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MERCY
“Did you tell Brenna you didn’t believe first love could be forever?” I demand of Chase as soon as I spot him. He’s hovering in a corner of the large room, focused on his phone, intently tapping away at the screen.
He looks up, startled by the sound of my voice. “Huh?” Then, without registering what I’ve said, he lights up. “Signal’s back!”
An hour ago, I would have considered this to be significant news, mostly because I still haven’t been able to get in touch with Tyler, my assistant, and I may or may not still have a job, but now, I couldn’t care less. “Did you tell Brenna you didn’t believe in first love?” I repeat my question, coming to a stop in front of him, arms crossed over my chest, chin jutted out because it helps me stay anchored into my anger.
“I don’t know.” He frowns, apparently confused by my outburst as well as my interest in pursuing the topic. “I probably said something to the effect. Why?”
“Because she was on the verge of calling off the entire wedding five minutes ago, all because of what you said to her!” I shout, probably louder than necessary given our close quarters. Not to mention, the high ceilings are enabling a delightful echo effect. “What the hell were you thinking?”
His face continues to contort as he moves through his frustration. “I don’t know.” His hands drop to his sides, giving up on whatever work he was trying to accomplish on his phone before I ambushed him. “I heard someone say something about how romantic it was to only have kissed on person your entire life and I couldn’t help but laugh. I thought they were kidding.” Even now, he seems to find it hard to consider the concept a serious possibility. ‘Come on, babe. You can’t seriously be upset about this?”
“You really don’t see where laughing at the biggest life choice she will likely ever make, within hours of her making it, might not cause a problem?” I hiss in an attempt to bring my emotions down a notch. “Are you really so cynical that you don’t see the beauty in two souls finding each other in time to share every intimate milestone two lovers will ever share?”
“Can I see the beauty in that?” He looks about as exasperated as I feel. “No! Set aside the fact it’s a naïve and idealistic fairy tale to begin with, I also think it’s totally depressing to think of anyone only kissing one person their entire lives! Think about it for a minute. Can you imagine if you hadn’t been with any other person since your first kiss? All the experiences and growth you would have missed out on?”
The sting of tears burns my eyes. “I understand what you’re saying. Logically. But love isn’t logical. Love is messy and crazy and Goddamnit, it should be a fairy tale.”
“Babe,” he sighs, reaching his hand out to stroke my arm, but I brush it away before he can touch me. “I think maybe the stress of the last few days is starting to catch up to you.”
“It’s not the stress,” I insist, wiping at my cheeks with the back of my hand. “It’s what you said to Brenna. And even if you do believe what you’re saying, it doesn’t change the fact you said it to the bride right before her wedding. A wedding which I’m planning, under duress, I might add, and which the entire town of Lacey is looking forward to attending.” I take a step in closer and lower my voice. “Brenna and Robbie have known each other since before they were born because their mamas have been best friends since high school. The first day of kindergarten, when Brenna was so scared she cried, it was Robbie who hugged her tight and sat with her all day until she was ready to go play with everyone else. Second grade, when Robbie was struggling with his reading, Brenna found every children’s book about fishing she could find at the library and brought them home to him where she read with him, sounding out every letter, until he could do it for himself. By the time they started middle school everyone knew if you were looking for one, you might as well try and look for the other, because they were glued at the hip. Always together.” I swallow, fighting a lump that continues to build up in my throat despite my every intention to deny it. “They have been each other’s best friend their entire lives. And as they got older, they got to fall in love with the one person who already stood beside them through thick and thin. Can you even imagine the sort of trust they have between them? The depths of their acceptance for one another, having truly seen into every dark crevice of their hearts? Who cares if they’ll never share a meaningless kiss with someone else? Or if they’ll never go on a dozen bad dates just to learn how to appreciate the good ones. They’ll also never fall blindly for someone who betrays them. They’ll never feel the pain of an unrequited love or realize that the passion they once felt wasn’t enough to sustain a relationship after it fizzled.” I press my lips together so tightly they hurt, but at least it keeps the painful sob threatening to escape, lodged securely in my throat, where it continues to choke me, much like these feelings are wringing my heart.
Chase stares at me, eyes wide, mouth in a strange, disbelieving gape, until it straightens out, a thin line of concern. “Where is all this coming from?” He folds his left arm over his chest, catching his right elbow in his palm while the right hand moves up to rub his chin the way he always does when he’s nervous. “I feel like I’m missing something. You’re taking all of this very personally, and I get that you’re trying to make this wedding happen on a moment’s notice, and yeah, I’m sorry I said something that rocked the boat a bit, but I’m starting to think this has nothing to do with Brenna and Robbie.”
“Of course, it’s about Brenna and Robbie.” I don’t even mean to lie, it just flies out of my mouth because denial has been a way of life for the last decade. “What else would it be about?”
“You tell me.” His brown eyes turn darker, a strange and unexpected sadness pooling in them and pouring out. “Do you have a Robbie of your own I don’t know about?”
“No.” I bite my lip, reminding myself that this much at least is true. “I didn’t get that lucky.” Then I turn on my heel and walk away, unable to bear the hurt in his eyes any longer.
I make a beeline for the nearest exit and don’t dare to breathe again until I’m safely out of the room. I’m not the only person out here moving through the hall, but thankfully, everyone seems too wrapped up in their own things to bother noticing my current state of meltdown. Humiliating, all of it.
I’m only half paying attention when I push open the first door leading into a restroom.
“Fancy meeting you in here,” Wade cracks from the urinal, “again.”
“Shit.” I close my eyes and internalize the self-berating rant of four-letter words that follows my initial outburst.
“Rough day?” he asks, his words accompanied by the lovely sound of his zipper being pulled back into place. I wait for him to flush before I answer.
“Running into some minor hiccups.” I push the hair from my face, trying to force the wayward strands to stay in place, but they refuse as usual. Some days I think my hair reflects my emotions, getting wilder and crazier the more worked up I get.
“Wannna tell your buddy Wade all about it?” He leans his butt against the sink and faces me.
“Wanna wash your hands and then I’ll consider it?” I ask, disgust curling my lip.
He laughs but washes his hands just the same. “I was gettin’ to it. Just didn’t want you thinking my basic hygiene practices were more important than your feelings,” he goes on.
“I appreciate that, but for future reference, please know that I always want your personal hygiene practices to be a priority.” I make my way to a sink of my own and turn the faucet. My hot face is screaming for a splash of cold water.
“Well, go on then,” Wade says as he’s drying his hands. “I’m clean and ready.”
I rinse my face one more time before I turn the water off and pull out a handful of paper towels to dry off. “Chase doesn’t believe that a first love can be your last love.”
Wade shrugs. “So?”
“So?” I can’t believe his reaction. “So, I do. Don’t you?”
The corners of his mouth turn down, not so much that he’s frowning, but enough to let on he’s fighting a smile. Then he shakes his head. “Nope.”
“How can you say that?” I’m getting riled up all over again, only this time, I get the distinct feeling he’s pushing my buttons on purpose. “You’ve been there to see Brenna and Robbie fall in love from the very beginning. You honestly don’t believe they’re going to have a happy ever after once they say I do tonight?”
Wade does a half-shrug and crosses one ankle over the other, resting so comfortably against the sink that part of me is expecting it to break away from the wall at any moment. “I mean, I don’t think anyone is guaranteed a happy ever after. But sure, I think Brenna and Robbie are the real deal. I just don’t think they’re the norm. If anything, they’re the one in a million exception.”
“Wade!”
He chuckles, dropping his head as if the floor suddenly holds some entertainment value. He leaves me hanging for a small eternity before he finally looks up at me again and answers, “What do you suppose is really pissing you off here, Mercy?”
“What do you mean?” I pull another paper towel from the dispenser. I don’t really need it, but nervous energy is making me find ways to keep my body busy.
“You know what I mean.” He slides both hands into his front pockets, reminding me he’s just as stubborn as I am and willing to stick it out for the duration.
“It’s not what you think,” I tell him, mirroring his lackadaisy stance at the sink, but adding a more defiant twist by also crossing my arms to match my legs.
“Yeah, it is,” he says, blatantly grinning back at me. “It’s exactly what I think.”
“No,” I repeat, “it’s not.”
“Alright, then,” he concedes, “go on, tell me how I’m wrong.”
“No,” I refuse, my chin rising defiantly as I do. I wish it didn’t. I’m sure Wade will interpret it as overcompensating. “I don’t need to explain myself to you. You’re the one who’s trying to make a point, not me.”
His nostrils flare and there’s a flash of amusement in his eyes. “Very true.” He taps his mouth with his index finger several times, pretending to look as though he’s deep in thought. “You know what? I think I will.”
“You will what?” Panic flutters in my chest. Wade is up to something.
“Prove my point.” He arches one brow as his lips curve into a wicked smirk. “Tell you why I’m right.” He pushes off from the sink and begins a slow, but deliberate march between the wall and the door, pacing in front of me as if he’s a lawyer in a courtroom, about to make his case.
“You’re being ridiculous,” I scoff.
“Excuse me,” he pauses mid-step, directing both hands toward the ground, “I do believe I have the floor.”
“Good God.” I roll my eyes into my skull and wish they’d get stuck there and spare me whatever show Wade is about to put on.
“I think,” he begins, “the real reason you’re so pissed off is because you once believed you had that first-love-is-forever love only to find out it was a sham. And I think you’re pissed because you got screwed on it, and here Brenna and Robbie did not. They got the real edition. Not some fake, cheap, knock off.”
“You know damn well it wasn’t fake!” I shout, anger surging through me like I haven’t felt in years.
“Do I?” His mock innocence is enough to push me over the edge.
“You were there! You know it was real.” I fly off the sink and rush at him, finger jabbing him in the chest as soon as I’m close enough to reach. “What I don’t get is why you let him trash it all! You’re his best friend! Why didn’t you stop him?” Tears are free-falling down my cheeks and this time I don’t bother to hide them or stop them. They’re long overdue anyway.
Wade’s hands clasp my shoulders and all signs of amusement have washed from his face as he stares down straight into my eyes. “Why didn’t you?” he asks, voice quiet and more serious than I’ve ever heard from him. “You knew him better than anyone. You should have seen right through what he was doing. You could have stopped him,” he pauses, mouth twitching as though he has more to say but can’t. “But you didn’t.” He releases me from his grip and gently wipes my cheek with his thumb. “And that’s why you’re pissed.”
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FRANK
“You’re a mess,” Cam mutters as she falls into step beside me. “I told you it was a bad idea hanging around her. But do you ever listen to me?”
“It’s not that easy.” I notice the crate of dishes she’s carrying and take it from her. “Besides, look who’s talking. You’re the one planning a damn wedding with her.”
She makes a face at me, same one she always makes when she finds me annoying. Usually means I’m right about something. “That’s different,” she huffs.
“How is it different?”
“Let me count the ways.” And her hand flies up within inches of my face where her perfectly manicured fingers begin said countdown. “First of all, unlike you, I never spent a day pining after her. Once she was gone, she was out of sight, out of mind. Second, as my social calendar can attest, I’ve clearly moved on. Can you even remember the last date you went on?” She doesn’t give me time to answer, which is just as well, because the answer is no. I can’t. “Which brings us to number three. I’m doing it for closure. You, you’re just doing it to torture yourself.”
I mean, that wasn’t a conscious decision, but I suppose it’s playing out about that way. “Is it working? The closure thing?” I ask.
“It is,” she says stiffly. “I’m starting to wonder what I ever even saw in her.”
“Liar.” I bump her hip with mine, causing her to break out of her rigid walk.
“Fine,” she admits, a guilty curve in on her usually frigid mouth, “Mercy is still Mercy at her core. But you know what?” She turns sideways to look at me. “I don’t think I’m hurt about it anymore.”
“So mature of you,” I tease, “given she never knew she was doing anything to hurt you in the first place.”
Cam rolls her eyes at me. “You know as well as anyone, that sort of logic never applies where matters of the heart are concerned.”
“I think maybe logic just doesn’t apply where matters of Camden are concerned,” I say, grateful to have dodged the initial topic of conversation: me. “I mean, look at us. There isn’t one logical reason to be pieced together that could explain our friendship.”
“I’m glad we’ve come full circle,” she says just as we reach the door leading into the big room where the reception will be held.
“What do you mean?” I’ve gotten pretty good at keeping up with Camden’s twisty little brain, but every now and again, I still miss a turn.
“Mercy,” she says, “the illogical piece that ties us together. Which then brings us back to you. You look like crap. Stop talking to her. At least until after this wedding, or else you’re gonna ruin it for everyone else with your sour-looking face and your puppy-dog eyes and that slumped over, achy-breaky-heart walk you’re doing.” She sighs. “And if you can’t do that, go tell her the truth. It’s the only way either one of you is ever going to be able to move on.”