The Duets

by Quinn, Meghan

  The reverend smiles at Bryan and then says, “It is my pleasure to introduce, for the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Stryder Sheppard. You may kiss the bride.”

  Not wasting any time, Stryder wraps his hand around Rory’s neck and brings her lips to his. The crowd cheers, I clap, and when they turn toward the crowd, they excitingly hold their clasped hands in the air as they walk down the aisle to a classic Creedence Clearwater Revival song, Proud Mary. Must have been Bryan’s choice. I smile to myself, and when it’s my turn to walk down the aisle, I move to the middle where I offer my arm to Ryan, Rory’s best friend.

  She glances up at me, a smile on her lips.

  “Well, well, well, we finally get a moment alone. Beautiful ceremony, wouldn’t you agree?” She’s always been outspoken, fun, and the life of the party, just like Stryder.

  “Yeah.” I bite the inside of my cheek and then say, “Never got that text.”

  In a very dark moment, when I was drowning my sorrows at a bar learning to let go of Rory, I ran into Ryan. I was drunk enough to feel wobbly in the legs, but not too drunk to notice when someone was in trouble. The guy she was with was acting aggressively toward her, so I stepped up, and insinuated she was with me. The guy backed off and Ryan thanked me for the help by taking my number and promising me dinner. I was on temporary duty in Colorado Springs at the time, so a home-cooked meal would have been nice . . . even if it was from Ryan . . . who’s a hot mess in the kitchen.

  But I never got that text.

  I shrugged it off, not really caring since I was never really friends with Ryan. But now that she’s here, hanging on my arm, I have no qualms in calling her out, especially since we’ll be spending the next hour taking pictures together with Stryder and Rory.

  “Just jumping right in with that?”

  I shrug.

  “Ah, see that you’re still the silent type. Maybe that’s why I didn’t text you, because I didn’t want to spend the night talking to myself.”

  We follow Rory, Stryder, and the photographer to the back of the venue with Rory’s parents and Bryan. Together as a family, they start taking pictures, leaving Ryan and me off to the side.

  “I would have talked.”

  She steps away but keeps her eyes trained on me, giving me a once-over. Last time I saw her, her hair was brown, but now it’s back to its original blonde, long and twisted low at the nape of her neck in a bun with a few strands casually framing her heart-shaped face.

  Her hands rest on her hips, the navy-blue Grecian-style dress draped down the length of her body, a small slit on the side that barely reaches her knee. “You’re really fixated on this, aren’t you?”

  “Nah, didn’t care too much. A homemade dinner would have been nice, though.”

  “I can’t cook.”

  “Neither can I,” I answer honestly. I either eat out, or I make myself scrambled eggs, and that’s about it. Rory taught me how to make meatballs once but hell if I can remember how to do that. All I know is I enjoyed crushing the beef between my fingers. I get by with limited knowledge in the kitchen.

  She chuckles. “Well, aren’t we a pair?” She turns to watch Stryder and Rory together. Apparently not giving a shit about the even bigger elephant in the room, Ryan asks, “Is this weird for you?”

  “I have a flask in my jacket pocket, so you tell me.”

  She lifts her bouquet and pulls out a mini bottle of alcohol. She wiggles her eyebrows at me. “Thought maybe we’d both need this since we have to sit through having all these pictures taken with them.”

  “Smirnoff? That’s what you brought with you?”

  “It was all I had. Don’t judge me.”

  “I’m judging.”

  Playfully she whacks my arm. “You shouldn’t be judging me. It was innovative. I carved out a little space in my bouquet for this bottle. If anything, you should congratulate me on this genius idea.”

  “Was it your idea?”

  “I mean”—she toes the ground—“I might have seen the idea on Pinterest along with a recipe for beer cookies that tasted like vomit.”

  “Beer cookies?” I shake my head and take the little bottle from her. Twist the cap, tilt the bottle back, and swig. I hand it back to her, leaving half the bottle. “Even I know better than to think beer cookies would taste good.”

  “They were for a boyfriend I was trying to impress.”

  “Impress or poison?”

  “Impress.” She laughs. “Although after our breakup, I should probably say poison. Teach all future suitors: if you mess with me, you get poisoned.”

  “It’d keep me away, that’s for damn sure.”

  She finishes the rest of the little bottle and returns it to her bouquet. She pats it and says, “I can recycle it later.”

  “Get drunk and save the earth. Sounds like a good combination to me.”

  “Ryan and Colby, can we get you over here for a few pictures?” the photographer calls out.

  “That’s our cue.” Ryan pokes my cheek with her index finger, looking sincerely at me. “Don’t forget to smile, because these pictures will last forever.”

  “Scowling not in the job description of best man?”

  As we walk over, she says, “I would normally say no, but given the bride is your ex-girlfriend, one scowl is allowed.”

  “One scowl? Damn, better make it a good one.”

  * * *

  “I’m not doing anything stupid.”

  “Come on.” Ryan pulls on my arm. “We have to.”

  “We really don’t.”

  Groaning, Ryan turns behind us to Rory and Stryder. “What are you two doing?”

  “It’s a surprise.” Rory beams.

  “Oh my God, did you choreograph something?”

  “No,” Stryder says quickly.

  Rory bounces in her heels. “Sort of.” Stryder rolls his eyes.

  I give my friend a pointed look. “Come on, man. What the hell?”

  Stryder shrugs his shoulders. “I mean . . . she said yes to marrying me, so I’d pretty much do anything at that point. It’s nothing super special, and we met in the middle when it came to choreography. At first, she wanted us to have an entire dance production when we were called into the reception, which included you doing a variation of the worm.”

  This time, I stare Rory down. She casually shrugs. “What? It would have been fun.”

  “Just be glad I was able to nix that idea.” Stryder pats me on the back.

  “But you guys are doing something special?” Ryan cuts in. From the way she looks so jittery, I can tell she’s getting anxious.

  “Yeah, I mean, it’s tradition, right? Whenever the bridal party is introduced during the reception, you have to do some fun dance move.”

  “Not necessarily. You can just walk onto the dance floor. Wave. That’s it,” I say, not wanting to “dance” in front of a bunch of people I don’t know.

  “Booo.” Ryan pokes my chest. “Turn around, give me a piggy back.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Forget it.”

  She huffs. “Are you still salty about the text?”

  No. But I might have had a few shots already, and I’m feeling playful. “Maybe.”

  She dramatically rolls her eyes and thumbs in my direction. “This guy,” she says to Stryder and Rory, “came barreling in like a knight in shining armor, scared my date away with his Air Force friends, and then held it over my head as if he gave me the best orgasm of my life and I never repaid him.”

  “Not cool, dude.” Stryder shakes his head.

  “Wait, you two hooked up?” Rory asks, looking maybe a little too excited.

  “No,” I answer curtly.

  “Ha, no, we did not hook up.” She grips my shoulder. “Hooking up with this ice cube? Impossible.”

  * * *

  “You know we’re sitting next to each other at the table too, so you’re going to have to talk to me again at some point.”

  I hold on to her tightly, my hand on her trim waist, the other
hand holding hers as we sway back and forth on the dance floor, Rory and Stryder next to us, Rory’s parents off to the side as well.

  “We had to do something,” Ryan continues. “Everyone expects it, and since you wouldn’t agree on anything, I had to go rogue.” She pauses and then says, “Basically what this comes down to is you being stubborn so you only have yourself to blame. When you push me to the point of having to go rogue, that’s on you, pal.”

  I stay silent, my eyes starting to play tricks on me with the lights above.

  “You can’t be mad at me.”

  Maybe I can a little. Nah . . . I can’t be mad. Irritated, just a tad.

  “Hello, anyone in there?” Ryan asks, tapping on my head with her index finger. “I know there is a voice box inside this”—she grips my sturdy body—“in this massive body. What do you bench? Ninety-five pounds?”

  My brow pinches together as I pull away to look her in the eyes. Is she serious? “What? No. I bench two-eighty.”

  Knowingly, she points her finger at me, a smile playing on her lips. “Ha, I knew I could get you to talk to me again.”

  Christ.

  I roll my eyes and move back into position, slowly moving us around the dance floor.

  “Come on, it wasn’t a bad entrance.”

  “You pretended your bouquet was a penis and tried to penetrate me.”

  She covers her mouth and snorts, leaning her head into my chest, still finding the damn entrance funny.

  “I’m sorry. But I can’t get the look on your face from the first bouquet probe out of my head.” She laughs some more, her shoulders shaking in my hold.

  “Laugh it up, Ryan,” I mumble.

  “You were so surprised. Straight-up O face. And how you swatted me away . . . classic.” More chuckling.

  “Are you done?”

  She shakes her head. “Nope, that image is going to last me a while. Sorry, bud.”

  Great.

  * * *

  “How’s the steak?” Ryan asks, mouth full of the vegetarian option, some kind of lasagna with carrots and spinach.

  “Good,” I answer, cutting into the soft-as-hell meat. Straight-up best steak I’ve ever had.

  Reaching around my arm, she sticks her fork into the piece of steak I just cut and plops it in her mouth.

  Uh, excuse me?

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “Sampling.” She takes a bite of my mashed potatoes. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

  I push her fork away when she reaches in for another bite. “You can’t just take people’s food without asking. Where are your manners?”

  “We’re friends, it’s allowed. Questions not necessary.”

  “Says who?” I ask, swatting her away again and bringing my plate to the side, out of her reach.

  “Says all the friend rule books. Come on, you can have some of this delicious lasagna.” She pushes her plate toward me.

  “It looks like lasagna soup.” The Italian dish is oozing all over her plate, a soupy-like base providing coverage at the bottom.

  She scoops up some of the sauce and it falls right through the tines of her fork. “Yeah, I don’t think they let this thing rest very long. That’s why you should really share your steak with me. You don’t want me passing out during my speech, do you?”

  God, the fucking speeches. I’m all for being there for Stryder, but having to come up with a speech has been absolute torture. I hate talking in front of people.

  The guys on my squadron gave me some very good advice.

  Get drunk.

  Tell Stryder you love him. And say here’s to the bride and groom.

  Simple.

  And that’s exactly what I plan on doing.

  “Colby, please.” Ryan bats her ridiculously long eyelashes at me.

  “No. Chew on your soup.”

  She huffs. “And here I thought you were in the Air Force to protect and serve.” She pokes me in the arm. “Protect me from this lasagna and serve me up your steak.”

  I chew on my steak, trying to hold back the smile pulling at my lips. I swallow hard and say, “It’s serve and protect, not protect and serve.”

  “Ohhhh nooo, you’re not getting out of this on a technicality.” She points to her mouth with her fork. “Right there, shoot it right down the gullet. Let’s go, Brooks.”

  This woman. I swear to God I’m not going to make it through the night without killing her.

  * * *

  “Do you want another drink?” Ryan asks. I eye my empty glass of rum and Coke and nod. Steak and mashed potatoes have been consumed, and we’re waiting on the DJ to hand over the mic.

  “Yeah, I’m going to get one.” I’m not even feeling a buzz. Clearly I didn’t do a good enough job getting drunk for these speeches. “Can I get you anything?”

  “I’ll go with you.” Ryan pushes her chair back, and I offer my hand to help her up before I get up myself. “Thank you.” She winks. “Such a gentleman.”

  I push my seat in and look around the room. It’s a small wedding, since Stryder’s family isn’t in attendance, but it’s nice not being surrounded by a lot of people who you don’t know, especially when I have to make a speech soon.

  Stryder and Rory are talking to the guests around the barn-style-decorated reception hall, thanking everyone for attending, looking so goddamn in love that it’s hard to not be happy for them, even when I’m carrying maybe a one percent amount of bitter in my heart.

  Just one percent. I think I’m allowed that. It doesn’t eclipse my happiness for them, but it is a reminder that I’m a lonely motherfucker.

  “You know, that scowl makes you look jealous.”

  Am I scowling? Shit.

  “Have a headache.”

  Ryan sees right through me and pokes me in the side. “Liar. Don’t worry, we’re about to do a few shots to get you through this next part of the night, and then it’s dancing time until we feed each other cake.”

  She twirls, extending her arms out and taking in the empty dance floor. Wisps of her blonde hair float around her face as she smiles back at me. She has such a carefree spirit. It’s like there isn’t a worry or care in her life. And I envy that. Don’t ever remember a time where I felt that.

  My mind focuses on what she said as we reach the bar and she orders four shots of whiskey. “I’m not dancing. And I’m not sure if you’ve forgotten, but we’re not the bride and groom, so we don’t feed each other cake.”

  She hands me a shot and clinks our glasses together, quickly downing the amber liquid. With a lift of her finger, she encourages me to take my shot. “Oh, you’re dancing, trust me on that. And if dessert was anything like dinner, you’ll be feeding me cake.”

  I take the shot and then follow up rapidly with a second only to order a rum and Coke and take it to our seats.

  “Are you nervous about your speech?”

  I shrug. “Not excited about it. What about you?”

  She waves at someone in the distance and takes a sip of her drink. “No, I’m just going to talk about all the pancakes we’ve consumed together and the free bacon we were able to score.”

  “Sounds like a solid speech.”

  “I think so.” She leans back in her chair and eyes me up and down. “You know, you’ve gotten bigger from when I first met you when you were at the Air Force Academy.”

  “That’s what working out will do to you,” I answer, direct and a little uncomfortable under her gaze.

  “Some might say you’re a little macho.”

  That makes me snort. I’m anything but macho. I might have about thirty more pounds of muscle on me, but there are guys in the Air Force much bigger than I am. Granted, they don’t fly fighters. You have to be able to fit in the cockpit to fly.

  “Are you trying to make me uncomfortable?”

  “Am I taking your mind off the speech?”

  Damn it, she is.

  I don’t answer her and instead, sip from my drink, causi
ng her to laugh and push my leg. “God, you are so stubborn. Just admit it, I’m distracting you.”

  “Unfortunately, you are and not to my liking.”

  “But I’m growing on you.” She wiggles her eyebrows.

  I pass my hand over my face and let out a heavy sigh. “When I signed up for this best man gig, I never considered I’d have to hang out with you all night.”

  “And look how lucky you are.” She winks and takes another sip.

  Lucky. “Yeah, that’s one way to describe it.”

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  RYAN

  Have you ever seen a car accident on the side of the road and thought, I really should look away, but I can’t? You try desperately to avoid the accident but no matter how hard you try, your eyes are fixated on it. So morbid of humans, right?

  That’s how I feel right now as Colby stands to take the mic from the DJ who just took it from me. My speech went swimmingly. Made people laugh when I talked about sharing custody of Stryder at one point, when he was living between Rory’s and my place. I made Rory cry when I talked about her being the sister I never had, and wrapped it up with a sweet little gift, a framed picture of an animated pancake to remind Rory that no matter what happens, I’m always here to share pancakes with.

  It was fantastic.

  Totally killed it.

  And now it’s Colby’s turn.

  He shifts back and forth. Clears his throat. Grips his tumbler incredibly hard as he stares at the ground.

  I wait, holding my breath, hoping and praying this goes well for him.

  I know he’s happy for Stryder and Rory, it’s obvious from the wonderful, brotherly relationship he shares with Stryder, but it’s still got to be awkward. Rory was his girlfriend, the girl he thought he was going to marry one day. It can’t be easy standing up there.

  And I am going to reward him for having the decency . . . and balls . . . for doing this. I have plans for both of us after speeches, involving the bar and the dance floor, with a touch of cake later.