The Best Man

by Natasha Anders

  “We’ll talk again soon,” she promised him, then opened the door and left before he could say anything more.

  Spencer sighed and resigned himself to a night with just his palm and a bottle of scotch for company. Same shit, different day, really.

  Tomorrow would sort itself out.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Daff didn’t know how she felt. Part of her was relieved that it was over, another was humiliated that he had called her out on all her bullshit, and another still was saddened that it had ended before it began. They hadn’t really done much more than some heavy petting, but the orgasms he had given her were streets ahead of anything she’d ever experienced before. Truculent, taciturn, socially inept Spencer Carlisle knew his stuff in the bedroom. Who knew?

  Well . . . Daff now knew. And she truly wished she didn’t. How the hell was she supposed to act casual with him when they were around family and friends? And worse, he knew other things about her. He’d been way too on the mark with some of the stuff he’d said. She hadn’t been fully sold on the idea of no-strings sex with him. She didn’t like going down on a guy—at least, she hadn’t with her two previous lovers. She felt like a cold fish in bed because their games had turned her off and that had felt like her failure. Apparently BDSM wasn’t her thing, but they’d expected it to be. Both of them. Why?

  Did she give off some kind of kinky vibe? Her very first sexual partner had tied her up, gagged her, and spanked her the first time they’d had sex. Not quite the initiation she’d expected. It had been frightening and intimidating, and he hadn’t even asked her if she was okay with it. Just assumed she would be. And then he’d been all kinds of smug about his performance afterward.

  Thinking the fault was with her, Daff had said nothing, merely pretended to enjoy it. She’d gotten really good at faking orgasms. Jake’s bag of tricks had expanded to include nipple clamps and blindfolds, as well as other handy restraints and harnesses that had made her feel claustrophobic and nauseous every time they had sex. The relationship had lasted for three years and had only ended when he got bored with her.

  She shook her head. This trip down nightmare lane wasn’t exactly fun, and she preferred never to think about Jake Kincaid ever again. Shar Bridges, a former high school friend, had introduced Daff to Jake.

  Shar had introduced Lia to her douchebag ex-fiancé, Clayton Edmonton III, as well, and had promised that he was the perfect guy for Lia. Of course, with Shar being a total bitch and hindsight being twenty-twenty, none of them should ever have trusted her with their love lives. Shar had terrible taste in men and a mean streak a mile wide. And she had been a total rhymes-with-punt to Daisy for years. Why the hell the McGregor sisters hadn’t booted that bitch and her entourage of mean girls years ago, Daff would never know.

  Daff somehow managed to get home without paying real attention to her surroundings; luckily the one main road in town was empty this time of night. She let herself into the house and sent Spencer a quick message that simply stated: home.

  Spencer was right—she had way too many hang-ups, and it had been a stupid idea to get involved with him in the first place. She couldn’t stand sex, which was why her offer to Spencer had baffled her. A spur-of-the-moment impulse that had come from seemingly nowhere. And now look at her—the very first time she’d ever picked up the reins, the horse had thrown her and bolted. Naturally.

  But the truly messed-up thing was that despite the abject failure, she had learned something new about herself. After the powerful orgasms she’d experienced with Spencer, she now doubted that she’d ever climaxed with a man before. She had never felt anything nearly as intense.

  She now understood why Daisy looked like the cat that got the cream whenever she was around Mason. To think she’d pitied Daisy after learning her sister had been a virgin at twenty-seven. Now Daff envied her somewhat. Daisy had scored the jackpot with her first (and only) lover, while Daff would have been better off without hers.

  She checked her phone to see if Spencer had responded to her text. The message had been read, but he hadn’t responded. Not even with a dumb emoji. Her heart sank, and she realized that she was going to miss him. Maybe keeping him as a friend was worth considering.

  She wasn’t sure. It wasn’t a decision she was ready to make, not when everything below her waist was still clenching after his unselfish pleasuring earlier.

  She scrubbed a hand over her face and tiredly made her way to the bathroom for a shower. She fell into bed after that but couldn’t get her roiling thoughts under control. So many bad decisions had led to this moment in her life, and she was buried beneath years of regret. So much regret.

  She tossed and turned, going over every mistake, every stupid decision, every wrong turn, but she still couldn’t pinpoint exactly where everything had gone so very wrong.

  She knew she had to change something, had to better herself and her life. Find clarity and a way to rid herself of these pervasive feelings of inadequacy and hollowness. She wished that she could just wake up tomorrow and find herself living the perfect life. But she wasn’t entirely sure what constituted a perfect life, and she had no idea what would make her happy. It was a grim and disturbing awareness.

  “Hi, there.” Lia waltzed into the boutique just before twelve the following afternoon, and Daff glared into her middle sister’s cheerfully smiling face.

  “Daisy sent you, didn’t she?” Lia’s smile wavered slightly before she righted it and blasted Daff with an even brighter one.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I thought I’d join you for lunch.” She lifted her little strawberry-shaped lunch box and glass bottle of orange juice as proof. Daisy had chosen the worst possible spy; Lia didn’t have a duplicitous bone in her body. But since Lia had given up her job as a minder at the local day care center last year, she had a flexible schedule until she found something new. So Lia was really Daisy’s only choice in whatever recon mission she’d cooked up to figure out who Daff’s mystery man was.

  “Lia.”

  “Okay, fine. She told me to find out whatever I could about the”—she blushed and cleared her throat delicately—“the Dick. Why would you call him that? Why not Mr. McSexy or Mr. Big or something? Why refer to his anatomy?”

  “Firstly, those references are so dated I’m embarrassed—and cringing on the inside—for you, and secondly, it wasn’t so much in reference to his anatomy as to his personality.” Not that she thought of him in that way anymore.

  “Why would you date a guy you think is a . . . a . . . you know?”

  “We’re not dating.” Daff shrugged. “And really, you’re wasting your time. He won’t bring or send lunch today. It’s over between us.” She forced down the pang of regret at the words.

  “Oh. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. It was nothing.” Daff averted her eyes, not wanting her sister to see the lie in them.

  “Well, I’m here now. I might as well stay for lunch. What are you having?”

  “I brought some fruit and a packet of chips.” She was really going to miss Spencer’s lunches.

  “Ugh, that’s not a proper lunch. You can share my—” The bell above the door interrupted her words, and they both looked up to see young Alton from SCSS walk in, carefully carrying a large-ish brown paper bag.

  “Afternoon, miss. The boss asked me to deliver this to you.” Shocked that Spencer would still do this, despite everything that had happened last night, Daff accepted the bag. “Careful, miss, there’s soup in one of the containers.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Alton.”

  “My pleasure, miss.” He grinned at her and retreated with a jaunty wave.

  Daff carefully placed the bag on the counter and tore the note from the folded top. Ignoring Lia’s shocked expression, she turned her back and read the short note through a haze of tears.

  I’m sorry. I hope we can still be friends.

  S

  PS: And even if we can’t be, don’t expect me to stop sending your lunch.<
br />
  Oh God. Why was he apologizing? The man had been nothing but amazing since this all began. He was right, she was always apologizing to him, but only because he deserved those apologies.

  She blinked away the tears determinedly and cleared her throat before facing Lia again. Her sister still wore the same gobsmacked expression on her face, and Daff rolled her eyes.

  “Okay, so it’s Spencer. Whatever. It’s over. Moving along swiftly, if you tell Daisy, I’m going to have to cut a bitch! And that bitch be you.”

  “I’m not going to be the one to tell Daisy, are you crazy? She’ll freak out.”

  “She wouldn’t,” Daff scoffed before thinking about it for a moment. “Would she?”

  “Daffy—”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “Daffy,” Lia continued stubbornly as Daff scowled, “you know she’ll worry about the wedding and family dynamics and gatherings. She’d worry that it’d be awkward and that you or Spencer would always be making excuses not to be in each other’s company. Baby Delphinium’s christening . . . oh, here’s Auntie Daff, but Uncle Spencer couldn’t make it. Baby Dianella’s first birthday, Uncle Spencer is the life of the party while Auntie Daff sits in a corner and sulks before leaving early. Daisy’s thirtieth birthday bash, Daff comes for the first half of the party and Spencer for the second.” Daff gasped indignantly.

  “Lies! I’m the party closer, not Spence. He’d be home in his jammies”—his beautiful, beautiful jammies—“before nine. And also, Jesus, woman . . . you’ve just about plotted out Daisy and Mason’s entire life together in under a minute. That’s a little creepy. You need a proper hobby. And Spencer and I are adults, we’ll make it work.”

  “Daff, last week you called the man bland and insipid and compared him to a mushroom.” Why could no one let the mushroom thing go? “And that’s just one sample from years of sniping and bitching at Spencer. You’ve never made it work.”

  “Well, now we have to, because of Daisy and Mason.”

  “Anyway, my point is, there’s no way I’m telling her about this. It’ll be a shoot-the-messenger type of scenario. I’d rather not be around when she finds out.”

  “She won’t find out. I told you, it’s over.” Lia tilted her head curiously before pointedly looking at the paper bag on the counter between them.

  “This is just Spencer being Spencer. He’s concerned that I don’t eat properly—”

  “He’s right,” Lia inserted wryly.

  “—and so, since we’ve decided to be friends, he’s taken it upon himself to ensure I get at least one decent meal a day.”

  “That’s so sweet,” Lia gushed, and Daff sighed.

  It really was.

  “It’s weird and I told him to stop. But he can be stubborn.”

  “Really? I never imagined that. He always seems so easygoing.”

  It was a little sad how few people really knew Spencer.

  “So what exactly was going between you two and for how long? Was it already ongoing when you said those things last week? Was that like a cover-up to deflect attention from your relationship?”

  If only. Daff regretted a lot of things in her life, but saying those things about Spencer within earshot of the man—no matter how unintentional—ranked up there among her top ten biggest fuckups.

  “It began soon after I apologized to him. He started the lunch thing on Monday, we started the sex thing on Tuesday, and it ended last night. And here we are. TGIF, right?” She removed the carton of soup from the bag, along with thick slices of what looked like home-baked bread, a salad, and a bottle of juice.

  “Three nights? That’s it? What happened?”

  “Nothing. It was an ill-advised endeavor from the start.”

  “So you . . . you slept with him?”

  “Oh, I slept with him, all right,” Daff recalled with a soft smile. “But I didn’t have sex with him, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

  “I don’t understand,” Lia admitted, looking completely baffled.

  “We did other stuff. Fooled around. Touched each other’s naughty bits until it felt good.” Lia went bright red, and Daff rolled her eyes. “Stop being such a prude. I wasn’t half as crude as I could have been.”

  “Oh, believe me, I know. And I thank you for that. It’s just―that image is now seared into my brain forever.”

  “You asked,” Daff said, and Lia winced.

  “I know. So why did it end so quickly? And why didn’t you, y’know, do it?”

  “It was a mistake. A bad idea from the get-go. Spencer’s a nice guy. A good guy. He deserves more than a fuckup like me.”

  “Daff,” Lia protested softly. “That’s nonsense. Spencer—any guy—would be lucky to have you.”

  “No, they wouldn’t. I’m so messed up, Lia,” Daff admitted miserably, all semblance of wisecracking gone. “I’m trying to fix what’s broken, but I can’t be involved with anyone while I do that. It wouldn’t be fair.”

  “Why? What do you think is wrong?”

  Daff swiped at an errant tear, feeling foolish and childish but grateful for her sister’s gentle, nonjudgmental regard and tone of voice. She also liked that Lia didn’t argue with her about something actually being wrong. “Everything,” she said softly. “This job, for one thing. I hate it.”

  “I know.”

  “It feels like everybody knew it before I did,” Daff joked on a sob, and Lia reached over to squeeze her hand.

  “We love you, we can tell when you’re unhappy. And you haven’t been truly happy in a long time. I think that’s why Daisy wanted to know who you were seeing. She said you looked happy when you were reading his note yesterday.”

  Daff shrugged and ran the tip of her index finger around and around the rim of the plastic container holding the untouched soup.

  “But I have news.” Daff sniffed, forcing cheer into her voice and ignoring Lia’s words. “In my first step toward a better life and a better me, I tendered my resignation this morning.”

  Lia inhaled sharply, and a huge smile instantly lit up her face.

  “Oh my word,” she gushed. “That’s wonderful news, Daff.”

  “I just have to work my two months’ notice and this place is history.”

  “I’m so happy for you, Sissy,” she said, coming around the counter to give Daff a hug. Her sisters had always called her Sissy when they were children. A nickname to acknowledge her big sister status. They rarely called her that now that they were adults, and the fact that Lia chose to use it in this moment brought a huge, emotional lump to Daff’s throat. “What did Alison say?”

  Daff giggled wetly as she recalled her boss’s words.

  “She said ‘it’s about damned time,’ and she also said she always knew I’d come to my senses eventually and she’d lose the best manager she’s ever had.”

  “Darned straight you are.”

  “Probably because she paid me peanuts and I was easy on her bank balance . . . Ow! ” The last as Lia slapped her upside her head.

  “Stop being so down on yourself. Yes, this place is quiet and boring during winter, but you said that it has always been her best-performing boutique in summer, and I believe that’s largely because of you.”

  “Thanks.” She grinned.

  “So now what?”

  “God, I don’t know.”

  “At least I won’t be the only one who’ll have to listen to Daddy’s lectures about the values of being a good, hard worker. Of staying the course. Steering ships from rocks. Navigating rough waters . . . I don’t know, there seem to be a lot of seafaring references, I never understand half of it. Pro tip: just nod and keep saying, ‘Yes, Daddy.’ Never interrupt him with a ‘but Daddy’ or anything resembling an excuse. Just pretend to listen. He likes that.”

  “Sound advice.” Daff laughed, feeling a lot lighter for having confided in her sister.

  “So you and Spencer are friends now? Never thought I’d see the day,” Lia mused as she opened her sickeningly cut
e lunch box to reveal the healthy-looking, bento-styled meal. Daff would never have the patience, but Lia lived for crap like that. One day, when she had kids, they’d probably find animal-shaped sandwiches and other cutesy surprises in their lunch boxes every day. Daff wasn’t likely to ever have children, which was a good thing, because they’d probably open their lunch boxes to find nothing but lunch money. Or possibly two-minute noodles, depending on how motherly Daff was feeling.

  “I mean, we’re not bosom buddies or anything. We’re just making an effort not to be shitty to each other. Although, to be fair, he was never really shitty to me. I suppose I’ll be the one making all the effort, because Spencer’s a good guy.”

  “I never thought I’d see the day . . . why were you always so mean to him?”

  “It started in high school. I allowed Shar and her Sharminions to dictate my behavior. It was embarrassing that a kid like Spencer, with his worn clothing, his broken shoes, and his clumsiness—remember how clumsy he was during that gawky adolescent phase before he got all athletic and buff?—anyway, it was embarrassing that he had a crush on me. I was terrified that if I was nice to him, they’d think I liked him back or something.” Daff was ashamed of her behavior now that she recalled it. She had made fun of him, of his clothes, his hair, the slight stammer he always seemed to have around her. And then—somewhere between fourteen and sixteen—Spencer had outgrown the nervous stutter and the clumsiness and had cultivated an aloof, bad-boy persona that Daff had secretly found intriguing. He’d still attempted to flirt with her, and when she was fourteen, he’d started writing furtive poems and letters that she’d mockingly shared with all her girlfriends.

  The poems had stopped after his seventeenth birthday. The flirting, too. He’d been busy with the rugby, working hard, and then, a year later, he’d left for college. He was a bit of a sensation after his triumphant return to Riversend five years later, capitalizing on his short-lived but relatively successful rugby career by opening the most successful business in town and surroundings. But he hadn’t socialized much, just dated here and there. So it had been a surprise to hear that he was dating Tanya Krige.