Page 6 of The Wedding Favor

I hadn’t been lying when I said that Abe’s reputation preceded him. He was part prodigal’s son and part urban legend around Two Harts. When he moved back two months ago, the gossip had moved into overdrive.

“Where’s he been all these years?”

“Is he back for good now?”

“What are those holes in his ears?”

Abe seemed to be taking it all in stride and given enough time, a good five to seven years, the town would warm up to him. He was so totally different from anyone in Two Harts. And that did make him the perfect date to Aidan’s wedding, the perfect foil to Aidan’s starched appearance.

I frowned as a thought occurred. “Do you think Abe even owns a suit?”

The jar rocked as I drove down the state highway toward the double-wide trailer that I’d called home my whole life. It was almost nine at night, but the sun had just kissed the horizon, leaving the sky awash with brilliant pinks and oranges.

After my encounter with Abe, I’d braved the party again, trying in vain to pretend I didn’t know where Aidan was every second. And trying to forget that wherever Aidan was, so was Missy. How were they getting married in just a month’s time?

They’d only met six months ago. She was the niece of one of the partners at the accounting firm Aidan worked at and he’d asked Aidan to do him a favor. It was supposed to be one date to earn some points with the boss. Except one date led to another and another. I’d heard all the details on my late-night phone calls with Aidan or from the rambling voice notes he sent. After all, Aidan was my closest friend. Of course, he would tell me. So what if he happened to be my former boyfriend… who I was maybe, still, sort of in love with. I think.

When he told me he was proposing, it had felt like he’d taken my heart and stomped on it. Now the pieces jangled around in my chest, always hopeful he’d one day realize the mistake he’d made and come crawling back to me.

Between Aidan and the people and the karaoke, my mom must have sensed my strong desire to leave the party. It could also have been because I cornered her and said, “I need to leave this party.” She helped me sneak out but stayed to help with the clean-up.

“This wedding is going to be the worst, isn’t it?” I glanced at the pickles. “I have to smile and nod and stand up next to Aidan while he marries someone else. Easy, right?”

But even the thought of going to their wedding made my palms sweat and my chest tighten and yet, I hadn’t just said yes when Aidan asked me to be his best woman, I’d said yes with enthusiasm. I gushed with excitement. I hugged Missy and Aidan like I’d never hugged people before in my life.

My lying skills were supernatural. My sense of self-preservation? Non-existent.

“Maybe it won’t be so bad?” I snorted. “Who am I kidding? It’s going to suck. That was supposed to be me, you know. I’m the one who should be marrying him.”

Not to sound too dramatic, but our break-up three years ago had been soul crushing. On my part, at least. We’d met when he’d moved to Two Harts after getting expelled from high school senior year for hacking into the school grading system and changing the grades of a bunch of school athletes who’d been cheating on tests. Even his rebellious acts were for the good.

He’d done his required community service hours at the Two Harts library where Mae was the head librarian. She’d quickly caught on that he was not a future felon and that he was good at math, a class that I was failing miserably.

Those tutoring sessions had been when my teenage heart had fallen for him. He’d talk about equations and factors and volume and I wouldn’t hear a word of it, as I was too busy waxing poetically about him in my mind. Back then, he’d been a little shy, quiet, clean cut—he’d worn khakis regularly. To school. While I was that girl who dressed in black band t-shirts, and actively worked to seem disinterested in everything. We’d been opposites but, somehow, we’d fit. For a girl whose deadbeat dad had a criminal record a mile long and more friends in prison than out, Aidan’s good guy qualities had been like a salve to that wound.

He’d been my first for so many things—first kiss, first boyfriend, first love. That last Christmas we were together, he’d given me a promise ring, a promise to one day ask me to be his wife. We were only twenty and still had a couple of years of school left, but I knew he was it for me. Hours were spent talking about graduation, future careers, the wedding. Aidan, being the planner that he was, had even created a Five-Year Plan (with a PowerPoint). I’d loved it. Loved that I knew the future and that that future was Aidan. It had all seemed perfect.

Except Aidan had wanted to change the plan.

That spring, Aidan transferred to a university in west Texas and I stayed in Two Harts, commuting to Houston for school. A mere five hundred miles separated us (’cause everything is bigger in Texas, including the actual state).

It started out as small, little hints about speeding up our plans. He complained about how much he missed me. “If we were married, you could move here with me.”

He knew there was no way I wanted to leave Two Harts. It was in the Five-Year Plan. After college, we’d get married and save up for a down payment on a home here in town. We’d be close enough to Houston to commute for work if we needed.

Soon the hints became demands. Aidan was used to getting his way. In hindsight, I could see that now. I was always the one that compromised. After all, Aidan was a good, smart, responsible guy who made good, smart, responsible decisions. Why would I ever argue with him? But, for perhaps the first time in our relationship, I refused to budge on this.

Then the ultimatum. Aidan surprised me one day, showing up at the Sit-n-Eat one normal Tuesday afternoon in June. It had been almost two months since we’d seen each other face to face. Despite our efforts to visit more frequently, an eight-hour drive one way was nearly impossible between school and work.

I’d been so excited to see him. I got off work early and we drove to our favorite restaurant for an early dinner. There, at a quiet table tucked in the corner, Aidan laid out his new five-year plan; it did not include me.

He wasn’t cruel about it, just calmly explained that we were going in different directions. He wanted to settle down now, I wanted to wait. A sensible explanation. I imagined him sitting down and writing a pros and cons list called DO I BREAK UP WITH IRIS?

My hands on the table were shaking and he covered them with his own. “Our relationship will just be different,” he’d said.

It had been one of the few times in my life I was speechless. I didn’t yell or scream or argue or even beg. I didn’t tell him that I didn’t want to be his best friend or that I loved him or that he’d just ripped my heart out. Instead, I sat there shellshocked and numb.

“You’ll always be one of my best friends,” he’d said.