I had to haul myself back. To remember who I was marrying.
“Nothing. Last minute jitters, I guess.” I smiled and let her go, tucking my itchy hands into my pockets.
Ally smiled, relaxing finally. “Understandable. It’s not every day that Scorer Seth gets put on
lockdown.”
See, she was glad I wasn’t going there too. She’d even mentioned my old stupid high school nickname. Scorer Seth, the guy who never missed when he set his mind on a woman. Now I was engaged, and of course, Ally wouldn’t want me going there. But she never had.
Our entire friendship, we’d kept each other firmly in the friend zone. It was safer. Didn’t make sense to risk screwing up a good thing, not when we had so few others we could count on.
We were it for each other. And we always would be.
“Scorer Seth never learned.” Giving in to the urge to touch one more time, I reached up to adjust her flower crown, and she immediately followed my hand to adjust it herself. That was my girl, always double-checking my work.
I grinned and moved back to the mirror to work some more on my tie. My eternal downfall. Knowing that, she let out a sigh and walked over to fix it for me, accomplishing the task in two seconds flat. When she started to move back, I grasped her wrist and her gaze flew up to mine.
“Promise me this won’t change,” I said urgently.
“What?” She let out a nervous little laugh, the kind I rarely heard from her. No matter what, Ally had her shit together. “You want me to promise to always fix your ties? Okay, I can do that—”
“No. I want you to promise we’ll still be this way together. That just because I have a wife now, we’ll still be like…this.” I gestured between us with my free hand. “That you won’t pull away.”
She laughed again, averting her gaze. Telling me without words she’d intended to do exactly that.
“We’ll always be friends. But your wife will be your best friend now. As she should be. If you’re worrying about me, don’t. I’m good.” She tried to shake off my hold, but when that didn’t happen, she shook back her hair instead. “I’ve got it all handled.”
“What if I don’t? I don’t want this to change. Fuck, Al, you’re my best friend.”
Gently, she pulled away. “We’ll always be friends,” she repeated. “I better get to my seat. It’s almost time. Break a leg, Hamilton.” She flashed a weak smile. “Or whatever you say in times like this.” She leaned up on tiptoe and kissed my cheek. “I’m so happy for you.”
She was gone before I could reply.
I reached up to cup my cheek. My skin was still tingling from her lips.
She hadn’t promised me. The only promises I could count on now were my own. The ones I’d already made to my unborn child, and soon, to my wife.
I would do what was right.
1
Ally
I hopped back a good three feet, but it was way too late. “Aww, come on.”
I stared down at the puddle of coffee dripping from the worn Formica tabletop to the red vinyl booth. The cracked pot in my hand held a jagged edge that could be a prop in a Quentin Tarantino movie. Right down to the coffee-stained orange lip.
If I had to sacrifice my last pair of white Converse sneakers to the coffee gods, at least it should’ve been goddamn full octane coffee, not decaf.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Diggs. Don’t move, okay?”
Mrs. Diggs, one of the diner’s regulars, shuffled to the end of her booth and cupped her mug in her manicured hands. She picked up her feet—clad in bright orange and white sneakers—as the coffee raced toward the wall of windows.
I winced. Dammit, the baseboards needed a scrub again. Maybe I could convince Mitch to let me stay late or come in early one day. I’d been picking up as many shifts as he’d allow me to, but at least if I did this it wouldn’t require talking to people.
I was pretty much talked out.
“Are you all right, dear?”