Page 67 of Best Man Speaking
The slightest of trembles makes its way into my hands as I reach for peonies at a local florist. The open front at Posey’s means it’s bright and full of fresh air, making it easy to concentrate on long breaths as I will steadiness into my limbs, for calmness to course through me. The breathing helps, but my fingers still shake; they’d been doing so on and off since I’d ended the call with Gwen.
My decision was made. It’d been that simple, and the guilt is eating me alive. It’s what had me here in the first place, picking out an arrangement of pink flowers, readying myself for a visit I should’ve made as soon as I’d arrived back in town.
It’s also likely why I only notice the text notification on my phone’s screen as I go to pay. I wait for the woman serving me to start working on the arrangement before I open it.
Marcus:What are you doing?
I could leave the message unanswered, could continue on with my afternoon alone as planned, letting my latest life choice sink in.
But I don’t.
Instead, I reach for the lightness I know he can make me feel.
Hallie:Not you.
Marcus:Obviously. If you were doing me, your hands would be otherwise occupied.
Hallie:
Marcus:Really. What are you up to?
When I go to reply this time, my hands are steady.
Hallie:Picking up flowers.
Marcus:Well, that’s sweet of you. I’ve never had a woman buy me flowers before.
I smile to myself, wondering what his face would look like if I bought him a bunch of flowers. Probably terrified and wholly unsure of what to do with them.
Hallie:Smart ass. I’m going to visit Gran’s grave.
I keep my phone in hand as I make my way back to my car, flowers now clutched in the other. I’m not sure what I expected to get in response, but when his reply comes through, I pause on the pavement. The sun’s out in force, warm on my shoulders, and with enough of a glare that my sunglasses aren’t cutting itfor me to clearly see the screen. I have to shade it with my hand to make sure I’ve understood him correctly.
Marcus:Want some company?
I could be a smart-ass and ask which of his apprentices he plans on sending, but instead, I check the time. And then I send through my reply, taking my second risk of the day.
Hallie:3 p.m. work for you?
Marcus:I’ll see you there.
In all honesty, I hadn’t thought it through the drive to the cemetery. Different year, different day, different car, same me. The same me that’d once driven to this cemetery in the hope of seeing Marcus, believing I’d had his love and support. That on a difficult day, he’d be there for me.
Today’s different. I know I might not have his love, but after the last few weeks, I hope I have his support. That he’ll keep his word and be here. But the old worries still plague me.
That he won’t show.
That everything I’ve let myself do and feel and be with him means nothing.
That I’ve been mistaken again.
It doesn’t help that I’m the first to arrive, my palms damp on the steering wheel as I turn into the driveway a few minutes early. The chapel’s been done up a little since I was last here; most notably, the parking lot’s been cemented, no longer a simple gravel lot. But it’s still very much empty. Where the last time I had Jules waiting for me, this time, I’m set to wait alone. Nothing but me and the budding trust that’s been buildingbetween Marcus and myself. A budding trust I’m trying so very hard not to doubt.
I remind myself I’m mostly a mess over approving the sale of Gran’s house, and my insecurities are my own. That since arriving here, Marcus hasn’t given me a single reason to doubt him.
I check my emails and reply to a few texts from Cade, pictures of a sad-looking Loki lying on the mat outside my apartment door. My heart squeezes, knowing I have a call to make there too.
It’d come to me when I’d spoken with Erica earlier. While I wanted something that was mine, I didn’t have to make every decision right now. The money I’d get from the sale would give me the ability to take my time. I didn’t have to be stubborn and stick to the plan I’d laid out for myself months ago; I could relinquish a tiny bit of control. It’d mean not buying my apartment in Edinburgh straightaway, potentially even mean giving it up altogether, letting another place I’d called home go.
