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At this moment I envy them their simple certainties. I wish I had some.
“Aren’t you guys scared of screwing up?” I prod. “Of not being good parents? You just assume you’re going to be good at it?”
“Gosh,” Logan says. “You’re the worst best man ever. Shouldn’t you be giving calming speeches right now? Why are you trying to put doubts into my head?”
“You look calmer than a sarcophagus and clearly have no doubts.”
“Because I am sure. I love Winter; I want her to be my life partner. I’ve longed to start a family of my own ever since—” His voice falters, and I don’t need him to speak to know he’s talking about losing his parents. They both died in a car accident two years after we graduated. Logan was sort of adopted by my mom ever since. He’s been with us for every Christmas and Thanksgiving. And my mom is crushed they couldn’t be here for the wedding, but my parents booked a cruise for this week a year in advance and would’ve lost all the money if they didn’t go.
Adopted brother or not, I understand Logan’s desire to build a home.
“I know, man,” I say.
My best friend nods, shaking the sadness away. “And of course we’re going to screw up, but we’ll fix it, together.”
I pretend to gag to lighten the mood. “You’ll give me diabetes.” I turn to Tucker to share a manly stare of groom-deprecating disgust, but my other friend has gone back to staring straight ahead and fidgeting.
“You, on the other hand”—I point a finger at him—“look more nervous than a bull in a china shop. What’s up?”
Tucker looks at us. “Guys, I have to tell you something.”
That doesn’t sound promising.
“Hey, Tuck, relax,” Logan says with an easy grin. “It’s not like you’re getting married in a few hours.”
I’m less inclined to jokes, and prompt him, “Come on, man, spit it out.”
“Okay.” Tucker takes a deep breath. “I’ve made a decision… The trip to Thailand next month will be my last. Sorry, guys.”
And there goes another bomb. This wedding is tearing my life apart.
Slack-jawed, I ask, “But why?”
Tucker obsessively dries his palms on his knees. “As Logan said, it’s time for a more stabilized lifestyle. No more traveling around the five continents, that’s all.”
“What will you do? Are you going to be a Yosemite guide full time?” I ask.
“Actually…” The palm-drying pace increases. “I’m thinking of moving to LA.”
And the shoe drops. “Wait, this wouldn’t have anything to do with Feisty Curls, huh?”
“Who’s Feisty Curls?” Logan asks.
“That actor’s assistant,” I explain. “Tall, curly hair, light-brown skin, green eyes.” Then I point an accusing finger at Tucker. “I saw them eating each other’s faces the other night.”
Despite being a grown man, Tucker blushes. “I have nothing to hide,” he says. “Penny and I are in love and, yes, I am going to move to LA to be closer to her.”
“But what will you do for a living down there?” I ask.
Tucker takes a deep breath. “I want to open a wedding planning agency.”
“You’re joking,” I say, just as Logan comments, “I’m so happy for you, man.”
“Thanks,” Tucker says to Logan, then slights me with a disdainful raise of his chin. Like a shunned milady in a regency B-movie would.
So, I backpedal a little. “What I meant is that I thought you hated planning this wedding. And you love it up here, man. You live at Yosemite when we’re not somewhere on a job. And how are you going to make a wedding planning agency work in LA? The competition ought to be crushing. And all for a woman you just met?”
“Hey,” Logan protests. “I hadn’t known Winter much longer when I realized she was the one for me.”
