“She isn’t the love of your life,” Liam growls. “She’s nobody.”
“Fuck you.” Freddie slams his fist down on the table.
Our glasses jump, but we’re all quick enough to steady them. Freddie’s outburst has attracted some curious customers who peer over to see the unfolding argument. Liam sits upright again, and I shuffle back to where I was originally seated, and that weird tension building between us changes into something more sombre.
“What the hell has happened?” Freddie asks. “Why are you being like this?”
“Look,” I say, placing my hands flat on the tabletop. “We love you—”
“And I love you too, but you’re being pricks right now.”
I said it. I spoke the words, I told Freddie the truth, but of course in his head it’s been assigned a category—the love between friends—and he loves us too, but it’s not romantic love. It’s not what we want, and we’re at a point now, a horrible point where Freddie’s love isn’t enough. We want more of it. We wantallof it.
“We can’t be your best men,” Liam says. “And . . . and I doubt we’ll be at your wedding.”
My heart skips a beat. We’d not discussed those extremes. Backing out as best men, yes, but boycotting the wedding?
“You doubt you’ll be at my wedding?” Freddie whispers.
Liam doesn’t look away from him. “That’s what I said.”
He picks up his beer and leaves the booth to stand beside me. Freddie eyes the space he’s vacated, the exit that’s suddenly available to him, and he doesn’t wait. He slides around the horseshoe booth, bumping into the table as he goes, and he keeps his gaze low, not letting us see his eyes. I fear they’re swimming with confused tears.
Fuck, Iknowthey are.
Mine are stinging in response to this situation, and our awful handling of it. We’ve blindsided him.
“Freddie,” I whisper.
But I don’t know what I’m going to follow it up with, and he doesn’t stop to find out. He yanks open the door of the pub with enough force I worry for his shoulder, then he’s gone.
“Fuck,” I say, dropping my head into my hands. I groan against my palms. Liam doesn’t say anything.
“How are you so calm?” I ask.
“It had to be done,” Liam murmurs. “I can’t live like this anymore.”
I drop my hands into my lap. “He might not talk to us again.”
“I know.” Liam stiffens his jaw. “I hope he doesn’t.”
And I know he’s lying. I know his calm persona hides an avalanche of emotion beneath. But there’s nothing left to say, so we finish our drinks in silence then leave the pub, not knowing when or if we’ll next speak to Freddie.
5
Freddie
Four weeks have passed since Ryker and Liam declined not only being my best men but attending my future wedding too. It’s not just hurt feelings, it’s a physical sickness that’s prevented me from sleeping, distracted me throughout the day, and left me vomiting in the toilet from a constantly squirming gut. The doctor diagnosed me with stress and offered to write me a sick note for work, but I dared not take a day off in case that swung Stephen into firing me. One look at the camera footage, and I’ll be gone like Andy, but there’s no other way to complete the processes in time to finish each batch of components.
I’m doing the work of two men, the operator and the checker, and I have been for months. Right now, I’m too valuable to let go, but as soon as demand quietens, I’ll be under his scrutiny.
When I told Keegan that Ryker and Liam had backed out of any part in our wedding, she huffed, crossed her arms, and declared she knew they’d hated her from the beginning.
There are other choices to be my best man, other friends, and Keegan keeps mentioning her brother Ben, but I’ve met him a handful of times, and there’s no connection between us. Ryker, Liam, and I are family, which is why I don’t understand why they’ve hurt me like this.
It’s not just them blacklisting my wedding, it’s the lack of contact since. In the weeks since that night where I stormed out of the pub, Ryker and I have exchanged a handful of messages, and Liam hasn’t read any of our interactions let alone responded.
I miss them. It’s a pain that grows steadily each day, as does my anger and confusion.
