by Nicky James
“Can’t I change my mind?”
“That’s not like you, parce. We’ve been friends forever. We knew after that blow up that if we wanted to stay friends, then we needed to keep our families out of it. After ten fucking years, you want to announce that we still hang out? There has to be a reason. My feelings aren’t butthurt over not going to your wedding, so what gives?”
Phoenix’s face twisted in anger, but it wasn’t directed at me, it was directed at whatever thought crossed his mind. He slammed his beer down on the coffee table and clenched a fist once before falling back on the couch and scrubbing at his face.
“All right, fine, listen. Arden’s a fucking little dickhead. He saw you the other day, and you told him we still hang out. He didn’t know that. None of my family do. Apparently, the little shit has been crushing on you since we were in high school and decided now was the perfect time to let me know.” He held his hands up, placating. “I’m sorry, man. I had no fucking idea. Believe me.”
My skin prickled and tingled. I wasn’t sure what to say to that revelation, so I remained silent with my jaw slightly unhinged as Phoenix continued.
“He basically blackmailed me. Said if you don’t get invited to the wedding, he’s gonna rat to Mom and Dad that Carrie and I have been practically living together for three years. You know the lengths I’ve gone to keeping that shit off their radar. I’ve played the good Catholic boy to death. I’m two weeks from freedom. Two fucking weeks. Please help me.”
“He’s yanking your chain. Why would he do that?”
“You don’t know Arden. He’s not a little kid anymore.” Don’t I know it. “He’s a manipulative little punk. Ever since Ivory died, he’s been fucked up. He plays my parents like puppets. He knows how to garner all their attention and sympathies. He takes everything to the nth degree. Nothing is ever his fault. Everything has an excuse. Fuck, being gay hasn’t been his fault. No, they didn’t disown him like the church wanted, but they’ve been forming prayer groups to pray the evil away. They are convinced he will come around eventually. If he rats on me. I can’t even…”
My stomach twisted. “Man, I want nothing to do with your family, mi amigo. I don’t even know how you can ask this of me. After what they put me through. Listen to yourself. Tell your brother you asked and I said no. End of story.”
But Arden was gay? The warmth seeping through my body completely contradicted my words. The truth was, I wouldn’t mind seeing him again. Talking to him…
But, no! Was I an idiot?
“Iggy, please come. As many bad things as I can say about my brother, he’s right. My parents won’t say shit. I’ve wanted you at my wedding from day one. You should have been my best man. I know we agreed it was best to let it ride, but… you’re my best friend. I think I’ll regret it if you don’t come.”
I blew out a breath and closed my eyes, my chest tightening like it had earlier. It would crush me watching all those eyes dissecting and judging me, seeing their hatred, but I’d never been good at disappointing people I cared about.
“Are you begging me because you are scared your little brother will rat you out or do you truly want me there?”
Phoenix sighed. “I’ve wanted you there since day one, but I was trying to protect you from the bullshit. But I’m begging because I don’t want to be shunned from the family.”
I studied Phoenix, knowing he’d hated what happened ten years ago. When he’d announced he was getting married, it’d been a sad conversation when we’d decided it was best I didn’t go.
Maybe it would be busy enough my presence would go unnoticed. Maybe.
Ignoring the niggling warmth in my chest, reminding me that it would also mean seeing Arden, I ducked my head and sighed.
“Fine. I’ll go for you because I love you, but if one person says anything discriminating—”
“They won’t dare.”
“You gonna warn people I’m coming?”
“Not sure I should.”
“Yeah, I agree.”
“You’ll come?”
“All right.”
Phoenix looped an arm around my neck and yanked me to his chest in a bear hug. “I love you, man. This means a lot to me.”
“Yeah, yeah. You owe me. Huge. If it’s not a free bar, you’re picking up my tab because I will probably need a few drinks to make it through the night.”
“Done.”
He released me, and we both found our beers.
“Do me a favor?” Phoenix asked once he set his drink down again.
“Another one? Isn’t sacrificing myself to your family enough? You want my blood too? My firstborn?”
He chuckled. “No, nothing like that.” Phoenix sobered and met my gaze looking more serious than I’d seen him in a long time. “Stay far away from Arden. He’s bad news. I don’t trust him.”
I laughed. “You're funny. Like I’d want anything to do with your kid brother. Plus, dating a McMillan would be suicide.”
Too bad the butterflies swarming my belly disagreed.
Chapter Five
Iggy
I should never have agreed to this.
I knew the minute I woke that morning that my future would be an imminent disaster.
Staring at my reflection, fixing the tie that had once belonged to my father, I rehearsed all the comebacks in my arsenal, knowing I wouldn’t say a damn thing out loud if confronted with hatred at Phoenix’s wedding.
Wearing the only suit I owned—a charcoal gray, fitted number I’d purchased for my college graduation years ago, paired with a salmon button-up and matching tie—I polished my dress shoes to a nice shine before slipping them on and checking the time.
The ceremony started in half an hour.
Double checking my appearance in the bathroom mirror, satisfied I was as presentable as I was going to get, I left the house with the promise of a throbbing headache on the horizon.
Mickey had tried talking me out of it, but my loyalty to Phoenix was unshakable. I’d promised, and even if it killed me, I was going to his wedding.
The church was a one hundred and fifty-year-old monstrosity built of old brick, standing taller than the sky itself with stained glass, cathedral windows, multiple sharp spires, and the promise of salvation within her walls.
I wasn’t without faith. I’d grown up Catholic as well, gone to the same Catholic school as Phoenix, even the same church at one time, but not anymore. My God lived inside my heart, and He wasn’t disappointed in His creation. My new church was inclusive and didn’t shun someone for the way they were born.
A grand stone stairway rose to the large wooden doors. They stood open on this spring day, letting in wedding goers for the coming celebration.
Alone, hoping to blend with the crowd and stay unnoticed, I climbed the stairs, alert for familiar faces I’d gone ten years avoiding, ears perked for the imminent release of someone’s spewed hatred. My stomach knotted as I worked on fading into the background.
The air inside the church was fragranced with a hint of incense, lingering perfume from the guests who’d walked ahead of me, musty prayer books, wood polish, and flowers. The energy vibrated with expectation and joy.
It was ten to three, and the pews were filling up fast on both sides. I scanned the rows of people all dressed in their finest as I searched for the least conspicuous place to hide. Choosing an empty pew the farthest away from the front, directly adjacent the main doors, I wedged myself into a dark corner near a pillar and wiped my sweaty palms against my pressed slacks.
Jittery didn’t quite fit the situation.
Why had I agreed to this?
My heart tripped and skipped like a dying fish as I remembered with clarity every loathsome word that had destroyed my confidence as a newly out and proud man ten years ago. The same words that had lingered for years to come and made me hesitant and fearful. And there I was, keeping company with the enemy. Willingly.
“Is this the safe zone for us flammable type?”
I jerked my attention toward the voice and opened my mouth to speak but was stunned silent by the brilliant blue eyes focused on my face. A hint of humor was evident in their sheen yet only the faintest quirk appeared in one corner of his perfect, full lips.
Arden.
“It was a joke.”
Dressed in an Egyptian blue velour suit jacket—which enhanced the color of his eyes—that had gold edging and decorative buttons running up either side, a ruffle-fronted blouse framing his neck and spilling from each cuff, white slacks, and with his hair slicked back, I nearly swallowed my tongue.
His ensemble rang of 19th century royalty, or something to that effect. Like some romantic Victorian or maybe Regency style you’d see in those old movies. I couldn’t accurately date it. Abstract and outrageous, yet, as unusual as it was, the combination suited his tiny frame perfectly.
No hints of that young boy I’d known remained. He was all grown up and looked amazing in his flourishing outfit.
Apparently, blending in wasn’t on his agenda.
“Hello? Are you with me? Is this seat taken?” he asked, quirking a brow but not breaking his gaze.
“No. Ah… Rather, yes, I’m with you, but no, the seat’s not taken.” I rattled my head to align my thoughts. “You aren’t sitting with your family?”
Little Arden McMillan. Where did you go? Why did his reappearance back in my life scramble my brain and make me tongue tied and stupid? And why did I have to notice how grown up he’d become and how incredible he looked… and smelled?
Was that lavender?
Phoenix had warned me, and Arden’s sharp tongue lashed out with his opening remark, yet I couldn’t prevent the wash of heat from coating my insides.
“Do you honestly believe my family wants to be seen with me?”
Arden shuffled sideways into the pew and landed on the bench beside me, fixing his cuffs as he scanned the room like I’d been doing. He smelled of a crisp sunny day, flowers and all.
“Father Hammond may have made an exception for today’s ceremony, but let’s be realistic. He doesn’t want me in his church. I have the devil inside me, you know? We both do. Besides, you seem to have thought this through. Escape route conveniently at our back. Perfect. You can never be too safe around the staunchly religious. How are you, Iggy? Long time no see.”
Lost for words, uneasy with Arden’s sudden appearance and proximity, I shifted and resumed scanning the guests as well. He radiated a perfect mixture of confidence and obstinance. Part of me was envious.
“I’m… doing all right. How’s the head?”
“Right as rain.” He touched where his stitches once resided. “I’m glad you could make it today.”
“Well, you blackmailed your brother. What choice did I have? That was pretty low.”
“He told you?”
“Yes.”
Arden shrugged and met my gaze, his eyes lit with amusement. “Well, you know. Phoenix had it coming.”
“Oh did he? What did he do to you?”
“Please. What hasn’t he done to me? Phoenix hates me. Even a stranger can see that. Think about it. You and me, his best friend and his brother, are hiding at the back of the church while some random guy he works with gets the honor of being his best man. Says it all right there.”
“You can’t put that on him. Look at the circumstances surrounding his decision. Heavy Catholic upbringing and his best friend and brother are both gay. Our pieces didn’t fit into the puzzle. Have you met your parents? I’m not exactly on their list of favorite people.”
The light in Arden’s eyes faded as a veil of darkness rolled in, eclipsing their once brilliant blue shine. Lifting his chin, he returned his attention to the gathering crowd. Icy cold indifference replaced that cocksureness he’d come in with as his gaze settled on his mother in the first row.
It was a full minute before he spoke, his jaw tighter and his tone more clipped. “I’m sorry they treated you like shit. I had no idea that even happened until two weeks ago when I asked Phoenix why you weren’t coming to the wedding. No one deserves that.”
“It’s not your apology to make, Arden. You were little. Of course you didn’t know about it. Not many did. It was only Phoenix and me in the room when it happened.”
The simmering anger wafting off him shifted, softened to something resembling hurt. His lower lip rounded in a pout, and his shoulders drooped. Again, I couldn’t imagine how anyone with a family like his could ever feel safe coming out.
Yet, he had.
“Besides, you probably had it a lot worse than I did,” I added. “That was awfully brave coming out to your parents. I’m not sure I could have done that.”
He shrugged and the emotions that had been so clear a moment ago vanished. There was no vile anger, no raw hurt, no self-assuredness or attitude, just an empty human being. Vacant and distant.
“Timing,” he said, his voice flat. “When the world thinks you’re already broken, then it’s a usable excuse for all your wrongdoings. Coming out was surprisingly easy in comparison to—” He fell silent, not finishing his thought.
In comparison to what?
I didn’t have time to ask or explore his broken statement. The service began with a boom of pipe organs vibrating through the vaulted ceilings and echoing off the walls and stained glass windows. Arden’s gaze remained trained up front, but I got the feeling he wasn’t seeing anything.
All the guests turned to face the aisle as the wedding procession began. Everyone, except Arden. He wasn’t present at all, lost in his head somewhere far away. Oblivious.
I wanted to reach out. Touch his arm. Something. Draw him from the depths of his mind and find that sturdy, confident man again. See the light in his eyes as it shimmered with mischief.
Movement caught my eye. The wedding procession. Instead, I turned to watch like the good little sheep I was, but my attention was fixed on the man beside me. However good he looked in his frilly, vibrant ensemble, his skin was as pallid as the day he’d rode in the ambulance. Concealer couldn’t hide the dark circles beneath his eyes, nor could they make his sunken cheeks rounder. His angular cheekbones stood out the more I examined him. The man was more than just a tiny little thing. He was rail-thin, a slip of a human being which bordered unhealthy.
Phoenix didn’t talk much about his siblings, so if there was an underlying cause for Arden looking so malnourished and emaciated, I didn’t know. I wondered for a minute if this cockiness was a façade, and if deep down, living surrounded by hatred was slowly tearing him apart.
The organ kicked up just as the bride entered the top of the aisle, breaking my attention from Arden. Carrie had gone to school with us, so she wasn’t a stranger. I’d watched her and Phoenix fall in love while we were in college. Theirs was a love I dreamed of having someday. They could finish each other’s sentences and communicate with a simple glance.
Carrie’s gown was long and flowing, not overly poufy like some I’d seen, but elegant and fitted near the top, accented with lace, ribbons, and a long train.
Clutching her father’s arm, she moved down the aisle, grinning wide with eyes only for Phoenix. Phoenix couldn’t have stood taller, and the glisten in his own eyes was noticeable from the back row. They overflowed with love.
As Carrie moved down the aisle, Arden snapped out of whatever trance had taken him. He shifted, following her movement, stood on his toes and squinted at her back as she moved farther and farther away. His brows rose as he caught his bottom lip between teeth. That light in his eyes returned along with wonder and intrigue.
Once Carrie was upfront, and her father had delivered her into Phoenix’s waiting arms, Arden leaned in against my shoulder, bringing his floral, sunny scent with him as he spoke in a hushed tone by my ear. “With her figure, I’d have suggested the mermaid silhouette style gown.” His hands made the shape as he talked. “Strapless. It’s formfitting and would have looked killer with her curves. The empire is just hiding that beauty. Sure, it’s fitte
d at the top, but the flair isn’t right for her.”
He blinked a few more times as he studied Carrie before dropping to flat feet, resigned. “But what do I know, right? Nobody asked me. I just design this shit for a living. Not like I know what I’m talking about.”
I stared at his profile as he continued to glimpse the bride’s back, gaze flicking all about, eyes full of wonder. Shaking his head, he turned away, sneering at the congregation as a whole.
His caustic edge was back, and it was laced with resentment and a whole lot of hurt feelings if I was reading him right.
I didn’t comment. It sounded like a risky conversation not suited for a wedding ceremony. In the ten minutes I’d spent with Arden, I got the sense he didn’t shy away from speaking his mind. This was not the time or the place.
For the following hour, Arden and I sat in silence at the back of the church as the priest united Phoenix and Carrie in holy matrimony. It was a beautiful—if not long—ceremony. Right before the whole thing came to a close, Arden tugged my sleeve, drawing my attention.
He nodded for me to follow and slipped from the pew. I quirked a brow, and he tipped his head again, exasperation painting his features when I didn’t immediately comply.
So, I followed, unsure why I jumped so easily at his command.
Arden may have been a puzzle, but in essence, we were in this together. Two peas in a pod, stuck in a place we were only barely welcome, biting our tongues and smiling graciously even though instinct told us to run.
Once we’d cleared the front doors and descended the stone stairs to the street, Arden flipped around and scanned the church, squinting into the sunlight, craning his neck and examining the spires high above our heads.
The milky stretch of skin and prominent arch of his Adam’s apple drew my eye. The sunlight made him shine. His feathery hair glimmered, his eyes sparkled, and my breath caught in my throat as I studied him.
“Trust me,” he said, tearing me from my thoughts. “We don’t want to be caught making the procession out of the church and in line to offer well wishes to the bride and groom. My parents will be there as will Father Hammond. I assume you’d rather go unnoticed today.”