The Best Man. Kristan Higgins
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narrowing her pretty eyes. “Anyone male who used to be engaged to you whose name starts with, oh, I don’t know...J?”
Faith sighed. “I emailed him, okay? Are you proud? We’re getting together next week.”
Colleen sighed. “Do you still talk to his parents?”
Faith nodded. “Yep. We had lunch down in Pacific Grove last month.”
“You’re a saint.”
“That’s true. But if someone calls me ‘poor thing’ one more time, I may go postal and kill everyone around me. Except children and dogs. And old people. And you. And Connor. Fine, I won’t kill anyone. But it’s driving me crazy.”
“I know!” Colleen said happily. “I’m suddenly really popular, too. Even more popular, I should say. People come in and plunk themselves down and say, ‘Coll, is she...’ tragic pause ‘...okay?’ And I say, ‘Sure! Why? Oh, you mean because Dr. Perfect dumped her at the altar? Ancient history, friend! She barely remembers.’”
“Thank you!” Faith said. “I’ve been getting these looks every time I go out. Did you see how Hugo came out to talk to me? First time ever.” She took a slug of her martini. “I’ve been coming here all my life, and the owner only just spoke to me today.”
“Don’t worry, hon,” Colleen said. “The gossips will find something else to talk about. Someone’s wife will cheat or someone will embezzle from the library board and they’ll all think about something other than you and Jeremy.”
“We can only hope,” Faith said.
Greg brought them their drinks and some cute little egg rolls, smiling at Colleen and ignoring Faith, who swiped another bread plate from an empty table.
“Hey, speaking of the library,” Faith said, “Julianne Kammer, remember her? Skinny, brown hair, very nice, threw up in seventh grade during the math test?”
“Yes, I remember. I’m not the one who’s been living on the left coast, honey.”
“Right,” Faith said. “Well, she asked me to do a job while I’m here in town. The little courtyard behind the children’s wing. I’m gonna have a little maze, see. Kids love that stuff. And I said I’d do it for free. Because I’m so nice.”
“And a little drunk, am I right? How is it that a Holland can’t hold her liquor?”
“I’m a throwback to my Puritan ancestors.” Hmm. Yes. She might be slurring a little.
“So is the time right for you to come back permanently? Frisco was never supposed to be your forever home.”
“San Francisco.”
“Right, right, please forgive me. Hold that thought, I have to hit the ladies’ room.” Colleen got up, leaving Faith alone.
Faith took another sip of her martini, despite her increasingly numb tongue, and glanced around. Hugo’s had been a good choice; it was quieter here, designed more for the tourist industry than a year-round, townie kind of place. The view of the lake was gorgeous, the tablecloths were crisp and white, sprigs of orchids in little vases. A group was just being seated; they’d been at Blue Heron today. Faith had filled in at the gift shop and recognized the pink teddy bear sweatshirt on one woman. Otherwise, Hugo’s held no one she recognized, other than Jessica Dunn, who was a big meanie.
Faith and Jeremy used to come here. They had a special table, right over there by the window, where they’d talk and hold hands and occasionally kiss. Sometimes Levi would come, too, to see Jessica Dunn (known as Jessica Does back in high school). It was always a little awkward when the four (or three) of them hung out. Jessica had never liked Faith...and neither had Levi, for that matter.
While Faith had wholeheartedly believed that every girl on earth should have a boyfriend exactly like Jeremy Lyon, an odd charge filled the air when Levi was around, and it only grew when Jessica joined them. Jeremy was much more attractive (Faith always thought of him as an exotic prince, with his swarthy skin and dark, dark eyes), but Levi had something Jeremy didn’t. Heterosexuality, she would learn.
But back in high school, Levi just made her nervous. He’d look at Jessica with those sleepy green eyes, his straight, dark blond hair always slightly messy, and you just knew those two were doing it—unlike herself and Jeremy, who were much more, uh, virtuous.
Once, Faith had caught Levi and Jessica making out in Hugo’s coatroom, and it had stopped her in her tracks, the lazy hunger in that kiss, slow and deep and unhurried. Levi had looked like a man years before the rest of the boys—thickly muscled arms and big hands that were the speculation of every female at Manningsport High. Then those hands had slid down Jess’s back, pulling her hips close against his own in an unmistakably sexual move, his mouth never leaving Jessica’s as he leaned into her.
Holy hormones.
Faith had whirled around and hightailed back to the table and her boyfriend, her perfect, loving, protective Jeremy. Her face had been hot, her hands shaking. Crikey, she’d hoped they hadn’t seen her. That little display had been so...crass. Yes. Crass.
Back then, she’d thought the reason Jeremy never kissed her like that was because they truly loved each other. It was something more pure and special than simple lust, that...that rutting that Levi and Jessica surely did.
Right.
“I hate that bathroom,” Colleen said, pulling Faith out of the bog of memories. “It’s freezing, first of all, and those automatic toilets are dangerous, like they could suck down an entire child.” She sat back down. “Hey, did you notice I’m wearing a push-up bra, Holland? For you. Connor always says women get more dressed up for each other than for men.”
“It’s true. I’m wearing a Microfiber Slim-Nation undergarment for you.”
“Really? Just for me? No wonder you’re my best friend.”
“You’re welcome. But you always wear a push-up bra.”
“You have a point. But I’m wearing glittery eye shadow, see?” Colleen batted her long, black, completely natural and totally unfair lashes for Faith to admire.
Suddenly, the back of Faith’s neck prickled. She felt it first, that reverberation in her stomach, then heard it.
Jeremy’s voice.
Oh, God, he had the best voice, low and warm and always with a laugh behind it, as if he found everyone and everything utterly wonderful.
“The time has come,” Colleen confirmed.
“No! No, no, no. I’m, I’m not ready. I hate this sweater.” Faith swallowed. “Coll, what do I do? What do I do?”
“Um...go say hi?”
“I can’t! I have to lose fifteen pounds! Plus, I’m not ready. I have to...prepare.”
Colleen laughed. “Just bite the bullet! You look great.”
“No. Really. Not yet.” She risked a glance at him—broad shoulders, that beautiful black hair, and he was laughing now, oh, crap! All he had to do was turn forty-five degrees, and he’d see her.
“Bathroom,” she said, and bolted.
She made it. No one else was in here, praise the Lord. Her heart was doing a fair impression of Secretariat at the Belmont, and there was a good possibility she was about to puke.
Faith caught a glimpse of her face in the mirror. She definitely wasn’t ready. First of all, the fifteen pounds. And her hair was dopey today. Also, she’d maybe put on some glittery eye shadow and something sexier than a black wrap sweater that looked like something a Mennonite would wear to a funeral. Honestly, what had she been thinking when she bought it? It wasn’t even low-cut.
No. She had to prepare, because if she was going to see He Who Left Her at the Altar, she was going to look amazing and have some remarks planned.