The Best Man (Chesapeake Shores Book 2)

by Andi Burns

  “Better than good. Thanks, Molls. Are you sure you don’t have plans? Ashley mentioned you were seeing some guy, but since I haven’t met him, I guess it can’t be serious, right?” my dad jokes.

  “Haha. No, I’m not busy.”

  “Alright, then. We’ll see you Friday, sweetie.”

  “Ok, Dad,”

  “Love you, kiddo,” he says.

  “Love you. Hey, Dad?” I ask, half-hoping he’s already hung up.

  No such luck. “What’s up, Molly Grace?”

  “Ok, total subject change, but just go with it, ok?”

  “Always, Molls.”

  “So, um, not to sound accusatory or anything, but, um, you’ve been married a million times.”

  My dad laughs. “Technically only four, but I see your point.”

  “Yea, so…”

  “What’s on your mind, Molls. Spit it out. I promise I can take it.”

  “Would you do it all again? I mean, of course you would, you love your kids, but—”

  “I get it, Molls. Amazing kids and stepkids aside, would I do it all again? The answer is yes. Look, your mom and I were babies ourselves when you were born. It didn’t work out, but we’re still very good friends. And I loved Jill and Lisa. Sure, looking back, I made mistakes, but I like to think I’ve learned from them. And one of the things I’ve learned is that when you find love, you hold on to it.”

  “That’s almost exactly what Stella said.”

  “That lady knows her shit. And why are you asking me if you’ve already got the best advice out there?” I can hear the smile in his voice.

  “True. You’re just wastin’ my time, Pops. I’ll let you get back to your flirty texts from Colin.”

  “Thanks a lot, Molls.”

  We hang up, and I feel better, lighter than I have in years. It’s like I’ve been carrying this weight around, and suddenly, I’ve realized I don’t need it anymore.

  What I do need, though, is Ev.

  And I need a way to convince him to give me another chance.

  The weather’s great. There’s not a cloud in the sky, and the breeze is light. I’m out on my boat, and I should be loving life right now.

  But, of course, I’m missing Molly. Nothing is the same without her. I think of the night we met and how restless I’d been that day. Now that I know what life is like with Molly in it, my restlessness is a thousand times worse.

  I’m not searching anymore. I’ve found what I want.

  I just don’t know how to hold on to it.

  Nate’s right, though. Leave it to my young, unattached assistant to come through with thought-provoking relationship advice. We don’t need a piece of paper or a ring or a ceremony or any of that. I couldn’t see that before; I was so wrapped up in my own perception of what a relationship should be, that I didn’t fully appreciate the relationship I had.

  I just need Molly, for as long as she’ll let me have her.

  She looked beautiful, as always, yesterday. I should have been paying attention to the wedding and the gender reveal—and I was. I was just paying a lot more attention to Molly.

  When she said she loved me, I wanted to jump onto the roof and shout it to the neighborhood below.

  But, unfortunately for me, it wasn’t that kind of declaration. It was more of the “I love you, but…” variety.

  Standing here, staring at the water, I feel a sense of peace. And I know now that I’ll take her love in whatever form she wants to give it—conventions and expectations be damned.

  The fact is that I like my life a hell of a lot better when Molly’s in it.

  They’re working on the elevator at Chesapeake Shores, and the sound is unholy, so I’ve relocated my office to Drip, my favorite coffee shop.

  I’ve been here an hour already, and I’ve spent at least half that time debating on whether I should send Ev a text of his cat sweatshirt—now in hot pink!

  Gah. Are we there yet? Are we at that place where we can send silly texts?

  I need Ava’s sage advice right about now, but it’s not even 10 a.m., and I doubt her chemistry teacher would appreciate the interruption.

  I could ask Delilah, my favorite barista, for advice. But, unlike me, she’s actually working, so I should probably leave her to it.

  You know what? Fuck it. I’m sending the text because I want to send the text. And I’m not the kind of gal who sits around, wondering whether she should text someone. I’ve been up in my feelings for too damn long. And it’s time to take some action.

  I take a pic of the sweatshirt hanging on the wall and shoot it to Ev, along with a text.

  Molly: Need one in pink?

  Two seconds later, I get a response.

  Ev: Hell no.

  Molly: Don’t come crying to me when they’re all sold out in your size.

  Ev: I’ll drown my tears in the purple one. That’s what I use it for. Well, that and mopping up spills.

  Molly: Blasphemy. That poor cat.

  Satisfied with our conversation and my ability to shake off this funk I’ve been in, I finally get some work done.

  I don’t know where Ev and I are headed or what will happen between us, but I’m not afraid of the future anymore.

  I order a bagel for lunch, and Delilah, bless her heart, keeps my teacup full all day long. At five o’clock, I pack up and head out to my car, shocked to see Ev, leaning against his, in the parking lot.

  “I took a chance that you’d still be here. So, when I drove by and spotted your car, I stopped.”

  “You can’t blame me. It’s the best coffee shop in town.”

  “True, but you hate coffee.”

  “But I don’t hate chocolate croissants.”

  “What else don’t you hate, Molls?” There’s a vulnerability beneath his smile, and it absolutely kills me. But I’m not quite ready to have this heavy conversation in a coffee shop parking lot.

  “That’s a long list, Ev. But it starts with donuts.”

  He smiles, and God, how I’ve missed that.

  “How do you feel about boats, Molls?”

  “Pretty damn good, actually.”

  His smile grows impossibly broader. “You are damn near perfect, Ms. Randall.”

  “Damn near?” I flirt, and then realize he must be referencing my non-commitment elephant sidekick.

  “You don’t like pickles. That’s sacrilegious, but I’ll let it slide since you like the water. Join me?” There’s a hesitation in his voice that I’ve never heard before. I take the passenger seat this time, and, I can’t lie, the ride down to the marina is blessedly short and terribly awkward. It’s like we’re trying on clothes that just don’t fit.

  “Ev…” I begin, knowing one of us has to start this conversation.

  “Let me ask you a question, Molls.”

  “Okay.”

  “You like being out on the water?”

  “I do,” I say, repeating my sentiment from five minutes ago.

  “Good. Do you want to go sailing with me for an hour or two tonight?”

  “Yes,” I begin.

  “Good. Then that’s what we’ll do. No big talks, no declarations, no decisions. Just my three favorite things: you, me and my boat,” he laughs.

  It’s so strange not to have a plan. It feels a little odd to be hanging in this no-man’s land. We’re not friends, but we’re not lovers anymore, either. But the thought of leaving makes me want to cry, so I take his hand, and we walk down the dock.

  In a matter of minutes, we’re leaving the slip and setting sail. The bay is gorgeous tonight, and the view from the boat is unreal. I pull out my phone to snap a few pictures. Ev photobombs one of my shots, and I laugh.

  “Can I get you a drink?” he asks, gesturing to the cooler under the seat.

  I nod.

  “This is awkward as hell, isn’t it?” Ev shakes his head. “Nate would be so disappointed in me. I’m the exact opposite of smooth right now.” He leans against the rail, and I sit opposite him, curling my legs
underneath me.

  “Same here. Ava would be less than pleased with me, too. Seems there are very definite rules about if you can text and when you can text and how much you can text.”

  “Yea, that uh, text you sent a few days ago?”

  “OMG. So not cool. Winn stole my phone and asked if we were still on for next week, just because I wanted to know if we were still on for next week.”

  “Nate figured either someone stole your phone or you were drunk. The typos did not fit with your signature style.”

  I laugh. “How’s work been? And how is Nate?”

  Ev takes a seat across from me, as the waves rock against the boat. We’re idling now, just enjoying the gentle sway of the boat.

  “Nate’s great. And work is, too. Actually,” he clears his throat, “Nate and I are branching out on our own. We’re starting a financial advisory firm here in town.”

  “What? Wow, that’s great. But, it’s such a change of pace for you.”

  “Yea, turns out, I’m tired of the rat race. And Nate and I work really well together. There are a lot of businesses here in town, so we figured our expertise will be put to good use.

  “That’s fantastic,” I tell him, and I mean it. I catch him up on Winn and Ava and Chesapeake Shores. Before I realize it, I’m next to him at the wheel, and the sun is setting, as we make our way back to the dock.

  Wrapping his arm around me, Ev says, “Look, Molly, I’m sure this is breaking all the break-up rules, but damn, do I miss you.”

  “I miss you, too, Ev,” I say, letting the cool breeze blow against my face, as I curl up into his strong, solid body.

  It’s been a week since my boat ride with Molly. We haven’t seen each other since, because she’s been busy with her family, and Nate and I have been scouting locations and clients.

  But we’ve been texting steadily. It’s clear that we can’t give each other up, but we’ve yet to have ‘the talk’ that we both know is coming.

  In fact, it’s coming today.

  We have our tasting at The Hilltop Winery today, and I plan to show Molly just how much I love her. And just how much I understand what she needs and what she doesn’t.

  Here’s hoping my declaration of love, my plans, and some wine do the trick. Kidding. I’m kidding.

  I pick her up at work and toss her the keys. “Ophelia’s all yours,” I say.

  “Ophelia? Hell no. She dies.”

  “Fair point. Lucasta, perhaps?”

  “That’s worse,” she laughs. “Where did you come up with these names?”

  “I borrowed E’s baby name book.” I shrug.

  “Yea, this name conversation is not over,” she says, as we buckle up and turn out of the lot. We drive in companionable silence ,and it’s a quick trip. Pretty soon, we pull into the lot.

  “There are a lot of cars here for 3:00 on a Tuesday, no?”

  “Look at you, judging other wine-lovers,” I say, laughing.

  “Never. I even made a new shirt for the occasion.” She spreads her arms wide, and I get a great view of her boobs. And also the shirt that reads Corks are for Quitters.

  “And you look lovely.” We step inside, and I tell the woman at the desk that we’re here to see Steffie for our 3:00 appointment.

  We’re led into the tasting room and seated at a large oak table. A server brings over a flight of wines and explains each choice to us. Just as he leaves, Molly reaches for my hand.

  “Ev, there’s something I need to say. I’m the schemer, right? In my little group of friends, I’m the gal who always has a plan. But I have no schemes today, no plans. Just me.” She takes a deep breath, and I can feel her fingers shaking just a bit, as I hold her hand in mine. “Ev, I miss you. I miss you so much. And I want to be with you. And I know that’s unfair because I don’t want to get married, and I’m not sure I ever will, but two wise people told me that when you find love, you should hold on to it. So that’s what I want to do. I want to hold on to the love I have for you. Because I might not be ready for happily ever after, but I’m ready for happily right now.”

  Her smile is luminous, and there’s a question lingering in her eyes that my kiss tries to erase.

  “You’re stealing my thunder, Molls,” I say, reaching for the folder on the desk and opening it up. Taking great care, I remove each paper, each picture, each fabric swatch and place them all in front of Molly.

  “Ev, what is all this?”

  “This is your party, Molls. Our party, really. It’s the one you’ve been planning for months. This is the catering menu you liked best, and these are the flowers you mooned over, even though my sister’s allergic. And this is the fabric from the dress you couldn’t stop touching when we were in the bridal shop that day.”

  She’s speechless, and I tell myself that’s a good sign.

  “You don’t want a wedding. I know. And I’m not giving you one.” I smile. “Look, Molls, it’s all here. The vacation you said would make the ideal honeymoon. Nan even agreed to make us a chocolate peanut butter cake. And Steffie here,“ I wave to the woman behind the bar, “has three dates left this year that we can pick from.”

  “Ev, I don’t understand. If it’s not a wedding, then…”

  “It’s not a wedding. It’s a party. It’s the perfect party. No wedding. No pastor. No rabbi. No friend who got a certificate from the internet. One of your stepdads is a ship’s captain, but that is not my fault.

  “I hear you, Molly. I’m not offering you marriage, because that’s not what you want or what you need. But I hope to hell that you still want and need me. Love like ours should be celebrated, so that’s what I want to do—throw a huge party to tell our friends and family and anyone else who will listen that I love you. I don’t need a ring or a piece of paper, Molls, but I need you.”

  My heart beats double-time as I wait for her reply. Lifting her lips to mine, she gives me all the answer I need.

  “This is crazy,” I say to Ev, for what is likely the 400th time today.

  “But it’s the good kind of crazy, right? Not the Patrice Madigan brand of crazy?”

  I laugh. “Definitely the good kind of crazy. And I’m bracing myself for your mother’s brand of crazy. We’ll be at the restaurant in ten minutes, so the fun isn’t far off,” I quip.

  “But that’s the genius in my plan. Lunch can only last an hour because we have to meet up with the photographer for our non-engagement pictures.”

  Shaking my head, I say, “I can’t believe you bought a bear-skin rug for the pictures.”

  “It’s not a real bear-skin rug. That would be creepy. Besides, I had to get one. That’s what we promised at our first meeting with her.”

  I think back a few months ago to our very first wedding mission and our meeting with Lori, the photographer. And our outrageous requests. So much has happened since then, and, thank goodness, Lori has a sense of humor.

  We pull in to the country club, and I hand the keys to the valet, who looks to be just a little older than Winn. I’m not sure I trust him with Priscilla the Porsche, but if I grill him about his driving record and ask to see his license, we’ll be late for lunch.

  Ev’s parents are seated at a table by the window, and we join them. We exchange hellos, but no hugs. His family is so different from mine. My dad tackles Ev with a bear hug, each time we get together.

  “Everett, Molly, how nice of you to join us.”

  “Thanks for inviting us, Mother. As you know, we can’t stay too long. We have an appointment with the photographer at 2:00.”

  “Yes, of course. I’d never keep you from something so important as pretend engagement photographs,” she says, the derision clear in every word.

  “It’s not a pretend engagement. It’s a non-engagement, Mother. We’ve been through this,” Ev says in a bored tone, as he glances over the menu.

  “That’s not a real thing, Everett.”

  “It is. It’s on the 20th. You know this,” he says, unfazed by her obstinance.

 
“Will you be able to join us?” I ask, since they haven’t RSVPed, which seems like it would be a crime in their social circle, but whatever.

  “Of course we’ll be there,” Ev’s father cuts in, and frankly, I’m surprised. I figured he was either asleep or sneakily watching a sports show on his phone.

  “Really? Because you didn’t make it to Elaine’s wedding,” Ev interjects. “She’s doing really well, by the way. Baby’s healthy and could be here any day now.” His irritation is clear, but I don’t make a move to stop him. These people need to be called on their shit.

  “Yes, I spoke with her this morning. Her back is sore, and Simon is hovering like a mother hen, so they decided not to make the drive up today. And I’m truly sorry we couldn’t make it to their wedding, but who plans a surprise wedding? That’s utterly ridiculous.”

  “Ridiculous,” Ev echoes.

  “Utterly,” I agree.

  “Almost as ridiculous as a non-wedding,” he says.

  “Nothing’s that ridiculous,” I tell him, “or that perfect.”

  THE END

  One month later

  As promised, there was no wedding, no ceremony, just one hell of a party.

  There must be a million twinkle lights out here on the patio of the winery, and, like everything else about today, it’s incredible. And the day is just about to get better.

  I feel gorgeous in my dress. It’s this midnight blue number with a plunging neckline. And my heels are so high and pointy that my stilettos could be registered as weapons—that’s always the sign of a good shoe.

  I’m surrounded by all of my favorite people. My parents and stepparents and former stepparents are all here, along with most of my step- and half-siblings.

  Dunc is playing deejay, and Nick and Trick are out on the dance floor, showing off their moves. I’m not sure where Gavin got to, but he’s around here somewhere, I’m sure.

  And, of course, Simon and Elaine are here with baby Emeline. She’s just a month old, so I don’t think they’ll stay too long. But Lori got plenty of pictures of all of us, so that’s good.