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I got off the stool and sat down next to him. "It's just because she's scared, you know."
Eric shrugged. "Scared right into another guy's bed, huh? Or maybe it's just because she's onto something." He stared out the window, toward some unknown scene playing out in his head. "She said monogamy wasn't either of our thing, and we knew that from the beginning. She's never wanted a long-term relationship, and neither have I. She said I might not feel it now, but eventually we both would want out. We'd feel trapped."
"And you think she's right? What about the whole 'I love you' thing?"
He shrugged again and polished off his beer before setting the pint glass on the bar behind him. "I was just kidding myself. This is the longest relationship I've ever had, and it's been, what, two months? Jane doesn't exactly make it a secret that she doesn't like commitment. Plus the long-distance thing..." he trailed off as he twisted his hands together. "I just got caught up. It's for the best that we break it off now."
I watched my friend for a minute while he sat. I suspected he was wrong––that they were both throwing away something special––but I couldn't urge him to do more than he'd done. If Jane wasn't open to big gestures, they wouldn't work.
"Sometimes it's just timing," I said lamely, and Eric nodded, although the look on his face told me he didn't like that reality.
"Sometimes," he said.
~
Slowly, people began to filter into the bar. With the help of Kieran, I'd chosen a relatively small guest list that was comprised mostly of some of Brandon's colleagues, friends from law school, and of course, the respective members of our families. Dad wasn't able to leave his rehab program, but Bubbe had shown up carrying three large casserole dishes full of her brisket, Brandon's favorite of her specialties.
I watched with amusement as my tiny grandmother elbowed her way into the kitchen and gave the cook instructions on the proper way to keep the brisket warm without drying it out. At one point the cook, a young man in his twenties, looked to me with a distinct "HELP ME" expression, but all I could do was raise my shoulders and laugh. Bubbe was a force of nature, and there was no stopping her when it came to food.
Before I knew it, it was nine o'clock, and I was stepping up to the bar's small stage to address the crowd after Lucas told me that Brandon was en route to the bar with his campaign and security staff. Kieran had managed to coerce Cory into cooperating, and I was grateful, since I doubt he would have helped me alone. Apparently Brandon thought he was on his way to a meet-and-greet with a local teachers union, which at least guaranteed he wouldn't be overdressed.
I gripped the microphone and tapped the top, wiping my other palm on my skirt as the crowd quieted and faced me.
"Um, hi everyone," I said, searching out the familiar faces I knew: Bubbe, Kieran, Eric, Susan, and even Ray. Their kind smiles buoyed me against the other, more skeptical faces who only knew me from newspaper headlines as the person who had broken up Brandon's marriage.
But they were here, and that was all that mattered.
"So, security tells me that the guest of honor is due to arrive in a few minutes. If I could ask everyone to find places that face the bar entrance. Once that's done, please wait for Lucas, our security advisor over there"—I gestured to Lucas's large form at the door, and the big man gave a brief wave––"to give the signal, and then we can shout surprise. Thank you so much for being here."
And with that, I stepped off the stage and let the musicians take their places while I filed to the back of the crowd next to Eric and Bubbe.
"Shouldn't you be up front?" Eric wondered as I hopped onto a stool next to him. He nodded to where Kieran stood in front of the crowd, in a prime spot in front of the door. She would be the first person Brandon saw when he arrived.
I just shook my head. "No. This isn't about me. He'll see me later."
"Head's up!" Lucas's loud voice boomed through the crowd, and everyone went silent.
I could hear Brandon's deep voice filtering through the door before I saw him. It pushed open, and his blond head was turned outside toward his campaign manager, who was looking beyond toward the crowd.
"Fifteen minutes," Brandon was saying. "I'm tired, and Skylar's probably wait––"
"SURPRISE!!!"
The shouts of the crowd yanked Brandon around with utter and complete shock. His tanned face was stretched in astonishment as he looked around, bright eyes gleaming with recognition as they touched on the faces of each and every person in the room. Slowly one dimple, then another made their appearances, until a wide grin that raised the electricity wattage of the building lit up the entire room.
"Holy shit," he finally pronounced to my utter relief, and around him, the crowd laughed.
"Happy birthday, asshole!" yelled a man on the side of the room, one of Brandon and Kieran's law school cohorts whom I had only met about thirty minutes before.
And with that, the crowd consumed him, drawn to his orbit like the star he was.
"Hey, Springsteen!" Brandon crowed when the band started up with "Dancing in the Dark," a guaranteed crowd-pleaser. His massive grin when he registered the tune was enough to make the whole thing worth the trouble.
After Brandon swept her up in a bear hug, Kieran tried to wave me over to them, but I just shook my head and took a drink of my whiskey soda.
"Don't you want to go over there?" Eric said. "You put together this whole shindig. He should know."
I shrugged, transfixed with the happiness in front of me. Brandon couldn't stop smiling as he accepted hugs from person after person. As he turned away from one tight embrace, his gaze finally landed on where I sat across the room.
