Page 42 of Beautiful Small Things

“I know,” he replies. “I wanted to. I want them to have the best.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask sincerely.

“What, are we friends now?” he inquires, head cocked to the side.

“I guess not,” I admit tersely, feeling the melancholy sweep through me again. “See you at the rehearsal dinner,” I say lamely before turning back and nearly running to my car.

Chapter seventeen

The Rehearsal Dinner

Marcus - Age 27

I feel out of sorts when the rehearsal dinner rolls around a few weeks later. This entire wedding has happened so fast. Callan and I have done a good job of doing what is asked of us, which was minimal, and remaining scarce the rest of the time. It’s been a fucking exercise in self-control, keeping as much distance as possible from James. I’m drawn to her now. I thought I could shake it, but every time I see her, the desire gets stronger to act on my feelings. Feelings? Do I have feelings for her? Not possible. I’m about fun, not feelings. I need this wedding to be over so I can put some distance between us.

My parents are hosting the wedding rehearsal dinner at my house. Our backyard rivals the country club, and since Callan was like a second son to them while he was growing up, they are happy to do this for him and Colby.

I haven’t seen them much lately, as they travel a lot and do a lot of other boring rich-people stuff. That’s the life of a financier. It’s honestly a life I never see myself living. Endless charity benefits, simultaneously kissing ass and having your ass kissed, constantly watching the market, and acting like making rich people richer matters in any sense…it’s just not me. It’s never been me.

I greet people along my way to the bar, where I grab an Old Fashioned and take a healthy sip before looking for the rest of the bridal party. I don’t have to look for long as I spot everyone standing by the pool, talking and laughing.

I stop and take in the scene and can’t help but feel so damn happy for my best friend. Callan hasn’t had it easy in this life, and in Colby, he found someone who makes him believe he’s the most important person in the world. He’s been completely different since she came back into his life. It’s the kind of love and the kind of story that can make even a guy like me believe in happily ever after.

To the right of Colby is James, looking just as beautiful as ever. Her hair is down in loose waves down her back and she’s wearing a soft pink dress that hugs her chest and waist and then flows down to her ankles.

She has grown into such a stunning woman, and not just in her physical features. Her acerbic tongue gets me going in ways I never thought possible. I’m used to compliant women who are not challenging, intellectually. I always found it easier to be with women like that. But now that I’ve had a taste of a woman who speaks her mind and calls me out on my shit, I don’t think there’s any going back.

I walk over to the group and stand next to her, as Callan is telling the group about the honeymoon they have planned.

“Hello, BJ,” I whisper, leaning in slightly so only she can hear me.

“Hello, Dickwad,” she whispers back, a ghost of a smile crossing her lips.

“I was thinking we could call a truce for tonight,” I tell her. “You know, to focus on our duties of helping out the happy couple.”

She looks at me skeptically but then nods. “OK, I agree,” she says before sipping champagne. “So that means you aren’t allowed to hit on me this evening.”

“I think you’re confused,” I chuckle. “That means you have to stop hitting on me.”

“You’re delusional,” James says calmly. “How are you going to be an amazing doctor when you’re clearly mentally unstable?”

We’ve moved a little bit away from the group now, so I don’t try to hide the laugh that erupts from my chest. “I am mentally unstable if I’ve been entertaining the sexual advances of a child.”

“I’m not a child, Marcus,” she chastises. “Not anymore.”

“I know, BJ,” I tell her with a touch of seriousness. “It’s still weird to see you all grown up.”

“I’m sure it is, since you have no intention of ever growing up,” she bites.

“You know when you’re mean to me it makes my dick hard,” I smile, causing her to laugh, but I’m being honest.

“Have you decided what kind of doctor you’re going to be?” she asks. “I imagine gynecology. You know, since you’ve been an ‘amateur gynecologist’ for years,” she says, adding in the air quotes for effect and a goofy voice.

“A what?” I howl. “Is that voice supposed to me? That’s hilarious.”

“I can’t take credit for it, actually. Callan said it once, and I overheard,” she informs me with an exaggerated eye roll.

“Remind me to high-five him later,” I smile, causing her to scowl and gulp more champagne. “No, I’m not going to be a gynecologist,” I answer. “I’m going to be an oncologist. Pediatrics, actually.”