ChapterSix
Oliver
“I want you to be in my wedding.”
The sentence is unusual enough to jar me from the list of acquisitions I’ve been feigning interest in. After Carson announced Guy Chapman’s presence, I made him wait outside my office for ten minutes, and then I ignored him when he walked in because it pleases me to annoy him.
I lift my attention from the computer. “Is that a question or a demand?”
Guy sits in the black leather guest chair across from me, not intimidated in the slightest. One corner of his mouth tips up. “It’s more of a proposal. Does anyone ever demand anything from you?”
Not really. It would make things a lot more interesting if they did. Well, one person has—Piper, when she said she wanted me.Of course, she didn’t mean it. Slip of the tongue. But then she was listening to my conversation with Carson and… I shake the memory away.
This conversation is noteworthy if a bit strange. A wedding? Me?
Instead of giving an answer, I stall for time to consider his proposition. “When are the nuptials taking place?”
I need to proceed cautiously. People don’t ask me for these types of favors. People don’t want to spend time with me—they want my money. This is different, which in and of itself is interesting, at least. But I can’t help but wonder if there’s an ulterior motive. Although I’ve known Guy for years. He’s not the type to prevaricate, and he has his own money.
“We’re thinking this fall, when the trees start to change, somewhere upstate. So what do you say—will you be a groomsman?”
Confusion clouds my thoughts. “Why me?”
“Because we’re friends.”
We are? I don’t voice the question out loud. I don’t want to expose my own ignorance. Recent experiences have led me to believe I don't understand the meaning of the word.
Friendship. The technical definition is a state of mutual trust, respect, and affection. All of which I don’t feel for anyone, thus negating the whole mutual aspect of the word.
I’ve known Guy since high school, and we’ve done business together, but that’s it. I might consider Archer and Mason something akin to friends, but we’re only acquainted because we suffered similar childhoods. I can call on them for favors without question, and they can do the same with me. But we don’t spend time together, except for this past Easter, and I doubt that will be repeated. We share a pact of sorts. Nothing more, nothing less.
Guy speaks in the face of my continued silence. “As much it pains me to admit it, you are one of the reasons Scarlett and I are together.”
I tap the back of my pen on the edge of the desk. “I discouraged the connection.”
Guy grins. “Which basically drove me right into her arms.” His grin dips slightly, his eyes steady on mine. “You’re the only one, other than me or Scarlett, that could walk Emma down the aisle.”
I frown. “You’re using your little sister to get me to agree?”
“Is it working?”
I cross my arms.
“Come on, Oliver. She’s picky about people in general, but she loves you. Ironic, since the rest of the world thinks you’re an ass.”
This almost eliminates my frown—not because Guy called me an ass, although that’s part of it, but because Emma does like me. Every time I see her, she wants to play with me—as much as she’s capable of play. And she texts me almost daily. Though her nerve disorder leaves her unable to speak, and though she struggles to walk or even reach for things, Emma sure knows how to use a cell phone and iPad. We’ve become pen pals of a sort, communicating through emojis.
I don’t make decisions based on emotion. There’s no benefit to being Guy’s groomsman. It also feels like giving in. Surrendering is weakness. Yet I’m also oddly pleased he would ask. I don’t trust that part of me. That same part led to me ending up with my head in Piper’s lap.
Guy stands. “I know you aren’t going to understand this, but I do consider you a friend. I hope you feel the same way. People need each other for more than business deals and money and what they can get out of it. Human connection is important.”
I stare at him.
He stands. “Even you need someone, Oliver.”
“I’ve survived this long without all that nonsense.”
“Have you? Is it enough? Does spending all your time running businesses and living in your office make you happy?” He waves a hand. “Aren’t you bored?”