by Max Monroe
The wedding countdown is officially on, and in just under six days, Sadie will walk down the aisle and commit herself to my brother for the rest of her life.
I’m both excited and petrified for her.
Ha. Okay, I’m just excited, but I can pretend to be horrified at the expense of my annoying big bro.
“If I could have everyone’s attention.” Jessica, Sadie’s best friend and maid of honor, stands up from her seat, taps a fork against her wineglass and raises it toward the bride. “As we get this night started, I want to propose a toast to our girl, Sadie. Otherwise known as the soon-to-be Mrs. Willis.”
All ten bridesmaids—including me—along with Lena, raise our drinks into the air.
“I can still remember that fateful night when Evan spotted the woman who would someday be his wife,” she continues. “After a night of bar-hopping, we ended up in Chelsea, at some random dude’s apartment with a group of people we’d just met not even two hours before.”
“Not our smartest moment.” Sadie cringes and Jessica grins.
“Yeah, but instead of ending up on the eleven o’clock news, you met your future husband.”
“Thank God.” The bride’s face turns up in a smile.
“And,” her maid of honor continues, “while you spent the night wooing Evan Willis with your fiery red hair and drunken charm, I spent the night hoping his sexy-as-hell best friend would go home with me.”
Evan’s best friend? Oh God. Please don’t say Milo. Please don’t say you slept with Milo.
“You tried to take Milo home that night?” Sadie bursts into laughter, and it takes me a Hulk-sized effort to keep a straight face.
“You bet your ass, I did.” Jessica shrugs and my chest tightens. “Well, tried and failed, but I tried nonetheless.”
My shoulders sag, and a breath of air I didn’t realize I was holding releases from my lungs.
Why in the hell am I so relieved by that?
And why do I get the sense that I no longer like Jessica now?
Lena offers a gentle, reassuring squeeze of my thigh beneath the table.
“Anyway,” the chick rambles the fuck on. “I just wanted to say that I love you dearly. I am so damn happy for you. And I can’t wait to see the look on Evan’s face when you walk down that aisle Saturday. Happy bachelorette party! Cheers, Sadie!”
Everyone clinks their glasses, and I find myself thirstier than I thought.
In four quick gulps, I down the rest of my wine, and I instruct the passing-by waiter to bring another one at his earliest convenience.
Lord knows, if Sadie’s stupid maid of honor keeps talking about Milo, I’m going to need plenty of alcohol in my system to get through this night.
Jessica sits her flirty ass down and proceeds to ask Sadie a question I’d rather not hear.
“So, speaking of Milo Ives, is he still looking as good as ever?”
Sadie grins. “If you’re wondering if he’s going to be at the wedding Saturday, I can confirm that he is Evan’s best man.”
Jessica’s stupid eyes light up like a Christmas tree. “Which means I get to walk down the aisle with him?”
“Nice try, sweetie,” Sadie answers. “He’ll be walking down the aisle with Maybe.”
Hold the phone.
“I’m walking down the aisle with Milo?”
Sadie meets my eyes and nods. “Yep. That’s how Ev wanted it.”
Can you add your brother to your shit list? Like, is that an okay thing?
Because I just did.
“Oh, look!” Lena announces a little too loudly. “I think our apps are coming this way!”
For a woman who bitched about having to eat at Applebee’s, she sure is losing her shit over food she was complaining about not even two hours ago…
Three servers fill our table with enough greasy food to feed an army, and all of a sudden, my appetite is nowhere to be found.
My stomach twists and turns, and this annoying ache forms on the right side of my abdomen.
Fucking Milo. Even the mention of his stupid perfect name causes me discomfort.
I finish off another glass of wine and tell the waiter to keep ’em coming.
He smirks and heads to the bar.
And a few minutes later, while the bridesmaids stuff their faces with chicken wings, my new best friend—Kevin, the Applebee’s server—sets a fresh glass of Riesling in front of me.
“I love you, Kev,” I say to him with a smile I can’t quite get under control. “You da best, bud.”
Kevin grins, and Lena laughs softly beside me.
“What?” I ask, meeting her eyes and taking another hearty swig of wine.
“Hot damn, momma,” she says quietly, but amusement rests around the edge of her words. “The potato skins just got here, and you’re already blitzed.”
I shrug and take another sip. “It’s a party.”
“A pity party,” she adds, but I have enough booze in my veins to remain unfazed.
“Fine. It’s two parties. One to celebrate the drowning of sorrows, and one to celebrate my future sister-in-law.”
Lena eyes me knowingly. “You do realize that if you keep up this pace all night, I’m going to have to find a wheelchair and wheel your ass home, right?”
“Sounds like a good plan.” I shrug and focus my attention on Jess-i-ca. God, I hate that name so much right now. “So, Jessi-licious, you planning to put the moves on Milo Saturday night?”
I hear he’s always up for a new fuck buddy.
Unless you’re me. Then he can’t.
Jessica flashes a flirty smile on her stupid face and pops a French fry into her mouth. “If that man still looks as good as he did way back when, consider me game.”
“That’s all well and good, but I’m pretty sure Milo is seeing someone,” Sadie chimes in.
Jessica’s face falls like a rock, and I furrow my brow in confusion.
“He’s seeing someone?” I ask and Sadie nods.
“At least, Evan is pretty sure he’s seeing someone.”
“W-what’s her name?”
Sadie shrugs. “Heck if I know. Apparently, he’s keeping it all pretty tight-lipped. You know how Milo is, always keeps shit close to the vest.”
What in the ever-loving-fuck?
“Do not read into that,” Lena whispers toward me. “Actually, it’s best if you act like it was never said.”
“Pretty sure it’s too late for that.”
“But it’s hearsay, and for all you know, Evan’s suspicions are related to you,” she adds quietly, and I scrunch up my nose. “Girl, before shit went down last week, Milo was spending a whole lot of time with you. I find it hard to believe that workaholic even had the time to fit in another woman. Or that he even wanted to.”
“But there is yet to be a confirmed girlfriend, right?” Jessica beats a dead horse with her horny, Milo-craving vagina.
Sadie just laughs. “All I’m saying is don’t get your hopes up, sweetie. Evan is pretty damn certain something is up. Hell, when he was on the phone with Ev the other night, Cap even mentioned he actually saw Milo out a few weeks ago at a party. A socialite’s party, at that.”
“So?” Jessica questions. Pow-pow, the horse is dead again. “That doesn’t mean anything.”
“If you know Milo, you’d know he’d never be caught dead at something like that. Hell, when he found out Page Six named him one of New York’s Most Eligible Bachelors, he was the opposite of happy. He’s, like, averse to that kind of attention and the people who draw it.”
At that point, the conversation becomes too much. The constant ache in my abdomen turns to a throb, and I excuse myself from the table to head to the bathroom.
And once I step inside the cold, red-and-green décor of the restroom, I lock myself in one of the stalls and try to catch my breath.
Jesus. I’m so confused.
Before I can stop myself, I pull out my phone and look at the last text Milo sent.
One week ago.
Milo: I heard you got the job at Beacon. I’m proud of you, kid. You deserve it. You deserve everything you want and more.
I never responded.
I wanted to respond so many times, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.
Not after how things ended that night at my apartment.
Is there more to this than I realized?
God, don’t be stupid, Maybe. Don’t be some stupid, hopeful romantic who can’t distinguish reality from fantasy
Just because I’m still in love with him doesn’t mean I should put myself through any more pain. And it sure as shit doesn’t mean I should talk myself into being hopeful when there is literally no hope to be found.
All of that hope was already snuffed out with two fucking words—I can’t.
Milo
It is July 13th. Evan and Sadie’s wedding day.
The day my best friend will say “I do.”
The morning was spent fitting in a round of golf with Ev and the rest of the groomsmen. And the afternoon flew by as we checked in to the W Hotel in Union Square and got ready in the rooms we booked for the afternoon.
We’re wearing black, fitted tuxes with white dress shirts and black bow ties; Sadie has chosen a simple yet classic style to signify her wedding. Personally, I’m thankful and not opposed in the slightest.
And once the clock strikes five, all of us men offer Evan good luck and early congratulations and head downstairs for the six o’clock ceremony.
I ride in the elevator with the rest of the group, but I take a quick detour once we reach the first floor. Stopping in the lobby, I say hello to my cousin Emory—my date for the evening. She’s all smiles and chatting up a storm, alternating between thanking me for letting her crash the wedding and letting me know how much she needed this night out.
“Seriously, Milo,” she says. “This wedding is a godsend.”
Just over two months after having her daughter, Hudson, it’s more than apparent that a night to herself was in dire demand for my favorite cousin. Even her husband Quince was on board with the plan, going above and beyond to make sure Em didn’t have to worry about anything besides enjoying herself.
“I’m glad you came,” I respond with a smile. “Well, let me rephrase, I’m glad you made me invite you and that you went ahead and accepted the forced invite.”
“Shut up.” She smacks me on the shoulder on a laugh. “And you’re welcome.”
All is going well until I spot the bride and her wedding party filing into the hotel lobby.
To be specific, all is going well until I spot Maybe.
Her long locks are up in a sleek and sophisticated bun, elongating the beautiful lines of her neck. Her dress is a pale pink and only seems to flatter and accentuate her curves. And a pretty bouquet of white flowers sits inside the grasp of her fingers.
She looks…stunning. But, to me, she always looks stunning.
She meets my eyes from across the expansive lobby, and it takes no time at all before she averts her gaze and looks at anything and everything but me.
I don’t know what’s worse. Whether she can’t look at me, or that she just refuses to.
Both options make me cringe.
“Well, I guess I better get inside so you can go back with the bridal party,” Emory says, pulling my attention back to her. “See you after the ceremony?”
“Definitely.” I nod and step forward to give her a gentle hug. “And thanks again for coming.”
She grins up at me. “See, I knew you’d eventually be grateful I invited myself.”
A soft chuckle leaves my lips. “Whatever makes you feel better, cuz.”
Em discreetly flips me the bird before turning on her heels and heading into the main entrance of the ballroom where the ceremony is being held.
And I resign myself to my fate. Walking Maybe down the aisle at my best friend’s—her brother’s—wedding.
Talk about a fucking mouthful.
When I reach the rest of the wedding party in a hidden corridor away from the main entrance, Margo—the wedding planner—waves me toward her. “I need the best man right here!” she exclaims and just kind of bounces around on her heels. “Two minutes, people! I repeat, we have two minutes before we begin!”
Damn, this woman is either incredibly excitable or mainlined Red Bull before she started her day.
In an attempt to not excite her further, I follow her instructions and stand where she tells me,
behind the rest of the bridesmaids and groomsmen, and right beside Maybe.
The very same Maybe who refuses even to glance in my direction.
It’s misery served straight up, without a chaser. And it’s as if the universe is saying “Fuck you, Milo” for being such a bastard. Between not telling Evan what was really going on between Maybe and me and handling that night at her apartment all wrong, I can’t deny I deserve it.
Of course, the stunning woman beside me continues to ignore my existence, staring down at her shoes as if they have the power to teleport her somewhere far away from me.
Margo starts pacing, and the sounds of soft, rhythmic, and very familiar wedding music starts to seep out through the closed doors. “Okay! Okay!” she exclaims and waves her clipboard in the air. “It’s time, people! I repeat, it’s time!”
I’m starting to fear that the wedding planner might not make it through the evening without succumbing to a mental breakdown.
The doors open, and two-by-two, each pair of the wedding party begins their walk down the aisle.
Of course, Margo is there, giving each member of the wedding party one last once-over before she lets them go through the doors. She is the mother hen of weddings, adjusting ties, fixing bouquets, doing anything and everything she can to make sure the event is perfection.
When there’s only one couple ahead of us, I don’t hesitate to reach out and gently lock Maybe’s arm within mine.
She startles at first, but I don’t miss the way her eyes glance down at where we’re connected. A little crinkle forms between her brows, and it takes everything inside me not to tell her everything that’s on my mind.
I miss you, kid. Goddammit, I miss you.
Her big brown eyes look up at me, and my heart migrates into my throat.
She doesn’t say anything, but I get the sense she wants to.
You can tell me anything. Say anything. For fuck’s sake, just tell me something.
Her mouth opens and closes once, twice, and a third time, but before words ever come out, crazy Margo gives us the cue to start walking.
We make it halfway down the aisle, and I can’t stop myself from telling Maybe the one thing I’ve wanted to say since I saw her in the lobby. “You look beautiful, kid. So damn beautiful.”
To anyone else, my words can’t be heard over the music, but I know she heard them.
Maybe doesn’t respond, but out of the corner of my eye, I don’t miss the way her throat bobs as she swallows hard against whatever emotion is inside her throat.
When we reach the end of the aisle, I have to let her go.
Without looking back, she moves away from me to stand near the other bridesmaids.
It stings like a bitch.
But I force a smile to my lips as I stand beside Evan and the rest of the groomsmen.
When the “Bridal Chorus” begins to play and everyone rises to their feet, all eyes move to the beautiful bride walking down the aisle.
All eyes except for mine.
Mine stay on Maybe the entire time.
Fuck. I wish I could know what she was thinking.
I wish I could take back that night and have a do-over.
But mostly, I just wish she were mine.
Maybe
My favorite David Gray song, “Sail Away,” plays from the speakers inside the ballroom. I stand a few feet from the dance floor, a barely touched glass of wine in my hand, and watch as my brother smiles down at his wife, swaying gently with her to the music.
That�
��s right. Evan is officially married.
And damn, I’ve never seen my brother look so happy. So in love.
My heart is confused as I watch them. It wants to soar, but at the same time, it twists and turns inside my chest. Discomfort still there. A stark, unavoidable reminder of him.
I can’t stop my eyes from searching the room, taking inventory of all the familiar faces.
Until they stop on the one person they were looking for the entire time.
Milo.
He is on the other side of the dance floor, a gorgeous woman standing beside him. Together, they watch the happy couple enjoy their first dance as husband and wife.
He brought a fucking date.
He brought a beautiful woman to my brother’s wedding, and I get to play the part of the solo bridesmaid with a broken heart.
Thanks a lot, you asshole.
The pain in my chest moves to my stomach and seems to set up shop on the right side of my abdomen again, throbbing and aching and annoying the hell out of me.
I attempt to wash it away with a drink of wine, but when I lift the glass to my lips and the first tiny drop hits my tongue, nausea decides to join the party.
I roll my eyes and set my glass of wine down on an empty table.
Jesus. Can’t anything go right tonight?
The DJ encourages everyone to join the bride and groom on the dance floor, to share in the end of their first dance, and just before I can go back to my seat, a hand gently touches my shoulder.
I turn to find one of Evan’s friends, Caplin Hawkins, standing there and grinning down at me.
“Can I interest you in a dance?”
“Uh…yeah…sure.” I mean, why the fuck not? It’s not like I’m here with anyone.
He leads me out onto the dance floor, and despite his reputation for being a bit of a playboy, he appears content with keeping things very PG between us. A chaste number of inches separates our chests, and his hands never veer away from my waist.
“You doing okay, sweetheart?”
“Uh…yeah.” I furrow my brow and lift my eyes to his. “It’s a happy day. I mean, I have every reason to be nothing but okay.”