by Anna Martin
“You even got my hair right! How did you get my hair right?”
It was loosely curled, with tiny flowers sewn in a circle crown on top of her head.
“Lucky guess?”
“You’re the best friend ever,” she said, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and hugging tight.
“Now you’re here, I’m going to go check in with the caterers,” Annie said.
“I thought I was here to fix tables.”
“Oh, we did that,” Lacey said, waving his concerns away as she set the framed sketch carefully on the dressing table.
“You,” Evan growled, “are a menace.”
She ducked out of the way when he went to grab her, dashing to the other side of the bedroom and cowering behind the bed.
“Where are the other girls?” Evan asked, leaning back against the dresser and shaking his head as he reached for Lacey’s drink and took a slurp.
She made an indignant noise and edged slowly back around the bed. “In my room, on the hair, makeup, and nails production line.”
“Jeez. I ran into your brother downstairs.”
“Tom is here already?” Lacey asked, snatching the drink from Evan’s hand.
He shrugged and reached for his own.
“Your other brother,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Wasn’t quite expecting that.”
“Oops,” Lacey said. “Was he shitty with you?”
“No. He looked like he’d just rolled out of bed.”
She snorted inelegantly. “That’s probably about right. Are you going to be okay today? Are you ever going to tell me what went down between the two of you?”
“Yes and no, in that order,” he said. “I’m going to go check on the bridesmaids.”
“Okay.”
There really was a production line going on. Lacey had six bridesmaids, which was part of the reason Evan had politely declined the offer to join the wedding party. It was already plenty full.
Anthony had two brothers who were acting as groomsmen, plus Lacey’s two brothers, which meant he only had space for two of his own friends in the party. Evan would just unbalance things, and he really didn’t want to be part of the attention of the day. Nor did he particularly want to line up next to Scott for all the pictures that would be on the walls of the Sparrow house for the rest of their lives.
“Hey, girlies,” Evan drawled, leaning against the doorframe and slurping his coffee.
“Hey, Evan,” they chorused back to him, making him laugh. “How’s it going?”
They looked content enough, even if the six of them, plus the girls from the salon, made the room more than a little cramped. The six identical ocean blue dresses were hanging from Lacey’s wardrobe doors, with six identical bouquets lined up underneath.
“I’m going to go check on things downstairs,” he said. “I’ll see you all later.”
Large groups of people still weren’t really his thing. Evan preferred to melt into the background rather than standing out in a crowd.
Evan wandered through the house and out to the backyard, where the wedding would take place. The decorators had set up an arch of white roses on a small plinth underneath one of the huge beech trees Evan remembered climbing with Scott as a kid. There was plenty of space in this yard; they’d spent weeks exploring it as children, and Evan retained that sense of childish familiarity for the space.
When they’d learned of Lacey’s wedding plans, old Mr. and Mrs. Cunningham from the house next door had insisted that she use their yard too. Earlier in the week the tall fence panels that separated the two yards had been taken down, and the marquee for the reception was now erected in the Cunningham’s yard.
The whole area was covered in roses and twinkly fairy lights, which would be turned on after dark. The white folding chairs were already set up for the ceremony, and Evan wandered through the two yards, taking it all in. He’d been involved with planning this wedding almost since the very beginning. It felt strange for the big day to finally be here.
The day was still starting to warm up, but by lunchtime, Evan knew he’d be grateful for his more relaxed outfit and the ability to roll his shirtsleeves to his elbows.
“Evan,” someone called, and Evan turned.
Thomas Sparrow really did look like his younger brother. Evan laughed and walked back up to envelop Tom in a bear hug.
“You look good, dude,” Tom said, squeezing the air out of Evan’s lungs.
“You scrub up pretty good yourself. How have you been?”
Tom worked in DC with his wife, Ashley. Not too far away, but far enough that Evan didn’t see him all that often. He’d already changed into his suit for the day—dark blue with a white shirt, to blend with the Navy officer’s uniforms Anthony and his friends would be wearing.
“I’m good,” Tom said. “Have you seen my sister yet?”
“Yeah. She called me here early with some very avoidable disaster,” he said, arching his eyebrow and giving Tom a knowing smile.
“Sounds like my sister.”
“Ah, I don’t mind. Is everything ready?”
“I assume so. I just got here with Ash.”
“Sorry I missed her at the rehearsal dinner.”
Tom leaned back against the deck, and Evan decided there was no way Tom could know that Evan had kissed Scott in that very same spot, almost eight years ago.
“She was busy throwing up.” Tom looked around for possible eavesdroppers, then lowered his voice. “She’s pregnant. We’re having a baby.”
“Congratulations,” Evan said with a laugh. “That’s fantastic. When?”
“Middle of November. We haven’t told anyone yet. We didn’t want to steal Lacey’s spotlight, and it’s still early days.”
“Sure. I won’t tell anyone.”
“I just wanted to tell someone,” Tom said, beaming. “And I can’t tell family, you know? Gossip travels so fucking fast.”
“My lips are sealed. You’re going to be amazing parents.”
“Thanks.” Tom nodded. “Okay. I’m going to go find my wife.”
“I’ll go check on the bride.”
“Good plan.”
Evan let Tom pull him into another tight hug before he headed back upstairs, sure that Lacey would have found something for him to do by now.
The ceremony was beautiful, of course. Evan sat in the second row and didn’t pretend to hide his proud tears as Lacey became Mrs. Lacey Sparrow-Williams. If he spent as much time watching one particular groomsman as he did following the ceremony, then no one needed to know.
Not that anyone could fail to notice how incredible Scott looked in his suit. It fit him perfectly—tight over his broad shoulders, the white carnation tucked into his lapel drawing the eye to his perfect flat chest.
Scott still wore his hair a little too long, though these days it was carefully styled back from his face rather than landing in an inelegant flop. When he turned, Evan got to confirm his suspicions that those dress pants were cut fucking perfectly over the swell of Scott’s high, tight ass.
Evan might hate the guy, but he couldn’t deny that he was still completely, utterly fucking gone for him.
After the ceremony, they were all ushered through to the marquee for lunch, and Evan took his place at a table of people he thankfully liked. That was another perk of helping Lacey with the wedding planning. He wasn’t stuck at the back with her racist old aunt and a bunch of bratty flower girls.
Day melted into evening, with the smallest changes transforming the marquee from elegant reception venue to a space dedicated to partying. The tables were cleared to the edges, revealing a wide dance floor. The space the waiters had used for prep during dinner was turned into a generously stocked open bar. There was wine. The fairy lights came on, and then it was perfect.
As soon as the DJ started playing old Motown hits, Evan took his cue and found Lacey for a dance. She had been busy with family and bridesmaids for most of the day, but he’d helped organize this show, and he wanted a
dance.
Evan twirled Lacey around, making her laugh, then pulled her back into his arms. She sighed and rested her head on his shoulder, and he felt a strange sort of protective urge toward her. Like a sister.
Someone tapped Evan’s shoulder lightly.
“May I cut in?” Anthony asked.
“Sure,” Lacey said, stepping back with a wicked grin.
Never one to back down from a challenge, Evan wrapped his arm around Anthony’s waist and grabbed his hand, turning them in a quick two-step.
Anthony was still laughing when Evan handed him back to his wife, and Evan offered him a quick salute.
“At ease, Captain,” Anthony said. Evan felt his face fall, just a little.
Captain.
He turned, and Scott was watching him from the bar. He’d felt something, someone’s eyes on him as he’d danced with the groom, though when you were a guy dancing with another guy, especially one in uniform, that was to be expected.
Evan nodded to the newlyweds and made his way back to the single glass of wine he’d been nursing all night.
Scott cut him off halfway between the dance floor and his table. “Buy you a drink?”
“It’s an open bar, Cap,” Evan said, using the nickname without thinking. It seemed to shock Scott as much as Evan.
“Shit, haven’t heard that in a while.”
Scott wasn’t going to let it go, then. Evan shrugged and gave him a twisted sort of smile. “I guess I could take a top-up.”
Scott nodded. He’d loosened his tie and lost the jacket at some point in the evening, and his hair had gone from tidy to elegantly messy. Evan wondered if he’d ever stop looking at this man and seeing something more. More than he should. More than anyone else ever seemed to.
Evan followed him to the bar in a companionable sort of silence and grabbed one of the bottles of rosé to pour his own glass, then added a few ice cubes. He didn’t want to get drunk tonight. He was driving home.
“You want to go for a walk?” Scott asked. He’d helped himself to a beer, twisting the top with his bare hand.
Evan nodded. “Sure,” he said, his voice sounding thick. There was no way to back out of the offer without being the asshole.
They walked out of the tent with a weird sort of silence looming over them. Evan kept his eyes on his feet, not wanting to look up and accidentally make eye contact with someone who would get the significance of this.
Scott seemed to know where he was going, so Evan followed. Wasn’t that the way it had always been, back in the day? Scott led, Evan followed. If nothing else, Evan was glad he’d grown a backbone in the past ten years.
They went from the Cunninghams’ yard back to the Sparrows’. Both were now lit up with those tiny, twinkly fairy lights, turning a suburban backyard into a magical wonderland. The moon was bright in the night sky, and the stars twinkled too, just a bit farther away.
Scott stopped in front of the old pool house and took a seat on the top step of the porch. After a second, Evan joined him.
“Is this an argument?” Evan asked after taking a sip of his wine. Liquid courage.
“What? No.”
“Okay. I just wanted to be prepared if it was.”
“It’s not an argument, Evan.”
“Good.”
“So, how have you been?”
Evan shot Scott an incredulous look, but he was staring at the bottle in his hands and didn’t seem to notice.
“I’m good,” Evan said slowly. “I bought a house down in North Carolina. Just outside Nags Head.”
“Oh, nice.”
“I mean, it’s tiny, like, really small. But it has space for my studio, and it’s not like there’s anyone else there with me, so it’s fine really.”
That was his way of telling Scott he wasn’t in a relationship. For a moment, he wondered if Scott had picked up on that.
“So, you didn’t bring a date.”
“No. Neither did you.”
Scott hummed noncommittally. Evan thought that this conversation was like pulling teeth.
“You’re still in Chicago?” Evan asked. Small talk was better than awkward silence. The music from the marquee drifted over to them. Otis Redding. Try a little tenderness.
“Yeah. I just moved, actually. It’s a new apartment complex. It’s closer to work than my old place, so that’s good.”
“Sorry, I don’t even know what you do.”
Scott gave him a funny look and the lopsided smile Evan had fallen for at fifteen fucking years old.
“I work for a financial services company. I’m an investments expert.”
“Okay. What does that mean?”
Scott barked a laugh. “Mostly I track the performance of different funds and make sure they’re doing what they’re supposed to. Then I refer that against our investment portfolio and decide on whether or not we’re going to make any changes.”
“Oh. Do they pay you well for that?”
“Well enough, yeah.”
“I’m sorry. It sounds crazy to me. But then I never did have a head for numbers.”
“No,” Scott said, and Evan still couldn’t interpret his tone. Did he sound almost… sad? Wistful? Something?
“Okay, this is weird. I’m going to go back to the party,” Evan said as he started to stand.
“No, please,” Scott said, grabbing Evan’s wrist and dragging him back down. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t want to jump right into—I thought we should—”
“Should what? It’s been years, Scott. We’ve both moved on with our lives. It’s fine. You don’t have to do this.”
“I do,” he said. “I really do.”
For a moment, Evan felt like he was fighting tears. This was so fucking stupid. If there had been an easier way to avoid Scott, he would have. He’d been doing just fine so far. Damn Lacey and her stupid wedding.
“Okay,” Evan said, sighing and keeping his eyes closed as he sat back down. “Okay.”
“I wanted to apologize,” Scott mumbled.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“I wanted to apologize,” he repeated, louder this time. “I was a total asshole to you, and you never deserved that. I never got to say sorry—and I don’t blame you for not returning my calls, but—”
“Wait, you never called.”
“I did,” Scott said ruefully. “A lot. I left you voice mails too.”
“I never got them.” Evan frowned, trying to remember back. “I went back to college, and I… shit. I lost my phone. Just for a few days. Then it turned up down the back of the couch. The battery had died, and Cael….”
“Your boyfriend.”
“At the time, yeah. We didn’t even make it to spring break the next year. He got all weird and possessive, and we broke it off.”
“Huh.”
“I’d forgotten about that.”
“I’m sorry it didn’t work out with him.”
“No, you’re not,” Evan said with a harsh laugh.
“I get that you don’t want to forgive and forget what happened,” Scott said, his voice laced with a mixture of anger and hurt. “That’s okay. You don’t have to. But I wanted to say sorry for the way I treated you. I did want to make it up, to clear the air and stuff, but I was told to give you space and you’d come ’round. But you never came ’round, and I guess the next time we were both at home, it was pretty obvious you didn’t want to see me.”
“I was so fucking mad at you,” Evan said softly. “You were the one person I thought I could trust, and….”
“I really am sorry.”
“Okay,” Evan said, nodding. “Thank you. For saying that.”
“Can we maybe—” Scott started, and Evan cut him off before he could go any further.
“I’m still gay, Scott. I’m even more open about that than I was the last time we spoke. You know those guys who are gay but say they don’t ‘flaunt’ it? Well, fuck them. I flaunt it. I dance in gay bars on podiums, and I march in parades with a big fucking
flag, wearing pink sparkly shorts. I am what I fucking am, and I’m not sorry, and I’m not going to hide that. Not for you, not for anyone.”
“I’m so, so jealous of you. Did you ever consider that?” Scott said, his voice little more than a pained hiss.
“You’re… what?”
“I’m bisexual,” he said with a humorless laugh. “And for my whole life, I’ve been too fucking scared to do anything about it. I see guys like you all the time, in Boystown, and I wish it was that easy for me. To know who I am and be out and proud about it. But you’re now one of only three people on the fucking planet who knows and… and….”
“And we’re back at the same argument again!” Evan exclaimed. “It’s the same thing, Scott. You seem to think my life is just sunshine and rainbows, and it really isn’t. If you want to come out, that’s your thing, it’s your life, your story. I can’t do it for you.”
“I’m not saying you should. I knew you had a crush on me, by the way.”
Evan recoiled, stung. “Yeah,” he snapped. “For close to five years of my life. And you were my best friend, and I wasn’t out, so I didn’t do anything about it.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because I had too much respect for you. And our friendship.”
“Did you ever think I wouldn’t mind if you had? Done something about it, I mean.”
“No,” Evan said icily. “I didn’t ever think that my straight best friend would be okay with his also supposedly straight best friend making a move on him.”
“Well, I would have been.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t do this,” Evan said, standing and leaving the wineglass. There was too much emotion running through his veins, making it feel like he was boiling over from the inside. He’d go in, find Lacey and hug her, then grab his shitty car and drive back to his shitty house and cry.
He got half a dozen steps away before Scott caught up with him, calling his name.
“I can’t, Scott,” Evan said as Scott jogged around and put both his hands on Evan’s chest. “I can’t.”
“I’m sorry,” Scott whispered, and he trailed one of those hands up to cup Evan’s jaw, gently thumbing away the tears that were pooling on his cheeks. “I’m sorry. Here.”