Page 184 of Levi

“I am never going to be able to measure a window again without thinking of this,” he says.

“That was the general idea.”

He gets up on shaky legs, comes back with a washcloth, and cleans us both up, unhurried, thorough, same as ever. Then he picks up the pen and legal pad to cross something off the list.

“What’d you just cross off?”

“Break in the new house properly.”

“What? You’re lying. That was never on the list.”

“Yes, it was.”

He tilts the pad over for me to see it for myself.

He’d put it on the list.

Chapter 70: Dante

Two weeks out from Benji’s wedding, he shows up at my door crying before daylight. Both hands over his mouth. Eyeliner already smearing.

I get him inside and onto the couch, and put the cafetera on, because whatever this is, it’s going to need coffee.

“I’ve made a mistake,” he says into his hands. “A catastrophic one. The worst decision of my entire life.”

Two weeks before a man’s wedding, there’s usually one thing that means. I sit down across from him and take both his hands in mine.

“Benji. You’re marrying the best man you’ve ever met. Whatever you’re freaking out about, it isn’t Mickey.”

He drops my hands and looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. Then he laughs. “Mickey? God, Dante, no. Not Mickey.” He wipes his face with the back of his hand. “I would marry Mickey in the bar right now. I’d have married him in the hospital if someone had handed me a pen. There has never been one second, not one, where marrying Mickey was the question.” He breaks again. “That’s exactly the problem.”

“You need to walk me through what’s wrong. Tell me.”

“A wedding is supposed to be about marrying the person you love.” He grabs a cushion and holds it to his chest. “That’s everything. And I have taken the best thing to ever happen to me in my life and turned it into a circus.”

“It’s a beautiful circus, Benji. The most gorgeous circus ever. I’ve seen the binder. Many, many times. It will be perfect.”

“You know I love the planning.” He sits up a little, wiping under one eye with a knuckle. “The planning is my favorite part of anything. It’s the vacation before the vacation, Dante, it’s half of why a vacation is even worth taking. Weddings are the same.”

Benji sighs loudly.

“You know everything I’ve gone through for this wedding. Three mood boards for one florist. A hand signal worked out with the harpist to cut Tex off at the knees if he runs long. The sunset timed to the minute across three separate weather apps. I was having the time of my life dreaming up the most fabulous wedding this coast has ever seen.” His hand drops. “And then I woke up at four this morning and did the thing I do for four hundred other people. I finally took a good look at my own wedding day.

“And I saw myself standing on Tex’s deck at sunset, and I wasn’t looking at Mickey. No, instead of keeping my eyes on the most handsome man I could ever imagine marrying, I was watching the sky for rain. And worrying whether the cake was sweating in the heat and whether the photographer was standing in the best spot.”

“I’ll help you with all that,” I say. “Let me handle it.”

“I know, but I’d be working.” The cushion goes over his face. “On the one day I actually get to stop, I’d be running the event. At my own wedding. I’d be the help at my own wedding. And you know how much I hate that fucking word.”

“Then don’t be the help, Benji.”

“How do I do that?” He comes up for air. “I don’t want a wedding, Dante. What I want is a party. A celebration of the best thing in my life.”

“Why are you saying it like you’re confessing to a crime? Is wanting a party instead of a fancy wedding a bad thing?”

“It is if you’re a wedding planner. I don’t want to plan the wedding anymore.”

“Okay,” I tell him. “Let’s talk about this calmly.” I put a café con leche in his hands. He wraps both hands around it and doesn’t drink it, just holds on. “Tell me what you really want and I’ll help you make it happen.”