not having much time, I quickly get ready then head out to the venue and wait until the very last minute to get out of my car. I considered taking a ride share, but the quicker I can get out of here, the better.
I head into the church and Paul spots me.
“Hey, man. Hit traffic or something?”
“Yeah, something,” I answer.
“Well, come on. Austen has been waiting for you.”
Doubt it, but okay.
He leads me down a few halls into a room where all the guys are sitting and laughing and joking around like the idiots they are. Everyone has a glass in their hand, some amount of amber liquid inside. There’s a glass bottle on the table between them, and I swipe it up and gulp it, knowing I’m going to need it.
I feel eyes on me, but ignore all of them. Especially the bright blue ones glaring at me from my left.
“You’re not supposed to be the nervous one,” Trey says with a laugh.
“Well, what can I say?” I shrug, giving the halfass answer.
The door opens and we all glance over to see Austen’s and Savannah’s father walking in, both looking like someone just died. I’m sure no one did, that’s just what they look like.
“It’s time to line up,” Jack, Savannah’s father, says.
Everyone gets up and finishes their drinks, so I take another swig from the bottle before heading over with them.
Austen steps right beside me, fixing his suit jacket. I ignore him and how good he smells, and how fucking handsome he looks. He got a haircut and his short beard is all neat and shiny. The dark grey suit fits him like a glove, but of course it does. That’s how clothes look when you have enough money to get them all tailored to you. Not that I’m salty about him being rich or anything, but everything about him is pissing me off right now.
I shouldn’t be angry with him, I should understand. And some part of me does. I just thought our friendship was more important than this. Whatever this is. What is causing him to act like this? Which of his fears is on top? Savannah finding out that he cheated? Or is it because I’m a guy? He knows I would never say anything, so that only makes me think it’s the gay thing. Or he really, truly thinks I took advantage of him… but I try not to think about that because it makes me so angry I see red. Austen couldn’t possibly think I’m that much of a scumbag, can he?
Stop thinking about it, Cameron.
The alcohol starts to kick in—thank fuck—and before I know it, I’m walking down the aisle with Savannah’s bridesmaid scowling at me, her too-straight nose pointed high up in the air as if she’s too good to be seen with me.
Why the hell am I here?
The church is grand with a high domed ceiling and enough seating to fit five hundred people, at least. Pretty sure each seat is filled. How does someone even know that many people?
I do a great job of zoning out until I get elbowed in the back and realize I’m being stared at because I need to hand over the ring to the officiant. It was given to me by the adorable little ring bearer, one of Austen’s cousins. He’s maybe six, and too cute in his little matching grey suit.
I try my best to go back into my head, not wanting to hear Austen’s promises to Savannah. The last thing I need to hear right now is how he’s going to promise to love her and take care of her forever, as if she deserves that from him.
Some part of me hoped Austen would see reason and realize he’s making a mistake. Come running back to me and we’d ride off into the sunset and be happy forever.
I’d be satisfied if he at least did the first part of that. Maybe I’m not Austen’s forever, but neither is Savannah. She treats him like shit, and I can’t stand her. I wish he would have chosen someone else, even if it wasn’t me. At least if it was someone I liked, someone who treated him the way he deserved, I could make peace with that. But fucking Savannah? It makes me sick.
But it’s his funeral…
As they go through the vows, making their lifelong promises and putting rings on each other’s fingers, for all the rich assholes tooohandahhand wipe their fake tears over, I hold my breath, waiting for someone,anyone, to call this wedding off.
It doesn’t happen.
Does that ever actually happen, anyway?
